݁⋆⭒˚.⋆ Massive tw for themes of rape, cnc, nsfw, age gap, and general triggering topics.
not proofread.
For what felt like Andrew Codys entire life, nobody has been able to handle his feelings and lack of logical thinking. He was always “too much” or “too sensitive” and always, always, looked down upon. Until he met you.
Your first time meeting was at a Cody party. You were freshly 23 and attempting to escape the panic that was caused thanks to greening out. You stumbled into Pope’s room, to find him sitting on a neatly made bed, in the cleanest room you’d ever seen in this house. You quickly began to apologize before he softly sighed.
“Stay.” His demeanor was so intimidating but his face looked slightly worried. More worried than anyone else had been about you so far that night. “Why’re you crying? Somethin’ happen?”
You kinda nodded before explaining your stupid situation that you 100% got yourself into. The rest of that night was spent on the bathroom floor with Pope, who brought u water and crackers and told you stories about how he had a twin sister who’d always end up in this same spot. You’d softly laugh and ask even more about her and his childhood, showing more interest in him than anyone had in like 34 years. Were you scared at first? Yes. You’d heard stories of Pope Cody. The oldest, and “scariest” brother. But he sure wasn’t scary around you.
The next few weeks were spent with small little intimate moments, naps with Pope using you as a pillow, little dinner dates, flowers left in places for you, all nighters pulled watching little documentaries and movies. You loved it. He was so soft with you, so attentive, and so, so, so protective of you. Onetime you came to him crying about some stupid thing that happened like five years ago— shit that would normally be dismissed as “girl drama”. But instead Pope took you in his lap, softly rubbing your back and wiping your tears before mapping out the exact place in his mind where he’d bury the next asshole to make you cry.
But Andrew was growing needier by the day.
-
He had heard a few guys around talk about it before.. “No- dude im telling you- it’s amazing. She didn’t even remember!” he watched that man clink a glass with the man across from him as they laughed. He used to think the concept as a whole was disgusting. But he’d never felt as in-love as he had been lately.
As long as you didn’t remember.. right? It seemed like an easy solution. He could make it seem like things were going slow between you guys, and you wouldn’t be traumatized from… well. He fought with himself in his mind about it for weeks. Roofies. Was this a line he’d cross? Was this who he wanted to be? Usually the bad actions and crimes he’d commit came from someone else and with a reward. Fuck it.
-
Andrew invited you over to the Cody residence, J was gone for the night, everyone else was doing their own thing. It was perfect. He stood at the kitchen island mixing two cocktails, while you were standing across, watching in awe.
“Did you take a bartending class or something? Why are you just good at everything??” You playfully yipped, warm little giggles filling the room as you watched him work his magic.
He softly scoffed, before he stopped.. “Hey sweetheart.. I think Craig left some gin in his room. I jus’ wanna add a little bit, can you go find it?”
You nodded and hurried off to craigs room to go find it for him while he quickly spiked your drink. Guilt immediately washed over him before being buzzed with excitement. You were going to be all his.
-
It started with a weird little tingling in your feet, that you brushed off. But before you knew it your whole body felt like it was being sucked up by the couch. Sound got so fuzzy and the lights seemed to bright. You turned to pope and curled up in his lap, knowing he’d take care of you.
A small blackout was broken by your eyes opening half lidded and a crazy pressure in your stomach.. followed by.. Pope? Crying? Whimpering? Oh?
He was mumbling between thrusts, tears falling down his face. “Oh god.. ‘M so sorry sweetheart. mmhnn.. Im trying to be gentle..” He was cupping your face, his grasp on you just weak enough not to bruise. Your tiny little shorts were pulled down to your ankles and pope had positioned you tummy down, ass up. Gently but firmly thrusting in and out.
You could feel his entire length inside of you, his warm tip just hitting your pelvis. He throbbed and spasmed everytime he tried to stop and slow his thrusts, barely able to control himself.
His hands took up the majority of your hips. Pope shook in between thrusts, just on the edge of straight overstimulation. Atleast he used lube.. points for that. Less of a burn.
“Mmmmnnhhh… oh.. god im- shit. ‘M so close. Gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum baby.” He pulled out, and you felt him finish on the small of your back, letting out the softest whimpers.
Large hands engulfed your waist and flipped you on your belly. You felt him clean you up a little bit before he got on his knees and softly placed kisses on your inner thighs. Then you felt him. His tongue, his nose, all of him just softly taking you in, sure to be gentle since he knew you’d probably be sore.
Whimpers were broken with him just barely pulling away.. whispering against you.
“Taste so good baby. ‘M so sorry- I really am.” He mumbled into you, making you let out a small whimper. One small whimper turned into a bunch of small whimpers, and the feeling in your stomach became more and more intense. Every moan he let out against you hit you in all the right spots. His hands firmly gripped your legs and you just barely squirmed. You didn’t know if you were more mad that Pope had done this in genral or that you couldn’t be fully experiencing this.
Eventually your whole body started to tense up, and he knew you were getting close.
“That’s it. I got you baby.. jus’ want you to feel good.” He caressed your legs as you came, placing kisses all over you on every spot you could think of.
-
When you woke up, you were in new clothes, on his bed, and completely cleaned up. You softly got up, reasonably sore and tip toed to the living room, where Pope was. The last few hours were extremely fuzzy, but bits and pieces told you all you needed to know. For some reason.. you weren’t mad.
Andrew, however, was. He was mad at himself. Terrified of what he did, having an entire moral crisis on the couch, laying on his side, tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He sat up when he saw you walk in, and just broke down.
Tears were kissed away after you quickly straddled his lap, cupping his face in your hands. “Andy… it’s ok.”
“No. ’S not... I-I did something.” He muttered, unable to even look you in the eye.
“I know.” His heart dropped. This.. whatever you two once had.. was gone. He knew it for sure.
“Next time make sure I’m fully conscious.. wanna feel you for real.” You softly whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek. He’d never been more in love than he was in that moment.
a/n: hihihi sorry i don’t write smut a lot pls don’t murder me for any weird words or inaccuracies
content: pope and reader are in highschool | pope has a fat crush on reader | baz being his usual wacky self | bullying | angst with comfort | poor pope just wanted to impress you | happy ending
🟡 author’s note: this was inspired by that one unreleased ethel cain song that’s trending… i was going to make it completely angsty, but i had to give andrew a happy ending
—
“…what the fuck is that for?” baz barked out, amused by the half-finished poster that sat in the middle of pope’s bedroom.
pope instinctively moved to hide it from his pestering step-brother, but it was too late as baz stepped in, swiftly grabbing the poster board from his grasp.
“will you go to…” baz began to read out aloud, “oh, pope, don’t tell me you’re planning on asking that girl to the dance…” he cooed condescendingly.
pope stiffened, his jaw clenched tightly as baz teased him. “put it down,” he mumbled, biting down the sense of humiliation that always followed after baz’s words.
“alright, alright… no need to get yourself worked up,” he scoffed, carelessly setting it down.
pope let out a relieved huff the second baz left the room, moving to lock his bedroom door before carefully smoothing out the creases that his brother left. he looked down at the poster, his eyes glazing over the colorful letters.
he had been planning to ask you to the homecoming dance for the past few weeks. he even strung julia into it, asking for her guidance and girlish opinion when it came to preparing his homecoming proposal.
sure, he felt incredibly out of place; even borderline foolish for attempting to craft something like this.
but he wanted to do it for you.
he wanted to be someone charming, someone who could impress you, similar to the male leads of the romcoms you adored watching. that reason alone was why pope spent the rest of his night locked away in his room as he finished up the poster, obsessively making sure that every detail was executed just as he planned.
you two had met in science class. your teacher had assigned you as lab partners for the semester at the beginning of the school year. initially, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at not being paired with one of your friends, but pope had turned into a pleasant surprise. despite your peers warning you of pope’s unsettling demeanor, the two of you collaborated well, and eventually it gave way into an easy friendship. it was something that pope held protectively, especially when everyone seemed to prefer baz over him. besides you, there were only two other people in the school who would tolerate his company.
once the day to ask you to the dance finally arrived, he spent the whole class watching you with butterflies flooding his stomach. each time you’d flash him an easy smile or make eye contact with him, he’d feel the mix of nerves and anticipation worsen as the time ticked past.
the bell rung for the final time, dismissing students for the day. pope hurriedly rushed downstairs, his feet carrying him to his locker. “do you… would you want to go to the dance with me?” he muttered to himself, practicing the grand question as he opened his locker.
he reached for the poster and bouquet of crochet flowers he carefully prepared, before heading towards the lobby where he requested you to wait.
as he rounded the corner, he didn't see baz and his football friends waiting, grinning as they prepared to spring their trap. before pope could even take a step towards your direction, the group ambushed him, catching him completely off guard.
he felt his shirt become wet, drenched and slimy with a sharp, pungent smell.
“holy shit, i can’t believe you were actually planning to ask her,” baz scoffed, cracking up at the sight of pope holding the items.
the other guys followed suit, thinking his efforts were some kind of joke.
pope shifted slightly, his heart pounding out of his chest as he felt the halls close in on him.
he felt ridiculous and humiliated, the buzzing in his ears blocking out their continued remarks until something else hit the side of his face.
he looked down, realizing it was a discarded frog leg from the dissection earlier that day.
shit, how was he supposed to face you when he had animal guts splattered over him?
when the poster he had prepared now reeked of formalin?
would you laugh at him as well?
what if he accidentally embarrassed you by asking?
what if this entire time, you had been tolerating him out of sheer politeness?
“it’s bad enough she’s stuck with a nutjob like you. i heard mr. smith had to assign her as your partner because no one else wanted to volunteer,” one of them snickered.
pope couldn’t bear it anymore, quickly turning to rush away from the obnoxious bunch. his vision was too tunneled to realize that he had ran past you in the hall, your brows furrowed at the sight of his distress. he faintly heard you calling his name as he left the building, not realizing that you had picked up the discarded poster and flowers.
pope was thankful that the following day was saturday, at least then he’d be able to hide away from everyone, especially from baz.
he wanted to wring his brother’s neck for orchestrating something like that, but his embarrassment kept him cooped up in his room, not moving an inch even after craig and deran’s attempts to invite him to the skate park.
he only slipped out of the cody compound when he knew nobody would notice, his feet dragged as he walked to the cathedral, the only safe place that he had left. as he reached the entrance, his eyes spotted you seated on the steps.
he almost turned around and fled until he heard your voice, “andrew, wait!”
you were sweating slightly from waiting on the steps for hours, your hands holding onto the poster board and flowers.
“i knew you’d show up,” you sighed happily, flashing him a small smile.
he stiffened as you stopped right in front of him, awkwardly glancing around before his eyes uncomfortably settled on your face. he swallowed nervously, his mouth feeling incredibly dry as he watched you hold up the crochet bouquet.
“you… made these for me? to ask me to homecoming?” you asked.
he gave you a brief nod, his fingers drumming against the side of his thigh. “…it’s a gift. my sister told me that you’d like it,” he mumbled.
that earned him a wider smile from you, your eyes lighting up.
he cleared his throat, before replying, willing himself to speak a little louder. “i’m not going anymore,” he clarified, the sound of their teasing laughter still ringing in his ears. “you… you should go with someone else.”
“…well we don’t have to go to the school dance. we can just do our own thing,” you suggested. “i didn’t really wanna go anyways. it’s just gonna be a bunch of sweaty teenagers packed into the gym,” you shrugged.
pope’s brows furrowed, the thought of you choosing to spend time with him rather than attending a special event seemed out of reach.
“oh! how about the science museum? it’ll be open late if we go on a friday night…” you continued, rambling on and on about other potential options, other things that included you spending time with him.
pope quietly stared at you, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift in reality. he had been ready to crawl into a hole and never come out, but now, you were standing right in front of him, casually pitching a night at the museum as if it were the most obvious choice in the world.
“the science museum?” he repeated, the tension slowly bleeding out of his shoulders.
“yeah! unless, you think looking at fossilized bones and learning about our solar system is too lame for a friday night?” you teased.
a tiny, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of pope’s lips. “i heard they’re also opening a new wing for exotic bugs and insects,” he informed.
“so… is that a yes?” you asked softly, leaning in slightly, your eyes searching his. “andrew, i never cared about the dance. i just wanted to go with you,” you added, sensing his hesitation.
the lingering sting of embarrassment finally vanished, replaced by something warmer, something steady fluttering in his chest. his drumming fingers went still against his leg. he looked down at the handmade gift in your hands, then back up at your face, realizing you meant every word.
“yeah,” he said, a shy, but genuine smile breaking across his face. “…i’d really like that.”
without thinking, you reached out and gently squeezed his wrist. “it’s a date, then.”
pope felt his cheeks heat up, but for the first time all week, he didn’t mind at all. “it’s a date,” he agreed.
another sweet smutty blurb for my sweetie pie popeyyyy 🤍
MDNI, 18+, mentions of sm**f
pope fucks like he has a gun to his head and if he doesn’t nut in under 5 minutes his head will be blown clean off. For him it always felt rigid and sterile.
it's not his fault, not really.
The few times he'd had sex it was a means to an end - hard and fast and then done. Usually paid for by sm**f or one of his brothers. He had never had it slow and sweet and you're so sure that sm**f was the reason. How she had warped the way he views sex and intimacy. Almost like it was just some sort of exchange, currency - a 'reward' he would get sometimes when he was deemed worthy.
And then he met you.
Don’t get me wrong, you loved when pope annihilated you. But, sometimes you had to remind your sweet boy to slow down.
Because right now he's fucking into you so hard that he's got your head knocking back on the headboard like a beating drum. "oh-ng-fu-ck-a-and-dy" you squeak out between harsh thrusts that are pushing the air out of your lungs. You look up at him, his eyes are screwed shut, his fists are balled up so tight beside your head, fisted into the sheets. He's so tense, poor thing, the veins up his forearm and the tendons down the sides of his neck creating the deepest canyons between them.
He’s straining, racing to the finish line
You manage to place your palm in the centre of his chest, sliding it over to the side you feel his heart hammering away under his strong chest. He’ll work himself off a cliff in the next 10 seconds if you don’t reel him back in.
Grazing his nipple as your palm continues its journey and up to the side of his face you caress his cheek “an-andy op-open your e-yes” you try and coo at him with your breath hitching each time his cock slams into you.
He rips his eyelids open, his eyes underneath glazed and erratic. “i-im m’sorry-m-sorry did I hurt you?” He pants, halting his movements as he checks you.
“N-no honey, j-just breathe a bit hm? Slow down my love, m’not going anywhere” You coo sweetly
He looks down at you, eyebrows knitted in confusion like he can’t compute your instructions and you smile
“lay down for me?” You ask softly as you push him back.
that, he knows how to do
He pulls out of you, rock hard and dripping from all your slick and he lays down on his back. His eyes don’t leave yours, watching you cautiously with bated breath as you climb on top of him.
“let me?” You smile down at him. Your soft kisses soothe his furrowed eyebrows “breathe andrew” you whisper with one last kiss on his lips. And all he can do is nod in response as his chest heaves up with a big inhale.
your poor sweet puppy
And so so slowly you start to ease yourself down onto him. Savouring each inch of his thick cock, each veiny ridge pushing through your walls. He throws his head back on the pillow with a breathy "uhh-shit". You sink down, completely, the stretch feeling anew as if he wasn’t just tearing you apart 10 seconds ago.
Seated pretty on him, your hands slide up his dense torso, up his chest and you curl one hand behind his neck, lowering yourself down to him.
“feel good?” You ask him softly with a kiss
He nods with a breathy “yyeah” and you feel his cock twitch inside of you - everything about you is just so warm and soft like the home he never had. Your soft, supple tits pressed against his strong chest, his hard cock nestled deep inside your warm wet loving cunt.
“just relax, let me take care of you okay puppy?” You coo at him with a kiss before pushing yourself up and his head follows yours, lips chasing yours for one more kiss. With both hands placed firm on the centre of his chest and your tits pressed together between your arms you start moving your hips.
Slow drags up and down, watching every tick on Andrew’s face as he relishes the feeling of your warm walls sliding up as down on him.
You see his fists shut tight beside him like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
You drop your hands to his and pick them up as you continue to ride him. He’s breathing so fast, short and sharp with his big chest puffing up as his eyes dart over every inch of your skin. “you wanna touch me andy?” you whimper out between moans and he nods back so desperately “yeah c-can i please?”
such a good boy
“yyyea-huh you can touch me” You guide his hands up your body. His rough hands under yours slowly move up your thighs and his thumb tucks into the dip where they meet at your hips with his four meaty fingers gripping into the swell of your ass and there’s a strained groan that escapes him, one he tried to keep deep in his throat
He’s grabbed your ass before, sure - he normally has a hand resting on it on the couch but not like this. Not when you’re riding him so devastatingly slow.
The grip around your hip bones tightens, so tight you’re sure you’ll bruise and you feel his hips fuck into you from beneath, his torso rolling like a slow motion wave - slow and controlled with a firm thrust up into your pussy when he bottoms out.
And fuck it feels good “oooh yesss good boy andy just like that”
“y-yeahh? is t-that good?” He stammers beneath you, his eyes big and glassy staring into yours so desperate for your approval.
“mmhm yea honey, f-feel soo good” you nod down at him in a breathy moan and he feels his chest swell with pride, doing so good for his angel above him.
At your approval in the form of a breathy little moan and your furrowed eyebrows he starts fucking up into you, hearing you make those soft, breathy noises that he loves. Pope starts finding his rhythm as he digs his heels into the mattress, and pumps inside of you slow and deep.
One big hand stays on your hip with that bruising grip keeping you stable. The other trails up the curve of your waist and he cups your tits in his palm and he gasps softly, it was like he was feeing you for the first time.
Your own hand rests on top of his as he massages your breast, and your other arms stretches out to hold yourself up against the headboard. You start to push your hips back against him, grinding your hips down onto his. Pushing him deeper and deeper "oh-oh gggod" he groans, craning his neck down to look at his cock, covered in your juices as it squelches in and out of your hole.
His rough hand slides up from your hip, settling between your shoulder blades and you feel him push your body down closer to him “can you k-kiss me p-lease?” He asks you breathily like he’s begging for his last meal before a death sentence - honestly he feels like he might die here - he’d be so happy to go like this. How could you say no to those pretty eyes blinking up at you.
Letting yourself sink down to him, your body pressed firm on his, your full tits squished into his chest. You feel his palm cradle the back of your head. Lips together, tongues sliding into each other’s mouths as if experiencing a new foreign taste.
Swallowing Andy’s moan in your mouth you smile on his lips. One hand firm on your head with the other exploring every inch of you that he can touch. He starts fucking into you again, slow languid rolls of his hips pushing himself deeper and deeper into your cunt and you feel your body melt on top of his with that familiar flutter in your belly growing stronger and stronger.
You feel his big brawny arms wrap tighter around your waist and his kiss getting sloppier “d-do you love me?” he asks with a desperate rasp beneath it.
opening your eyes you see him staring into yours, his waterline overflowing as he nears his release “I love you andy” you breath into his lips and you feel his cock jump inside of you.
“y-yyeah?” there’s a furrow in his brows as he asks again, like he doesn’t believe it, he just needs to hear you say it again.
“mmhyeah andy, i love you so much” you’re crying out now, nodding your head as legs quivering on top of him.
The dam in his eyes breaks open as the tears start trickling down the sides of his face. Pulling your lips from his you kiss his tears off his temples and up to the corner of his eyes, whispering your i love yous into his skin
“I-i love you oh my god i love you” pope whimpers into your cheek, turning his head to you, desperate for your lips as your pussy starts fluttering around his cock.
You feel the thundering of a kaleidoscope of butterflies being released inside of you as you grind your needy clit down on his hips. Toes curling as your arms circle tighter around his neck almost strangling him.
“ohh fuck im gonna cum andy ohhhmygod” you mewl as his lips connect with yours
He’s crying, swallowing your sounds.
“C-can i cum-please? wanna cum with you?” He begs in a choked sob
“yesss andy oh my god p-please cum inside of me please please please” you’re the one begging him now as the tears free fall from your eyes.
Your cunt clamping around his cock as his milky hot cum spurts out into your perfect little pussy - all his. And you feel like you’ve been set alight, rutting your hips on-top of him like you’re in heat.
“Uh-uh i love you so much oh god” he sobs with a pitchy strangled groan as his hips stutter to a stop beneath you as you litter his face with kisses.
Your chests heave together as both of your bodies go limp but his arms never leave you. Holding you so tight to him pushing his hot wet face into your neck.
He’d had sex before, sure - but he’d never made love.
And he couldn’t wait to do it over and over again, just like this
🤍
—
a/n: fuck smurf, love u andy, my sweet Ethel Cain coded boy
Also all smurf slander will absolutely be tolerated, in fact encouraged
you aren’t afraid of pope, even when he thinks you should be
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wc: 1.9k
warning: this isn't exciting, i'm sorry, i just love how awkward pope is and i love how weird he is and i love thinking of someone understanding him. also this isn't edited at all that's #mybad
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You meet Pope in the depths of summer. You’re a friend of Deran’s, hanging around with him and a couple of people you didn’t know at the Cody house. People are stumbling drunk and high around the pool and the air smells of smoke and chlorine hangs in the air. You’re only half-paying attention to the conversation being had. Instead, your gaze had fallen on the man who was standing on the other side of the pool staring you down. His stare is intense and unwavering, chin tipped ever so slightly down. You haven’t met him, but you recognize he is Deran’s older brother. You’d seen him once before when you’d dropped by to see Deran. Pope had been standing out in the pool, fully dressed and staring off into the distance.
“That’s just my brother,” Deran had said, his jaw tensing a little as he looked away from you, “I’d ignore it. He’s just… yeah. He’s going through some shit.”
“You don’t have to explain,” you told him, gentle in response to his defensive tone, “I understand. Everyone has stuff to work through.”
Now, Pope was staring at you, not looking away even though you’d noticed and were looking back. Normally, something like that would make you, or anyone else, uncomfortable. Instead, you smile a little at him. That takes Pope by surprise. He’d anticipated you to flinch away, to duck your head and mumble to your friends that some scary guy was watching you. Your smile disarms him so much he starts stalking over to you, your eyes staying on him the entire time.
When he reaches you he stands looming over your chair, looking between your face and the beer bottle in your hand. You’re about to say something when he doesn’t speak, but his expression has shifted into a faint frown and his gaze has slipped over to the people talking.
“Dude, you have to establish dominance and be like- the alpha wolf or some shit.” A guy was saying. You roll your eyes and sigh, already bored by whatever it is he was saying.
“Actually, there aren’t alpha wolves in the wild,” Pope is interjecting. His voice is raspy yet softer than you thought it would be.
The group falls silent, Deran included, and turns to give Pope confused looks.
“They’re pack animals. They… they work together. Wolves cooperate and take care of each other.”
You hear one of the girls give a confused laugh and turn to watch her exchange looks with her friends, adopting a wide-eyed this guy is sooo weird look. When you turn back to Pope he’s shifting from heel to heel, flexing his fingers one at a time.
“This is my brother Pope,” Deran says to you, clearing his throat while the other people, who you were starting to dislike more by the second, laughed with each other. You watch Pope’s nervous hands as he stands in silence.
“I was watching a documentary that talks about that the other day,” you say finally, staring up at Pope from where you’re seated. You smile a little at him. You notice that he subtly pouts his lips a little when he’s thinking. It’s a cute expression you think, especially from someone as intense as him.
“I watch a lot of nature documentaries.” Pope finally says, his voice a little quieter.
He's walking away before you can respond.
-
You can’t get Pope off your mind after that. There was just something about him. You didn’t know what exactly. He’d just found his way into your head and wouldn’t leave.
The next time you see him he’s sitting on a chair and watching, unsurprisingly, one of the documentaries he seems to love so much. You’d planned to just come over to use the pool, Deran told you that it was fine whenever you wanted, but when you got to the house you saw Pope sitting there watching TV.
He didn’t seem relaxed. He’s sitting with a stiff back, his eyes fixed on the screen where coyotes are slinking through a hot desert. You’re wearing shorts and a bikini top, the sun and pool outside so so inviting. Yet, you don’t make your way outside. Instead, you find yourself sinking onto the couch quietly, studying Pope for a moment before turning your attention to the documentary. You aren’t sure Pope even notices your presence until he speaks.
“Coyotes take really good care of their pups,” he says suddenly, making you turn to look at him, “they mate for life and some of the pups stay with their family their whole lives. People think they’re bad but they aren’t.”
You can’t see his full face from your angle, but you can see enough to know this is something his mind has been working over for a while.
“They don’t sound bad at all to me,” you say and he finally turns to look at you, “it sounds nice, having a family that you can always be with.”
Pope watches you for a long moment before turning away.
“Are you here to swim?” He finally asks.
You shrug even though he isn’t looking at you anymore. Part of you is let down that he isn’t.
“I was, but I thought what you were watching looked interesting,” you say, wondering if you were bothering him now.
“I used to love swimming.” Pope says.
“Yeah?” You ask, smiling now, happy he’s wanting to talk, “Do you still like to?”
Pope does his little thinking pout and then shakes his head.
“I don’t know. I haven’t really swam in a long time.”
That’s enough to have you standing up, offering him your hand.
“Come on,” you say, standing in front of him, his hazel eyes trailing slowly up your body in a way that makes your chest feel a bit warm. When he gives you a confused look you smile, shaking your hand in front of him, urging him to take it, “I’m serious. It’s a beautiful day out and you have a pool. We should swim.”
He eventually takes your hand and allows you to drag him to stand up. His eyes have softened a little, that everpresent troubled look to him easing away.
“Go change into something you can swim in.” You tell him as you try to let go of his hand, but he’s not letting go of yours. You watch his throat move as he swallows and looks away.
“I’ll swim in this.”
He’s in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, which isn’t really strange to swim in considering you’d seen him standing in the pool wearing jeans before.
“Okay,” you tell him, smiling brightly, pleased that he at least isn’t denying you.
His hand feels heavy in yours, his fingers thick and warm as they engulf your own. He doesn’t let go even as you drag him to the pool. You take your shorts off, wanting to strip to your bikini bottoms. Even then he isn’t letting go of your hand. He stands awkwardly beside you as you use one hand to unbutton your little denim shorts. Something about it all makes you more endeared towards him, his need for contact making you soften even more towards him. If he wants to keep holding your hand you don’t mind.
You notice his hazel eyes following as your shorts slide down to your ankles and you step out of them. Out here in the sun you can see the depth in them, the greens and browns that weave together in his irises.
He finally releases your hand, the motion reluctant, and then strips off his t-shirt. You don’t mean to stare, really you don’t. But it’s impossible not to. His frame is strong and broad. You vaguely remember an offhand comment Craig once made about Pope boxing and you try to imagine going up to fight against him. You imagine the weight of his body hurtling towards someone else, how terrifying the solidity of him must be when you’re on the opposite end of his fist.
When he reaches for you though, it’s timid and gentle, tentatively lacing your fingers together as if he is afraid you might not let him.
“Come on,” you say, smiling and looking at his face again where you notice his cheeks have taken on a touch of pink.
You step down into the water, shivering a little at how cold it feels compared to the heat outside. Pope follows you until you’re standing chest deep, the water hitting a bit lower on him than it does on you.
“Your pool is so nice. I wish I had one.” You sigh and float onto your back, liking how it made you feel weightless.
Pope has finally released your hand again, opting instead to slowly drag his open palms back and forth through the cool water.
“I mostly swam at motels as a kid,” Pope says, his voice a little quieter now, “Smurf had us moving around a lot before we got this place.”
You hum and lean forwards so you’re upright again, facing him. He’s sunk down a little into the water so the top of it laps over his chin.
“What made you stop?”
The question makes him turn his head away from you, hesitating before just shrugging in response. You’re sure there’s something there but you worry prying will just make him pull away. Instead you just float in the water with him, watching as he finally ducks under the water, swimming across the pool.
When he resurfaces he’s smiling, the first you’ve ever seen on him. His teeth are a little crooked and you notice the lines that form by his eyes like rivers. You grin back, laughing a little which makes him laugh too. It feels easy to be around him like this and your ease makes him feel all mixed up inside. When was the last time anyone had felt comfortable with him like this? He wasn’t sure. Your openness encouraged him though, made him feel like there were poprocks fizzing in his chest.
The two of you swam like that for a while, losing track of time, you mostly watching as he dove under water or spun or floated. His curls were soaked and sticking to his scalp, and you swore he somehow had even more freckles than he had earlier. He was beautiful like this and you felt greedy with it, desperate to drink in every piece of himself he’d give.
When you were both too tired to stay in the water you both dragged yourselves out of the pool. The sun has begun to set and the air is cooling down. You wrap yourself in a towel and watch Pope as he roughly dries himself off, his back muscles shifting under his skin. You watch the movement of him a little too closely and he notices, meeting your gaze. You go warm in the face and quickly turn away, focusing on squeezing some of the water from your hair.
“If you want… you can use my shower. You know, stay over for dinner or somethin’.” Pope has that awkwardness to him again, but still seems lighter than before.
“That’d be nice,” you say, and then you’re smiling again and he is too. You’ve probably smiled more at him in one day than anyone has in his whole life.
“I’ll uh, I’ll show you where my room is.” He says, voice bordering on bashful as he reaches out to take your hand, lacing your fingers together before leading you inside.
Animal Kingdom x The Pitt crossover basic idea: Let’s assume that both universes are set in the same city, and the reader ends up having to be taken to the hospital because she was involved in an accident or was injured in some other way (I haven’t watched AK, so I have no idea if this could happen more intentionally, like as an act of retaliation; if not, just consider a more plausible scenario), and Andrew is contacted because he’s her emergency contact.
Obviously, he’s sensible enough not to say anything incriminating in front of others, but I think it would be interesting to see how the Pitt crew would react to the couple (if you consider it plausible that the reader was intentionally injured, for whatever reason, because, depending on their vibe—especially Andrew’s—I imagine they might suspect the couple of having ties to a gang or at least wonder how she could have ended up in that situation). 👀
In your other crossovers involving these fandoms, the reader usually is part of the The Pitt staff, so I find the idea interesting that she isn’t part of it this time and that her relationship with Andrew (and, consequently, perhaps some of the tension that exists within it?) is observed by an outsider who doesn't have all the details.
These Hands Are Gentle
summary: after a bank heist with your husband and brothers-in-law went sideways, you were forced to make a split-second decision that ultimately lands you at the pittsburgh trauma medical center where the doctors are concerned about your bruises and the your husband's split knuckles after he arrives.
tags: andrew "pope" cody x reader, canon typical violence, animal kingdom x the pitt, concerned pitt staff, protective andrew, hurt reader, job gone wrong, 18+ MDNI
notes: thank you nonnie for this beautiful and delicious request! I'm glad everyone seems to like my doppelgänger fics, especially the ones with jack and andrew! if you'd like to join my permanent master list, please comment here! enjoy!
word count: 4.6k
You hated Pittsburgh.
Compared to sunny Oceanside, the Pennsylvania city was all smog and despair. You, technically, weren’t even supposed to be there, but being a dutiful wife, you followed your husband and his brothers wherever they went. Being a part of a crime family (whose favorite pastime was robbing banks) had its perks, one of them being the first-class tickets they al splurged on. The other being the large house that they rented during your stay. If you closed your eyes long enough, the pool could almost transform into the ocean waves.
But that had been at the beginning of your stay when you believed the job would go right.
You should have known that the job wasn’t as simple as it had seemed. The plan was to rob a bank; simple enough for men who’d been doing it for more than half their lives. However, Pittsburgh wasn’t Oceanside that seemed to be stuck in the early 2010’s with beach shops that had sub-par security systems and workers who cared more for their lives than pressing the emergency button.
Andrew hadn’t wanted you there . . . as in, inside the bank when it all went down. He knew how fast jobs could go south; he knew the risks better than anyone. Three years and nineteen days in prison had shown him that truth. Yet, since the city remained foreign, they needed eyes and ears in the lobby.
That was where you had come in dressed as a civilian with an earpiece tucked strategically behind your hair.
For fifteen minutes, the plan went smoothly. Andrew and the boys came in, guns raised with masks over their faces. You played your part as the hostage, hands in the air, stomach to the floor while they demanded money to be shoved in their bags.
For fifteen minutes, you believed that you all would get out of there unscathed.
By minute seventeen, the emergency alarm went off three minutes early; a result of a forgotten clerk who was already bent behind the counter before the boys had even walked through the glass doors.
You watched them panic behind their otherwise cool demeanor. Instead of running, they waited for the rest of the cash before sinking out the back. Andrew, still going according to plan, picked you up by the arm and pushed the butt of his empty gun to your temple. He dragged you along, and you kicked and screamed the entire way again as the perfect hostage.
It wasn’t until freedom was in sight, twenty-seven minutes after the plan went into motion, when the first wave of cops rushed in. You could hear them yell all the way from where Andrew held you close. And for what you believed to be the first time ever, you felt Andrew freeze at your back. Your hands that gripped his forearm tightened.
“You need to leave,” you hissed quietly. “Now.”
“No,” he replied, voice so low it left no room for debate.
You shook your head. “You cannot go back to prison; I won’t let you. Drop me and find me later.”
Andrew whispered your name in that soft tone he used to always get his way when the two of you argued. If you turned, you knew you’d see his soft and pleading hazel eyes. Andrew may have been a hardened criminal to most people, but he never failed to show that he reserved a special softness specifically for you. With the quickest kiss in history to the back of your hair, lips pushing through the strands, he shoved you forward and ran.
Your hands scraped against the ground while your mind raced. To everyone else, you’d been taken hostage, but the lack of injuries would probably look suspicious. Not knowing what else to do, you sucked in a breath, curled your fist, and started hitting yourself.
The first punch landed against your cheekbone. The second managed to catch the divot of your eye. The third made a cut by your lip, curtesy of your engagement ring and wedding band. After that, you lost yourself in the motions until your face pulsed with extra blood in painful beats.
Voices grew louder, and in one final attempt at making yourself look beaten and bruised, you threw yourself back down to the ground. Your head rested and rolled against the cold, scratchy concrete. It couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds before the back door burst open with men drenched in SWAT uniforms. You pushed a desperate, overexaggerated whimper from your lungs.
“We got one over here!” you heard one of them yell. “We need a medic! Abbot!”
Footsteps thudded in your ears, adding to the rush of blood and the dizzying feeling that was threatening to swallow you whole. Your self-given hits might have been a bit overboard, but Andrew had been the one to teach you how after giving a whole lesson as to why self-defense was important to learn. You let your eyes flutter closed after the footsteps seemed to grow louder.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?” a voice asked right above your head as hands gently rolled you onto your back. “Ma’am? Can you open your eyes for me?”
No you wanted to say, but really all that came out was another pained noise. Blood from the lip cut already drenched your teeth and trickled down the side of your chin.
“Victim is unresponsive. Calling in a 10-52.”
Ambulance needed your brain provided, and your heart raced below your sternum. Ambulance meant hospital, and a hospital meant questions. Your eyes flew open while you pushed out a sound of disagreement. Your hands shuffled below your body and began to push your top half up, but that same gentle hand pressed you back down.
“Nope; you gotta stay down for me. You’ve been in a heist and hostage situation. Can you tell me your name?”
You mumbled it out, body giving up any fight since you knew it was pointless. They were going to take you in anyway.
“Okay, that’s good. Glad to be acquainted with you,” he said while his hands ran over your face, checking your injuries.
Through slotted eyelids, you glanced at his blurry face and frowned. Slowly, your hand raised and tried to touch his face, but the motion was more of a swat, and Jack was quick to push it back down next to your side. Your brows furrowed.
“Andrew?” you muttered in confusion.
Andrew wasn’t supposed to be dressed up as a SWAT medic. Even if he’d donned other uniforms, wearing one now wasn’t part of the plan. He should have been long gone with your brothers-in-law. If this was a deviation, you were going to give Craig and Deran a stern talking to the moment you found them again.
“There’s no Andrew here, ma’am. My name’s Jack.” He met your eyes before sighing, face turning towards the radio clipped to near his shoulder. “Victim is disoriented. What’s the status for my 10-52?”
He had just finished asking when the wail of an ambulance suddenly rattled your skull. It was so loud, it could have been right on top of you. The sound gulped you down until all you could hear was the cry of the siren. Your eyes blinked lazily as you looked around. More feet joined near Jack, and the next thing you knew, you were being slid over onto a gurney. You grunted when they lifted the gurney into the ambulance. Jack used both hands to haul him in after you.
“All right,” he said once the doors closed. “We’re going to take you to Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center to get you looked over.”
The paramedics placed leads under your shirt and followed with a quick check of your vitals. You squinted when they flashed a penlight across your eyes.
“Pupils are equally reactive. No signs of concussion.”
Jack pursed his lips. He knew you had to have been “down” for at least five minutes, and looking at the severeness of his injuries, he was confused. You were giving him the textbook symptoms of a Grade 1 Concussion: mild confusion, slow blinking, wincing at the noise.
“Let’s get her hooked to an IV,” he ordered. “And I want a CT ordered.” Jack rubbed a hand on your arm when your eyes closed again and said your name loud enough to get your attention. “Do you have an emergency contact we can get a hold of?”
You were silent for two breaths. “My husband, Andrew. Phone’s in my pocket . . .” you trailed.
“We’ll make sure to get him called,” one of the paramedics reassured.
“Thank you.”
After another round of vital checks, the ambulance screeched to a halt. The doors swung open, and instantly, there was another group of people waiting for intake. You jolted with the gurney as it dropped down from the ambulance. Your chest expanded in a sharp inhale when the sliding doors opened. With men all around you, the oncoming emergency department devoured you into the belly filled with people who, if they asked enough questions, might be able to put your family into prison.
_______________________
Andrew had never felt such pure terror than when he pushed you to the ground and ran without a second look goodbye.
You were his wife, his life, and his reason for living all wrapped into one, and he had left you behind after promising that nothing would go wrong. He had to swallow every single curse word and insult under the sun in order to not spew them at his brothers, especially Craig who was supposed to be the one who counted the employees. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel as he drove them around and around, waiting and praying that his phone would ring with you telling him where to pick you up.
But with every lap that you didn’t call, his panic grew and grew until it wrapped around his throat.
“Dude, a watched pot never boils. Stop looking at your phone,” Craig muttered from the passenger seat. “She’ll call when she gets somewhere safe.”
“She should already be gone by now,” Andrew barked back.
Deran shook his head, hands gripping the backs of both seats. “And she’s smart. If they kept her longer for questioning, it might be a couple of minutes.”
Suddenly, Andrew’s phone began to ring, yet Craig was the one to pick it up and put it on speaker. When the call went through, they waited for you to be the first one to speak, however, their concern and confusion grew when your voice wasn’t the one to flood the speaker.
“Hello? Is this Andrew Cody?”
The three of them glanced around before Andrew spoke.
“This is he? Who are you, and why do you have my wife’s phone?” he questioned, fingers gripping the wheel even tighter because he knew if he let go, his hands would be shaking.
“Hi Mr. Cody. My name’s Dana Evans, and I am the charge nurse at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. Mr. Cody, have you spoken to your wife recently?”
Andrew’s heart thudded in his chest. Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center? What happened after he left you? Why were you at the hospital? Were you hurt?
He cleared his voice. “She was supposed to be coming back from the bank.” He swallowed a gripe. “Is my wife okay?”
“Unfortunately, it looks like your wife here was held up during a bank heist earlier this morning. SWAT officers picked her up after finding her out back with some injuries that needed to be looked at.”
Injuries? Andrew’s brows pinched. “Injuries?”
“Yes, sir. Looks like one of the suspects beat her up before fleeing.”
Deran sat up and leaned between the front seats, looking equally confused as Craig and Andrew. They both knew that, while Andrew wouldn’t hesitate to rough up someone, he’d never touch you.
“Is she okay?” Andrew asked once he knew he could talk without his voice breaking.
“Right now we’re holding her while we wait for a CT, she’s already given a statement, so if the CT comes back just fine, she’s good to go home.”
“Am I able to come sit with her while she waits?”
“That would be perfectly fine, Mr. Cody.”
Craig pulled out his own phone and quickly typed in the address while Andrew spun the wheel to turn the car around. He quickly wrapped up the phone call and stomped on the gas. At one point, Deran had to remind him to slow down; they couldn’t afford to be pulled over with the guns and bags of cash in the back. Hesitantly, Andrew released the pedal just a bit but kept a steady speed. His heart never once calmed down during the entire drive, and it seemed to race even more when he pulled up to the front.
Andrew didn’t even say anything before he jumped out of the driver’s seat and stalked up to the door. If Deran and Craig were smart, they’d drive off and go back to the rental to lie low while Andrew stayed with you until the scan was finished.
All at once, his senses overloaded the minute he stepped foot into the waiting room. Blood tanged the air, babies wailed, and adults yelled at a patient woman sitting behind Plexi glass. Andrew hated every moment of it while he stood in line, and he desperately wished he remembered to grab his earplugs from the car door.
“Next please?”
He stepped forward and wrung his hands. The woman looked up and smiled at him, an action that made his chest ache.
“How can I help you, sir?” she asked.
Andrew looked around before holding eye contact. “I got a call about my wife being here. I’d like to sit with her.” His voice stayed monotone and held a wave of anxious feelings.
The woman typed something into her computer. “First name?”
He said your name before spelling it.
“Last name?”
“Cody. C-O-D-Y.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Ah, there she is. You can come around back. She’ll be in Room 3.”
To his right, he heard the door hiss and unlock. He gave the woman a silent nod before slipping through the door. Again, he hates the way the next room is crowded, even if he knows that rushing doctors and nurses are necessary in an ER. Without much thought, his hazel eyes lock onto Room Number 3.
You were behind that door.
Andrew knocked once before entering and paused in the threshold. Every nerve in his body fired at the sight of your face. He noted the cut on your lip, the mottled bruise that spanned from your eye to your cheek bone, and the matching shade on the opposite side near your temple. He was going to kill whoever did this to you.
You, on the other hand, perked right up when Andrew walked through the door.
“Andy,” you said, holding out your hand.
Andrew stayed put, and his hands curled by his sides while he continued to watch you. He tracked the wires sticking out of your shirt and up to the heart monitor in the corner. The rhythmic beeping did little to settle him, but it also helped him know that you weren’t dying.
“Andy.”
He tore his eyes away and looked back at you.
“Come here.”
Almost like a trained dog, he obeyed. It took him two steps to get to the side of your bed, and you grabbed his hand once he was close enough. With a small tug, you made him sit down. Your hand rose and settled against his cheek, thumb rubbing in a back-and-forth motion under his eye. He continued staring as he took in your face now that he was closer.
“Who hurt you?” he whispered, tone baring a viciousness you hadn’t heard in a while.
Your face scrunched in a wince. “You’re going to think this is silly,” you said, and your casualness made him jolt.
Andrew swallowed thickly around his tongue. “You’re hurt. How is that silly?” He raised his hands and cupped your face but remained careful of your injuries.
“You shouldn’t have taught me to punch so hard,” you muttered. “I guess I didn’t know my own strength. That’s what’s silly.”
“What?” His eyes took another lap around your face before he realized the meaning of your words.
Sure you had bruising, but the locations didn’t make much sense. When Andrew punched, he drove his fists into the middle of someone’s face since it was the largest area that he could reach. He rarely ever went for a lip or the high cheek bone unless whoever he was after kept squirming. His chest finally loosened a bit when a small chuckle pushed past his lips at the ridiculousness of it all.
“You did this?” he asked, lips curling ever so slightly.
You nodded slowly before speaking in a low tone. “Thought it’d look suspicious if I was taken and came out unharmed.”
Andrew leaned forward, placed his lips to your forehead, and held them there for a few seconds. He couldn’t help but think about how perfect you were. Unasked, you had injured yourself so that they could get away, and cops were always too concerned to press for more questions. When he pulled back, he placed kiss on your lips.
While you kissed back, your hands trailed until they covered his. Your fingers rubbed against his knuckles until you felt a roughness across the skin.
“Did you punch Craig or something?” you asked against him.
“No. Punched the steering wheel.”
“Andy—”
“You didn’t call; I got mad.”
“Doesn’t mean you need to punch the poor rental.”
Andrew grumbled, and you leaned back enough to look fully at his face until you remembered something important about the emergency department you were currently at. However, before you could speak, someone knocked at the door. Andrew instantly pushed up and stood near the top of the bed next to where you were propped up acting like a guard dog waiting for his next order.
In the next breath, two people entered the room. You recognized the first woman since she had already been in once to go over your plan of car, but the tall man next to her looked utterly surprised when his eyes looked past your shoulder to where Andrew was standing. He quickly composed himself as he shut the door behind him.
“Sorry about that wait for the CT. The line is backed up like no other. I’m Dr. Robinavitch, the senior attending on shift,” he introduced himself, trying to keep his eyes on you.
However, you caught the way his gaze shifted towards your husband more than you liked.
“All good, doc,” you cooly responded. “The only thing I’m missing is pool time at our house.”
He chuckled at the joke. “Sounds to me like you’re feeling better, which coincides with your all-clear scan.”
Your shoulders loosened at the news. “Does this mean I get to leave soon?”
The woman—Dr. Trinity Santos—nodded this time. “Yep. We just have to run one more test if possible.”
“One more test?” you echoed. “I’m sure a couple of bruises don’t need more testing if the CT came back clear.”
Andrew’s hand lifted and rested against your shoulder, but he continued to stay quiet. You looked up at him and softly smiled before looking back at the two doctors.
“I think I should be fine, yes?”
Trinity bit her lip, and her fingers played with the tablet that she held to her chest. “We just want to make sure that everything is perfectly fine before we get you your discharge papers. If we could just have your—” She took a quick glance at the tablet screen. “—husband step out, we’ll have you out of here in no time.”
Oh.
You knew exactly what was happening, and you felt like an idiot for not realizing sooner that they were probably thinking that Andrew was the one to put you in this hospital bed even though you’d told them that you were roughed up by the “bank suspects.”
Andrew surprised you by speaking first. “I’m not leaving my wife while she’s already hurt.”
Dr. Robinavitch slightly stood up taller. “I can assure you that it’s just precaution and standard protocols for patients.”
The hand on your shoulder gripped you tighter, but you knew that was just Andrew’s fear of leaving you flooding out of his system. You needed to think of something fast before they even thought of calling security.
“I know exactly what you’re going to ask if he were to step out,” you stated. “And I can assure you that my bruises were caused by the men that robbed the bank.”
The two doctor’s eyes widened.
“Ma’am, that’s not—”
You held up a hand. “Please. I can see the way you’re both looking at him with apprehension. To an outsider, it does make sense. I have bruises all over my face, and his knuckles happen to be split. And I understand that so many can say this was all some coincidence, but sometimes that’s the truth. My husband boxes; that’s actually why we’re in town.”
Andrew caught on to what you were saying. “Yeah. One of my buddies was plannin’ a tourney for later this week over at Conn-Greb Boxing Club. Thought I’d come visit and help out.”
You giggled slightly to ease the tension in the room. “His gloves didn’t fit in the bags because . . . well, I think I got excited when he told me he got us a house with a pool, and I packed way too many swimsuits.”
Trinity and Dr. Robinavitch glanced at each other before Trinity looked back down at the tablet. You knew that she wanted to keep pressing, and a part of you was thankful that she did. You’d known of so many women who had to go back to abusive households because their doctors didn’t want to deal with the paperwork.
“Is Dr. Abbot still here?” you asked instead. “He was the one who found me, and other than this morning, I’ve been away from Andrew all day. Maybe he can convince you two.”
Dr. Robinavitch seemed to mull your words over before he twisted and opened the door. His voice was muffled a bit, but that didn’t really matter since he pulled back in after a few words. The door remained open until a familiar man walked through the doors. You couldn’t help but smirk when the doctors’ eyes went back to Andrew before moving onto one of their own.
Jack gave you a once before looking at the man over your shoulder. “Well, glad to see it wasn’t a concussion talking.”
You looked up to Andrew and laughed softly. “Andy, when Dr. Abbot found me outside the bank, I thought you were there instead. Thought I finally got to see you in something other than your button up polos.”
At your try of a jest, Andrew pouted. “I thought you liked my button ups.”
“I do; I do,” you reassured before turning back to the group of three doctors. “On the other hand, I more than understand the need for caution, but I think I can say that Dr. Abbot is 100% certain these bruises were not there before I went to the bank.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose in understanding. He’d done enough extra testing for women with signs of abuse to know what was going on even before he walked in.
“Yeah,” he agreed with you. “Bruises were fresh when we got to her, and the cut on her lip was still bleeding as well. If CT came back clean, she’s all good to go. Definitely no need for one more test.” He shot a wink your way.
“But it’s good that you wanted to follow up, Dr. Santos. I know so many people need a doctor like you who’s not afraid to get more information.”
At your words, Trinity smiled. “Then I will go get your discharge papers. I hope your bruises heal and fade quickly, Mrs. Cody.”
Dr. Robinavitch didn’t say anything else, and the two of them left the room. Jack gave you one more smile, shook his head in amusement after glancing back at Andrew, and followed them out of the room.
It was silent until Andrew spoke up.
“Can’t believe they’d think I’d hit you,” he muttered. “I’d rather die.”
“I know, Andy,” you said before dropping your voice into a lower pitch. “But I had to do something. Like I said, you are not going back to jail and leaving me alone, Andrew Cody. You understand me?”
Andrew nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” You leaned back against the bed. “Should probably call your brothers. I’m sick of these white walls. And tell Craig that if he ate my leftovers, he might be the one to experience the best trauma center in Pittsburgh.”
_______________________
“No, literally, the guy was an exact copy of Dr. Abbot,” Trinity’s voice carried across the nurses’ station. “He was giving off this don’t look at me vibe, and honestly, I think that’s exactly the type of man his wife wants.”
Jack laughed as he looked over another tablet. “While I’m flattered you think he looked like me, Santos, I definitely didn’t see it. Poor woman was so confused, and I think she just wanted her husband in her time of need.”
Trinity huffed, her eyes finding Robby’s figure over on the other side of the counter. “Dr. Robby, you saw it right?”
Robby looked up from his computer. “Saw what right?”
“That husband with the lady earlier after the bank heist. He looked like a younger Dr. Abbot; the resemblance was uncanny.”
“She has you there, brother,” Robby replied. “Thought I was going crazy.”
“Man, I want to see Dr. Abbot’s doppelganger,” Victoria chimed in. “You know that there are at least seven people in the world who look like you? It’s crazy that you found one of them!”
“What were they here for anyway?” Jack questioned. “Her insurance statement came in from Oceanside, California.”
Trinity thought for a second. “I think he said a boxing tournament over the Conn-Greb Club. The dude was a tank.”
Jack cocked his head to the side. “Can’t be Conn-Greb. It’s closed for renovations. I had to find a new gym because of it, and now I’m down another fifty for a second membership.”
“Mmmm, pretty sure he said Conn-Greb.”
Victoria took out her phone. “What was their last name?”
“Cody.”
The med student went silent while she typed “Cody Oceanside, California” into a search engine. Her eyes widened when her screen flooded with multiple different news reports. “Oh.”
Trinity was instantly curious. “What’s oh, Crash?”
Victoria turned her phone around wordlessly, and an air of shock engulfed the station. Everyone stood silently as they read the first few headlines.
Andrew “Pope” Cody Released From Folsom Three Years After Bank Robbery
Heist Charges Dropped Against Cody Family
Cody Family Not Named in Recent Cartel Bust
Your name stood highlighted in the short blurbs that trailed off after a few words.
Trinity nodded slowly. “So Dr. Abbot’s doppelganger . . . is a part of a crime syndicate? The universe must have been laughing when that happened.” She shook her head. “Small world, right?”
Jack blinked slowly, taking it all in that he might have just let you two walk free now knowing that you were probably in on everything and it was too late to do anything. He leaned against the counter and sighed heavily.
daryl dixon would absolutely call his girl “bambi.”
not because it’s cute. because it makes sense.
he notices movement before faces, footsteps before voices. he’d clock immediately that she couldn’t make it twenty feet through the woods without catching a root, stumbling over a log, or snapping enough sticks underfoot to send every deer running.
the first time, “stumblin’ around with two left feet like bambi. gon’ get us killed.” brushing past her.
as time passes, i can just hear him shaking his head with that little half-smirk and going, “c’mere, bambi.”
jack abbot and his depraved gf!reader who only ever wants missionary with him. he thinks it's because you just want to be able to kiss or grab his ass while he fucks into you (which is true). he tries to put you on all fours after an entire dinner spent with you being a brat, you whine and plea, 'no! jackie please w-want to see you! need... need your mm..' 'what do you want dirty girl? hm? use your words? you were all talk just an hour ago, speak up.' you're already flushing at his taunting words and embarrassment crawling up your chest. 'w-want to feel your tummy against mine, please jackie.. i want to feel it pressing against mine' he feels his cock twitch at the confession and abandons all desire to punish you further, not when his dirty girl wants to feel his belly on yours. 'you want this old man's tummy on yours? hmm baby? you gonna take your old man's cock and let me rub this tummy against yours, baby? is that what you want?'
can’t stop thinking about pope being taken aback and almost hurt when he realizes you shaved your bush. like he’s genuinely mourning
AHHHH I LOVE THIS SM!! thank you so much for the request! 💗 sorry for any spelling mistakes did not proofread read literally did this in 20 minutes lol. Slán go fóill! Enjoy!
Pope doesn’t know why he loves the bush. Maybe it’s because you always have a bush, and he loves your pussy, maybe he likes the colour?…or maybe it’s because your scent is stronger because of it, but he thinks that’s gross of him and he’d never admit that to you. He loves it.
it had been a quickie in the afternoon, Lena was at a friends birthday party and one thing led to another, pulling your panties down to find a shock. “what the fuck?” he had uttered to himself, staring down at your bare mound. Literally bare. Goosebumps and all. “what’s the problem?” “you shaved your bush?” “gosh, Andy, don’t call it that,” “you shaved it all?” “yes.” “why would you do that?”
you just rolled your eyes, reaching to unbuckle his belt, feeling his enthusiasm dwindle slightly. hes sure his dick would’ve gone soft if the rest of you wasn’t so breathtaking. and if he didn’t know how your pussy felt so good. “is she not cold?” Andrew asked, brows furrowed and a genuinely disappointed tone, a small frown on his face. “andy!”
he took advantage of the free time, but later than night after Lena went to bed, he wouldn’t shut up. “whyd you shave it?”
“Can’t i shave my own cooch?” you retorted, glancing at him across the sofa, seeing him grimace slightly from the lewd language, like he never said worse stuff. “it felt a bit unruly. she needed a trim, anyway.” “and how would you feel if i went bald?” “excuse me, Andrew?” “you heard.” sassy andrew
you just stared at him, and you couldn’t help but be amused. “why are you so bothered? i’m not,” “because i like it.” he defended, “it’s meant to be there..protecting and warmth and shit..”
“Andy likes an 80’s porno bush?” you teased, nudging his thigh with your perfectly painted toes
“fuck off…”
“i won’t shave it off again. Hate to see you sulky, baby.” you promised, unable to fight back the amused smirk and stroking his cheek to reassure him.
(he would also never say this to your face, but he hates the stages when it grows back. all stubbly and shit? itchy? wouldn’t it just be easier to let it be? let it grow into a bush? the stubble feels harsh against his face when he eats you out, one of his favourite hobbies, and even against his own pelvis. then again, he can’t complain, not when his stubble is always on you; your cheeks, your lip, your thighs, your delicate folds.)
Thinking about in S4 when they’re at family dinner eating ribs and Deran is like ‘Pope, slow down.’ Imagine reader lovesss to cook and on his days he fights in the ring, you always make sure Pope comes home to a big homemade meal. You’re skipping around butt ass naked in a lil’ frilly white apron with strawberries all over it - and pretty red pumps to match. Each time you walk over to top off his water or replace his beer, he grabs a handful of your ass. He massages it while you dote on him, and gives it a smack as you saunter back to the kitchen - leaving fingerprints of whatever sauce he’s been sucking off his fingers on your ass cheek. 🥵
In the morning you’d make him an omelette with bacon and eggs, coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice. You’d set it down in front of him with a couple advil and a sweet kiss to his cheek. When he’s done, you take his empty plate and start the dishes. He comes up behind you and spins you around to face him. His beefy, veiny arms lift you on top of the counter.
“What are you-? Andrew!” You squeal, squeezing his shoulders tight while he picks you up like it’s nothing.
“Not finished eating, baby. Need something sweet.” He crouches down til he’s eye level with your pussy. He looks up at you with intense, hazel eyes surrounded by swollen cuts and purple bruises. His eyes are glassy as he holds your gaze for a moment, before diving into your glistening cunt. Your hands reach for his curls, tugging them as your back arches against the kitchen cabinets.
He eats your pussy like he didn’t just have breakfast seconds, just absolutely fucking devours it. He’s swirling his tongue around your folds while sucking on your puffy clit. And while he looks all dark and brooding with his injuries, he gets insecure and keeps looking up at you every so often to ensure he’s making you feel good.
“Oh Andy, yes! Right there,” you moan, giving him the reassurance he needs. He pulls away to put one finger - then two - into your sopping cunt. His chest vibrates with a low groan watching you clench around his thick digits, the squelching sound music to his ears. He puts his mouth back on your clit, resuming his previous movements while pumping his fingers in and out of you. It’s slow at first to get you used to them, and then he picks up the pace and curls his fingers, eliciting a particularly high pitched whine from you. You push his head down a little out of excitement, shoving his face deeper into your weepy pussy.
Pretty soon you’re coming undone on his mouth and fingers, legs squirming over his shoulders. He eats you through your orgasm, lapping and slurping up every last drop. When he’s finished he licks his fingers, savoring the taste of you. He was right, you were sweet. He presses soft kisses against the insides of your shaky thighs, nuzzling his nose into the plushy skin. He stands and helps you climb off the counter.
“Wrap your legs ‘round me, sweet girl.” You do as you’re told and wrap your legs around his waist. “Come on baby, let’s get you cleaned up.” Safe to say you had round two in the shower - back pressed against the ceramic tile while he’s holding you up off the ground in the position you’re in now - fucking up into you and tearing up when he cums inside because he just can’t believe he has the love of a woman like you.
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