Best friend. Fake girlfriend. Secret keeper. You knew your role In Deran Cody’s life. Everything was perfect until Andrew Cody showed back up and made you forget it. Now everything is unraveling, and there’s no one left on your side.
CW: Pope Cody x Reader, F! Reader, Deran Cody x Reader (friendship), Cody Family Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Secret Relationship, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Codependency, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, They Should Not Be Doing This, But They Do Anyway, Betrayal, Guilt Complex, Pope Cody Needs Therapy, Deran Cody Needs a Hug, Reader is Going Through It™, Everyone is a Little Bit Toxic, SMUT, Minors Do Not Interact, This Started as Smut and Became Feelings, No One Is Making Good Choices Here, I Blacked Out Writing This, Mentions of OCD, Homophobia, No Use of YN, No Physical Description of Reader
Gif not mine and credit goes to the creator.
AN: Well well well… here we are. Shawn Hatosy, I was unfamiliar with your game. I have had literally nothing on my mind for weeks except this man and his luscious tits and ass (derogatory). Also, I have only watched like four episodes of Animal Kingdom. Everything in here was built off five minutes of internet research and TikTok thirst edits. As always, I’m not sticking to cannon events and ideally this will take place between s1-s2, if there are inaccuracies or anyone seems OOC please forgive me as this is just self-indulgent brain rot. ILY 🫶
Next Part
The Cody house didn’t throw parties. It spilled them.
Music bled through the walls, bass heavy enough to rattle your ribs, the kind that settled into your bones and stayed there. The backyard blurred into bodies and movement, cheap beer sloshing over red cups, wet footprints tracking in from the pool and streaking across tile. Someone was shouting over the music, someone else laughing too loud, and somewhere—always—glass had already broken.
You’d learned quickly that noise like this was cover. For what, exactly, you didn’t ask. That was the rule you were most happy to follow.
Deran reached for you without looking, his hand finding your waist like muscle memory.
You went easily. That was part of it too.
His arm slid around you, pulling you into his side with practiced ease, like you had always fit there. Your hand came up automatically, fingers hooking into the back of his tank, your thumb brushing warm skin. It was familiar, rehearsed, close enough to look real without ever crossing into something it wasn’t.
“Relax,” you murmured, leaning in as if you were about to kiss his jaw, your lips ghosting just shy of his skin. “You’re gonna give me bruises, asshole.”
“Don’t complain,” he shot back, voice low, grip not loosening in the slightest.
You smiled anyway, soft and easy, the kind of smile that sold the illusion without effort. Anyone watching would’ve bought it.
They always did.
And the truth was—you liked Deran. That made everything easier.
He was sharp at the edges, rough in places most people didn’t bother to look past, but he was your friend. Probably your best friend. Your co-conspirator in something that lived in the gray space between truth and performance.
What the two of you had wasn’t complicated, not really.
It was a deal. A cover. A carefully maintained version of something that looked real enough to keep his mother and brothers off his back without ever actually becoming real.
A relationship built on understanding, on boundaries, on the quiet agreement.
It also helped that you didn’t ask questions. Not about the jobs. Not about the sudden disappearances, the stacks of cash, the tension that sometimes rolled through the house like a storm warning before vanishing just as quickly as it came.
You knew enough to understand it wasn’t clean. And you knew enough to stay out of it. That was part of the arrangement too.
Deran helped you with rent, with clothes, with your car when it broke down, with whatever you needed, really. And in return, you played your part. You showed up. You stood close. You touched each other just enough. Covered when he was with Adrian. Worked the bar when he needed a break. You sold the story.
You pretended to be his girlfriend at gatherings. You helped patched him or his brothers up at odd hours of the night. And if you saw something you weren’t supposed to—No, you didn’t.
It was simple. It was easy. It was, honestly, the easiest job you’d ever had.
His jaw ticked. “Pope’s out.”
The name landed heavier than the bass vibrating through the walls.
You’d heard it before—in passing, in lowered voices, in the way Craig got louder when it came up and Baz got quieter. You’d never met him, but you understood the outline of him. The weight of him.
“Okay,” you said simply, because there wasn’t really anything else to say.
You grabbed two beers from a cooler and pressed one into Deran’s hand. He squeezed your hip in return, his thumb dragging in a way that would read as possessive to anyone watching.
It wasn’t. But it looked like it was and That was enough.
Then the energy shifted. Subtle, almost invisible—but real. You felt it before you saw him. Conversations didn’t stop, but they tilted. People moved without realizing they were making space, bodies adjusting around something that had just entered the orbit.
“Don’t stare,” Deran muttered. “He’s fucking bat shit.”
So of course—You did.
He stood near the sliding door, half in shadow, like he hadn’t decided if he was inside or out. Broad. Still. Watching. Not scanning the party, not taking it in like everyone else.
He was watching people like he was measuring them. Your stomach tightened, not fear exactly, but something sharper. Stranger.
“That’s him?” you asked under your breath.
Deran didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
You took a sip of your beer just to give yourself something to do with your hands, and then—Like a string pulled too tight—His gaze found you.
It wasn’t curiosity. It wasn’t interest. It was recognition. Which didn’t make any sense.
Your body reacted before your brain could catch up. You shifted closer to Deran, your thigh pressing fully against his, your arm sliding around his middle—not just for the show this time.
Something about the way Pope looked at you made you want something solid. Something grounding.
Deran’s hand came up automatically, cupping the back of your neck protectively.
Pope noticed.
You saw it not in some dramatic reaction, but in the smallest shift—his shoulders tightening, his jaw setting just a fraction harder.
“Yeah,” Deran said quietly against your ear. “That’s him.”
Pope started moving then, not toward you exactly, just through the party, but his path bent in a way that made it feel inevitable.
You didn’t move. You didn’t know why but you felt anchored to that spot. Most people seemed to adjust around him. You could feel it.
By the time he got close, the air felt thinner. Or maybe that was just you.
Deran’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. “Pope.”
Up close and his presence was worse.
There was something contained about him, like everything inside was packed too tight, held together by something you couldn’t see. His eyes flicked briefly to where Deran’s hand rested on your neck, then back to your face.
“This her?” he asked.
Not to you. About you. You could’ve let Deran answer. That would’ve been easier.
Instead, you tilted your head slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. “I have a name.”
Something shifted in his expression—not softer, not warmer. Just… aware.
“What is it?” he asked. Voice like gravel.
You told him.
And for a second—just a second—it felt like the rest of the party fell away, like it was just the two of you and something unspoken sitting heavy between you.
Deran’s thumb pressed harder into your neck. A reminder. A warning.
Pope noticed that too.
“Right,” he said after a moment.
But he didn’t look away. Not right away. And when he finally did, it felt like something had been pulled from you.
Across the yard, Pope had stopped moving. Not looking at you anymore—but not not looking either, like he was trying very hard to put something back where it belonged.
And you had the distinct, unsettling feeling that you had just become a problem.
_____
Deran’s bar was loud until it wasn’t. That was always how it went.
One minute it was full—music, voices, glass clinking, bodies moving—and the next it emptied out in waves until all that was left was the echo of it. Sticky floors. Half-finished drinks. The hum of the lights overhead.
You were behind the counter, moving on autopilot. Wiping down surfaces, stacking glasses, counting bottles.
The door had swung open. Craig’s voice came first, loud and already half gone. Baz followed, easier, smoother. And then—Him. Pope. The Quieter Heavier force of the Cody’s.
A couple rounds turned into a few more. Laughter got louder. Craig told the same story twice. Baz leaned across the bar like he owned it.
Pope sat and Watched. He Drank slower than the rest. You caught his eyes once. Just once.
That was enough.
“Deran around?” Craig called out eventually.
You shook your head, grabbing another glass. “Nope. Not tonight.”
“Figures,” he muttered, already reaching for another beer.
Baz smirked. “Busy?”
You shrugged. “Something like that.”
You didn’t say Adrian. You never said Adrian. That was part of the job too, Keeping Derans business his business.
By the time last call rolled around, Craig was loud enough to get thrown out of his own brothers bar and Baz was halfway through a story you’d stopped following ten minutes ago.
Pope hadn’t moved or said much. Just sat there Watching and Listening like he was still catching up from being behind bars for the last 3 years.
“Alright,” you said finally, clapping your hands lightly against the bar. “Out.”
Craig groaned. “C’mon—”
“Out,” you repeated, pointing toward the door.
Baz laughed, sliding off his stool. “She means it.”
Craig dragged himself up with exaggerated suffering. “You’re mean, you know that?”
“Yeah,” you shot back. “Tragic.”
They filtered out slowly, still talking, still loud, still lingering like they didn’t want the night to end.
Pope didn’t make a move to follow.
You quirked a brow at him, trying to keep your tone light. “Heading home, Pope?”
Baz and Craig stalled at the door, both of them glancing back, waiting for him to fall in step like he always did.
He didn’t.
“I’ll stay,” he said instead, voice even. “Make sure you get home okay.”
Both Baz and Craig looked at you then. Not at him. At you. Waiting. For what, you weren’t entirely sure—approval, maybe. A read. A reaction.
And that was when the unease crept in.
Slow. Quiet. Hard to ignore.
You’d heard the stories.
From Craig, usually, loud and half-laughing, like violence was something that could be shrugged off if you said it casual enough. From Deran too, though his were different—shorter, sharper, more careful.
Unstable. Unpredictable. Violent. The kind of man who didn’t need a reason.
You swallowed, forcing your expression to stay neutral, easy. You didn’t want to insult him. Didn’t want to make this into something it didn’t need to be.
Didn’t want to add fuel to whatever already simmered just beneath the surface of this family. So you nodded once toward Baz and Craig. It was enough and They took it.
“Don’t burn the place down,” Craig tossed over his shoulder as they stepped out.
Baz lingered a second longer, his eyes flicking between you and Pope, something unreadable passing through his expression before he followed.
The door shut behind them.
It was quiet. Not empty. Just quieter in a way that made everything else feel louder. Your own breathing. The hum of the lights.
Him.
You exhaled slowly, turning back to the bar. “You don’t have to stay,” you said, keeping your voice steady, casual. “I’ve closed by myself before.”
“I know.”
You paused for half a second Then kept moving.
“If you’re gonna stick around,” you added, glancing over your shoulder just briefly, “you can start with putting the bar stools up.”
A beat. Then the scrape of wood against the floor as he moved. Quiet. Efficient. Controlled.
You focused on the bar, wiping down a surface that was already clean, listening without meaning to.
The weight of his steps. The absence of wasted motion. Not wild. Not erratic. Not anything like the stories. That unsettled you more.
Silence stretched between you. Not the comfortable kind. You worked in parallel—you behind the bar, him moving through the space with slow precision, wiping spots with a bar towel occasionally, looking around the place like he was memorizing it.
Or maybe memorizing you in it.
“You been here long?” he asked after a minute.
Your hands slowed slightly. “A while.”
“How long is a while?”
You glanced up then.
He was already looking at you.
“Three years,” you said.
He nodded once, like he was filing it away.
“You meet him here?”
Your stomach tightened.
Deran.
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“Surfing,” you said, keeping your tone easy.
A pause.
“How long you been together?”
There it was.
You kept your hands moving. “Almost two years now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
“So it’s serious?”
Your grip tightened slightly around the glass in your hand.
“Why?” you asked, glancing up at him.
His expression didn’t change.
“Just asking. You two seem close.”
It wasn’t just asking. You could feel it.
“Depends what you think serious is,” you said lightly.
He stepped closer. Not enough to trap but Enough that you noticed his movement, his presence somehow bigger.
Your breath caught, just slightly.
His eyes flicked to your hands then back to your face.
“You don’t touch him when you don’t have to.”
The words landed soft and precise. Your chest tightened.
“That’s not—”
“You lean in when people are looking,” he continued, like you hadn’t spoken. “You don’t when you think they’re not.”
Your pulse started to climb.
“You’re watching me now,” you said, quieter.
“I’ve been watching you,” he said.
Not threatening. Not defensive. Just true. Like he had been susing you out. Determining if you were worthy of Cody trust.
Silence stretched between you.
His gaze dropped to your mouth. Just for a second. But it was Enough.
“You missed a spot,” you said, nodding toward a table behind him, desperate to break whatever pull he had on you. The charge of him hummed at your fingertips just from standing this close, his gaze pinning you in place, leaving you caught somewhere between squirming away and leaning in for more.
The shift was immediate. Subtle—but real. His eyes flicked away from you, landing on the table. And stilled. Not casual. Not dismissive.
Fixed.
You watched it happen—the way his focus locked in, the way something in him tightened, sharpened, like a thread pulled taut. A beat passed. Then another.
His jaw flexed.
Like he was trying to decide which thing to follow—The thought. Or the impulse. He looked back at you.
And for a second Something broke through.
“Why are you—” he started.
Stopped.
His brow pulled tight, like the question had come out wrong, like it wasn’t the one he meant to ask.
Like there was a different one underneath it.
Your breath caught.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking it off, dragging his attention back to the table like he needed somewhere to put it. Something he could fix. Something he could control.
He turned moving toward it, rag in hand, wiping the same place twice. Then again. Slower the third time. Careful. Deliberate. Like if he got it right, it would settle something else.
Behind him, you didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, pulse still climbing, something tight in your chest you didn’t have a name for.
Because whatever he almost said Wasn’t about Deran. And the fact that he didn’t finish it? Somehow felt worse.
Pairing: Cody Brothers x reader (Pope, Baz, Craig, Deran) ft. Smurf.
Warnings: angst. severe injuries, gunfight aftermath, panic, crying, medical trauma, blood, gore, amateur surgery, internal bleeding,
Summary: When a heist goes violently sideways, a stray shotgun blast leaves you fighting for your life with a punctured lung.
>
The job was supposed to be a clean. But the universe doesn't do clean for the Codys.
A stray guard with a shotgun turned the getaway into a bloodbath and you were the one who took the hit.
Now, you were lying across the leather backseat of Craig’s truck, your head resting heavily in Pope’s lap.
He sat rigid. His hand was pressed firmly against the jagged tear in your ribs, dark blood spilling over his knuckles.
He was staring at your face.
And he saw it.
A thin line of crimson began to pool at the corner of your lips, slipping over your chin and tracking a messy path down your neck.
It wasn't just a graze on your ribs.
Something inside was broken.
Something shifted in Pope’s eyes.
"Craig, I need you to go faster," Pope's voice vibrated with intensity.
"I'm going as fast as I can, man!" Craig yelled. "The cops are all over the highway, I gotta take the back roads—"
"Craig." This time, Pope’s voice cracked. "Please."
Baz glanced back from the front passenger seat, his eyes widening as his gaze landed on the blood smeared across your mouth. "Oh, shit, shit, Craig, man, c'mon."
Pope took the hem of his own shirt, his hands shaking, actually shaking, as he gently wiped the blood from your lips. But the moment he wiped it away, more welled up, bright and warm.
"H-Hey," Pope murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate tone. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your cold skin. "Princess. Look at me. Open your eyes. Look at Pope."
Your eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead. The pain in your chest was a crushing weight, making it impossible to draw air. You choked in a wet cough, and more blood spilled past your teeth.
"Don't do that," Pope unblinking eyes were suddenly glossy, swimming with panic. He clamped his hand over yours, squeezing until it hurt. "You breathe. You stay. You hear me?"
Beside Pope, Deran was on the phone with Smurf, telling her to have the medical kit ready. He turned and his face losing all its color as he saw you. "Is she suffocating? Baz, what do we do?!"
"Keep her head up!" Baz ordered. "Don't let her choke on it! Craig, if you don't get us to Smurf's house in two minutes, you're fucking dead! "
"I'm hitting a hundred and ten, man!" Craig screamed.
Pope slid his arm beneath your shoulders, carefully pulling your upper body up against his chest. He didn't care about the stains covering his clothes. He just gathered you into his arms, holding you like you were made of glass.
"I've got you," he muttered frantically against your hair, as he felt your body grow heavier. His grip so tight it was almost suffocating. "I've got you, princess. Don't leave me here."
You couldn't form words, but you managed to squeeze his fingers. Pope let out a ragged, shaking breath as the truck finally violently whipped into Smurf’s driveway.
Pope didn’t wait. He kicked the door open, his arms securely wrapped around your shaking form. He carried you inside.
Smurf was already coming down the hall, her sharp eyes taking in the scene instantly. Her gaze drifted from the blood on your ribs to the terrifying crimson smear coating your mouth and chin.
Her maternal composure didn't break, but her jaw tightened.
"Pu-Put her on the island," Smurf commanded, her voice cutting through the panic like ice. "Deran, lock the gates. Craig, get the oxygen tank from the garage... now."
Pope laid you down on the cold kitchen island, but he refused to step back. His hands stayed glued to your shoulders, keeping you elevated just enough so you wouldn't choke.
"She's bleeding from the inside, Smurf," Baz said. "The shot may fractured a rib. It might have punctured a lung."
"I know," Smurf said calmly, though her fingers moved with frantic speed as she hooked up the portable oxygen mask Craig had just slammed onto the counter.
She pressed the plastic mask over your nose and mouth. "Breathe, sweetheart. Deep breaths for Smurf."
The oxygen helped, but the pain was agonizing. You let out a choked gasp, coughing violently. The mask immediately fogged with a fresh spray of blood.
Deran looked like he was going to vomit.
"Get the chest tube," Baz muttered to Smurf, his hands shaking slightly as he prepped an alcohol swab. "If her lung is collapsing, we have to relieve the pressure or she’s gone."
"No," Craig choked out, backing away a step, his eyes wide as he looked at the surgical instruments. "No, we need a doctor. We need to take her to a real hospital, Smurf! Look at her, she’s drowning!"
"We take her to a hospital, the cops pick us up before she’s even out of triage!" Baz snapped, his adrenaline turning into pure aggression. "Think, Craig!"
"I don't give a shit about the cops!" Craig screamed, slamming his fist into the refrigerator. "She's dying!"
"Shut up!" Pope’s scream vibrated through the entire kitchen.
The room went dead silent. Craig froze. Pope was leaning over you. He was entirely focused on your fading gaze.
"Hold her down," Pope whispered.
Baz moved instantly, pinning your arms. Deran stepped forward and heavily secured your legs.
Smurf didn't hesitate. She located the space between your ribs, wiped it with iodine, and looked up at Pope. "Keep her still, baby."
Pope leaned his weight over your upper body, his face inches from yours. "It’s going to hurt," he whispered. "It’s going to hurt so bad, princess. But we have you, okay?"
When Smurf made the incision to insert the tube, an agonizing scream was choked out of your throat.
Your body violently arched, fighting against the restraint, but the Cody brothers became a human vice.
Deran was using his strength to keep your lower body pinned.
Baz leaned his weight into your side, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked furiously in his cheek.
Pope kept his forehead pressed against yours, taking the brunt of your agony, letting you squeeze his hand until the bones clicked. "Breathe," he chanted like a prayer, his voice breaking over and over. "Come on. Breathe."
A sharp hiss of escaping air and a rush of dark blood into the drainage tube signaled the release of the pressure.
Your chest suddenly expanded, a clean draft of oxygen finally rushing into your lungs. And the violent trembling in your limbs slowly began to subside.
_
An hour later, the kitchen was a bloody battlefield. Smurf had cleaned you up, stitched the outer wound, and helped the boys move you to the massive couch in the living room, the oxygen tank humming quietly beside you.
The house was on complete lockdown.
Baz was out, staring into the dark pool, his shoulders slumped under the weight of the night. Craig and Deran were sitting on the floor right beside the couch, exhausted and pale, refusing to leave your side.
And Andrew hadn't moved an inch.
He sat on the floor, his hand resting gently on top of your hair. Every time your breathing hitched, his entire body went rigid, relaxing only when your chest rose and fell in a steady, healing rhythm.
You weakly opened your eyes, the haze of the painkillers making everything soft.
You looked at him.
Andrew’s face was still stained with your blood, his eyes shadowed and tired. He carefully took his thumb and wiped away a dried speck of crimson from the corner of your lip.
"You're safe," he whispered. "A doctor is coming, you're going to be okay."
You managed a weak smile, your hand moving slowly across the blanket to find his.
Andrew didn't hesitate. He took your hand in his, wrapping his fingers between yours. He pressed your knuckles firmly against his cheek, leaning into your skin, his eyes closing for a moment as if he were finally letting out the breath he’d been holding since the backseat of the truck.
He stayed like that, just feeling your pulse against his face.
Then, he rested his forearm right next to your pillow. He leaned his head down on his arm, his face just inches from yours, his eyes fixed on your face with protective devotion.
He didn't have the words to tell you how close he came to breaking, or how much it meant that you were still breathing.
But as his thumb began a slow stroke across the back of your hand, you knew. He wasn't going anywhere.
So this fic started as inspired by Hardy’s song “Wait in the truck” and it spiralled.
Summary: After Pope saves you from your abusive ex you end up living with the Cody’s and become entwined in their world.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sexual content, drug use, alcohol consumption, soft dom pope if you squint, brief religion mentions, feminine reader with blonde hair briefly mentioned, physical violence, physical and verbal abuse, canon Smurf behaviour (I will apologize in advance if I missed anything I am new to this)
Notes: Ok so hear me out I have never ever done this before so bear with me (Like literally a tumblr lurker never a tumblr poster) but I have been working on this for quite some time and I wanna see if it’s worth me to keep going with it. So this my first written out fic I am out here on the Shawn Hatosy train with the rest of you thirsty bitches ❤️ please leave me some love in the comments it’s been a long time since I’ve written and I’m rusty so please be kind and let me know if you want the next part.
Word count: 3.6K
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You swore you would never be like her. Your mother. You couldn’t believe how far you had fallen as you limped down the road in the rain.
He always swore it was the last time. “I’m sorry, baby,” he would say, “I didn’t mean it, baby. I love you.” You kept believing him over and over again.
Tonight was the last straw. He had dragged you from one end of the house to the other. Telling you how worthless you were, how you were nothing but a whore like your mother. You had managed to grab a frying pan from the kitchen and swing it as hard as you could. Surprising yourself when you made contact and he went down. You sat and stared at his limp form on the ground.
And then you ran.
You ran out of the house. You ran down the driveway. You kept running until you couldn’t breathe.
That’s how you found yourself here now. Wandering down the street in the pouring rain. In nothing but your T-shirt and shorts, covered in bruises and blood. Your blood was roaring in your ears. You didn’t even hear the truck come up behind you until you saw the headlights lighting your path.
You whipped around, expecting to see him getting out of the truck, coming after you. Your breathing accelerated, terror running through your veins. When you saw a man step out.
The man stepped in front of the truck and stopped. He looked you up and down, taking in the bruises and the blood.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he called over the rain. “I can help you if you’ll let me.” You stared at the man like a deer in the headlights. You decided whatever this man had in store for you couldn’t be worse than what you had come from.
You nodded at the man meekly. He took a deep, relieved breath. “OK, get in the truck,” he said, coming around to open the passenger door for you.
You climbed into the truck, shivering. You stared through the window, unseeing. You didn’t even hear him enter the cab until he offered you his jacket. You looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes.
You took him in for the first time. He had intense hazel eyes. His auburn curls damp from the rain. You looked at the arm extending the jacket to you. You could tell it was strong, his biceps tight under the T-shirt he wore.
“Take the jacket,” he said softly. “I can see you shivering.” You took the jacket and slid your arms through the sleeves. It was still warm from his body heat.
“Thank you,” you murmured quietly. You hadn’t started driving yet. You could feel his eyes on you. You glanced at him tentatively, sure you would find pity. You weren’t expecting what you saw instead: fury. Fury.
“Where is he?” The stranger asked evenly.
You decided playing dumb was the easiest answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He looked at you, his eyes darkening. “I know you didn’t do that to yourself. Tell me where he is, and I promise he’ll never hurt you again.” You looked over at him, and somehow you knew he was telling the truth. You could see the violence in his eyes, the scars on the knuckles holding the steering wheel tightly.
“132 Westpoint Drive.” You told him quietly.
He gave you one last long look and nodded, putting the truck into gear.
The truck pulled up in front of the house you had just escaped from. Your breathing became erratic, and suddenly you felt like there wasn’t enough air in the cab.
“Hey,” the stranger said quietly. “Breathe. I’m gonna take care of this.” He put his hand on yours softly. “You don’t have to worry,” he opened the glove box and pulled out a gun, tucking it into the back waistband of his jeans under his shirt.
He moved to get out of the truck, and you grabbed his arm. “Wait!” You said desperately. He paused and looked at you. “I don’t want you to kill him. He isn’t worth you going to jail.” You told him shakily.
“Don’t worry,” he told you gruffly. “I know what I’m doing. Just wait in the truck.” He slid the rest of the way out of the truck, closing the door.
You watched him stalk up to the door, tension rolling off his body. You watched as he banged on the door with his fist three times. He waited a second to see if he would answer the door. When he didn’t, you watched him kick the door in.
You gasped in shock, covering your mouth with your hands. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute; you knew what he was capable of. You didn’t want him hurting the kind stranger who rescued you.
You heard the commotion before you saw it. You saw the stranger throw him out the door into the mud. You watched the stranger repeatedly ram his fist into his face over and over again. You knew you should look away, but you couldn’t.
You watched as the stranger gave him one final kick to the ribs. He spit on his body as he walked away from him.
The stranger got back in the truck, soaking wet with bruised knuckles. He stretched his hands, rubbing his knuckles as he slowly looked over at you. “He won’t be bothering you again,” he told you roughly.
He started driving again. You watched him with wide eyes. “Who are you?” you asked him quietly
He looked over at you, startled, the realization that he never told you his name or asked for yours dawning on his face. “My name is Andrew,” he murmured. “I should have asked for yours.”
You told him your name meekly. He gave you an appraising look. “How old are you?” he asked gruffly.
“19,” you told him.
He looked over at you sharply. “What the fuck were you doing with that piece of shit?” he asked you.
You felt the tears begin to well in your eyes. “I had nowhere else to go,” you took a shaky breath. “ I have nowhere else to go.” You felt the tears start to slide down your cheeks as a sob racked your body as the events of the night finally caught up with you.
He reached over, placing an unsure hand on your knee. “Hey, don’t do that. What about your parents? Where are they?” he asked softly.
You scoff. “My mom could hardly stay sober enough to realize I exist, while her endless stream of enabling boyfriends just tried to get a two-for-one package.” You wipe the tears from your cheeks, trying to take a calming breath.
Andrew looks between you and the road, unsure of what his next move should be. He doesn’t want you to think he’s just another man trying to take advantage of you. “Look,” he says. “You can come back to my place. I live with my mom and my brothers. We can at least get you cleaned up and figure out what to do from there.”
“Are you sure?” You sniffle out. “Your family would be okay with that?”
He gives you a wary look. “The way my family works, we’re used to picking up strays. I promise they won’t mind.”
You think it over for a moment. You really have no other options, other than if you want to sleep on a park bench tonight. “Yes, please. That would be really great. Thank you.”
You see a blush rise in his cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs
~~~~
You pull up to a gated home in a nice neighbourhood. Andrew hits a button on the remote attached to his visor, and the gate in front of you swings open.
Andrew pulls up to the garage, killing the engine and hopping out of the truck. He comes around to your side and opens the door for you, offering his hand to help you out of the truck.
You take his hand shakily and slowly slide out of the truck. Wincing as the pain from the night’s events finally settles in now that the adrenaline has worn off. Your feet hit the ground, and a gasp of pain hisses through your teeth.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asks, concerned. “What hurts?”
You let out a small, humourless laugh. “Everything.”
Andrew leads you quietly to the back door. You look around in awe at your surroundings, silently wondering what his family did for a living to have a house this nice.
As you walk into the kitchen, you see four new faces, and it stops you in your tracks. Andrew lightly puts a hand on your back and directs you to sit down. He looks at the faces of his family and introduces you. You notice he doesn’t quite meet his mother’s eyes.
You quickly become uncomfortable with the stares of his family, and you realize maybe you were better off on your own. “I am really sorry for intruding in your home. I shouldn’t be here. I should go,” you say quickly, going to get up to leave.
Andrew’s mother places a hand on your shoulder, urging you to stay seated. “You will do no such thing, baby. I’m Jeanine, but you can call me Smurf. Everyone does.” She says to you softly. You look into her eyes. She affects a soft expression, but you can see the calculating look in her eyes. “You’ve already met my oldest, Pope,” she says, nodding to Andrew.
You look at him confused. “Pope? I thought your name was Andrew.”
He looks down at his shoes and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just a nickname.”
You look away, nodding silently. Smurf continues the introductions. “These boys here are his brothers, Baz, Deran, and Craig.” Each man nods at you or waves as she says their names.
“So,” the one named Baz started looking between you and Andrew, “What the hell happened?”
Andrew looked at you, seeking permission. You looked up at him, nodding meekly. He took a deep breath and launched into the story of how he found you and the events that occurred afterwards.
You felt everyone’s eyes on you as he told the story. You kept your knees tucked to your chest, with your chin resting on them. You could see their eyes ranging from pity to anger as Andrew continued talking.
As he finished the story you felt Smurfs hand on your knee, she looked at you with kindness. “I am so sorry that happened to you baby. How about you go and take a shower, get cleaned up we’ll get you some clothes and then we’ll take care of your injuries.” She looked up at her sons. “Go find the first aid kit while she showers” she looks back at you. “Are you hungry? I will make you something to eat.”
You looked at her feeling the tears pricking your eyes. “Thank you” you say in a wobbly voice.
You see Andrew push away from the wall he was leaning on. “C’mon I’ll show you where you can shower and I’ll find you some dry clothes.” You nod following him.
You follow Andrew into a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. He looks at you somewhat awkwardly “This is my room, you can shower in there and I will leave you some clothes on the bed” he stands at the doorway unsure of whether to leave you alone or not.
“Thank you Andrew” you say to him sincerely “you and and your family don’t have to do any of this for me” you look down at your feet and then back at him and before thinking too hard about it you wrap your arms around his waist in a tight hug pressing your face into his chest.
Andrew isn’t entirely sure how to react. He normally doesn’t like people touching him. He freezes for a moment and then slowly wraps his arms around you. “You don’t have to keep thanking me” he murmurs stepping out of your arms. You can see the blush coating his cheeks his eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Take a shower then I’ll look after your cuts and stuff.” He says gruffly walking out of the room.
You smile to yourself as you walk into the bathroom gingerly peeling off your wet clothes. You stand under the spray for a while replaying the nights events and this time you let the tears come.
As you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself you can see Smurf standing in the bedroom. She smiles at you. “I have some clothes here for you, go ahead and get dressed and then join us in the kitchen I made you some dinner.” She says placing the clothes on the bed.
“Thank you Smurf, really and truly you’re being so kind and I don’t deserve it” you tell her your voice cracking.
She runs her hands through the ends of your wet hair. “Andrew doesn’t stop for strangers” she says ambiguously. “If he decided you’re worth stopping for then there’s a reason” You watch as she leaves the room. What did she mean by that?
You walk out into the kitchen, Andrew is sitting at the table waiting for you with the first aid kit. He looks up at you taking in the sight of you in the sleep shorts and t-shirt Smurf lent you. “You look better” he murmurs.
You give him a small smile. “I feel a little better.” You say taking the chair next to him.
He pushes a plate in front of you. “Smurf made you some food” He says as he begins unpacking the first aid kit. “You can eat while I work on your leg” he leans down to grab your leg and pauses and looks up at you “is it ok-“
You nod “yes it’s fine.”
He nods sagely and gently lifts your leg into his lap. You watch his careful hands as they apply antiseptic to your cuts and covers them with bandages. “You seem to have a lot of experience doing this” you tell him softly.
His fingers pause slightly. “I patch up my brothers a lot.” He says without meeting your eyes. “When you live like we do you get used to a lot of blood” he continues his administrations his finger deftly moving over your skin.
“And how exactly do you and your brothers live?” You ask him cautiously.
He drops your leg from his lap gingerly. “Don’t worry about it.” He tells you in a way that says the conversation is over.
He moves his chair closer to yours putting antiseptic on a cotton ball and dabbing your lip gently. You hiss in pain and pull away slightly. “Sorry” he mutters gruffly.
“It’s ok” you whisper trying to hold still. You let him finish patching you up watching his eyes as they look you over. You can tell by looking at his eyes that his soul is older than he looks and infinitely more sad.
He catches you looking at him moving back abruptly clearing his throat. “I’ll show you the guest bedroom you can sleep there” he says standing up.
“Wait-“ you say quickly. “Thank you for everything but it’s ok I can find somewhere else to go”
“Nonsense” you jump as Smurf comes up quietly from behind you. “You can stay here as long as you need.” She says smoothly “isn’t that right Andrew?”
He gives her a look that you can’t quite read. “ course “ he says gruffly. Not meeting her eyes and shuffling away. “C’mon I’ll show you the room” he says as he walks away.
You get up and follow him down the hall. He opens the door to the room and you can see it’s been made up already and looks quite comfortable. “You guys have guests a lot?” You ask timidly.
He scuffs his feet on the floor eyes down cast. “Sometimes” he mutters.
“Andrew-“ you start. “I don’t have to stay if it makes you uncomfortable, I can go” you ramble.
He looks up at you quickly shock painted across his features “you don’t make me uncomfortable” he states clearly. “I want you to stay, just-“ he pauses “Just be careful around Smurf”
You look at him your brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”
He looks at you sadly “You’ll see” he turns to leave “Good night”
“Wait!” You blurt out. Rushing up to his side and quickly pecking a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for everything, I really mean it no one is ever this nice to me”
He looks away awkwardly pink tinging the tips of his ears “Stop thanking me” and then he walks away leaving you to get comfortable and finally crash into a dreamless sleep.
~~~~~~~~
That’s how you ended up living with the Cody’s. And how you’re still there 4 years later. You kept telling Smurf you would get a job and find your own place and she would just keep saying to you in that sickly sweet way of hers “Baby you don’t have to go anywhere you’re one of us now”
You hadn’t realized at the time what that actually meant. It didn’t take you long to figure out the kind of life that the Cody’s lived. Eventually you even started helping on jobs. You were young, blonde and pretty. You made a good lookout and distraction which had earned you the nickname “Scout”
You and Pope had gotten the closest out of the 4 brothers. He was your person. Your best friend. The two of you could practically read each other’s minds.
You were also madly in love with him. Not that you would tell him that. You knew that he knew and you also suspected he felt the same way. But the two of you never crossed that line. He knew that if he did Smurf would do everything in her power to ruin it.
Regardless the two of you were attached at the hip. That particular day you sat next to him as they discussed the newest job. They were planning to rob a bank.
“Scout goes in first. Distracts the first guard long enough for Pope to slip in undetected.” Baz was saying.
Pope looks at you deadly serious “The second I am inside and in position you get the fuck out and you don’t look back” you give him a bored look “Scout I’m serious or you’re not fucking coming” he says in a low voice.
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Ok the second you are in place I am out the door ok?” You say in a soothing voice. You know how protective he is of you and you love him for it. Though sometimes you wished he trusted you more with jobs.
You watched him visibly relax and Baz hops out of his chair rubbing his hands together. “Alright people let’s go have some fun” he says with a dangerous glint in his eye.
You walk into the bank in your cutest sundress with your blonde hair curling around your shoulders. You lift your sunglasses to the top of your head approaching the guard. “Excuse me sir?” You call to him in a saccharine sweet voice. He glances over at you and you watch as his eyes travel up and down your body and a slow smile creeps across his face. Gotcha. You think to yourself. “I think I took a wrong turn somewhere do you think you could help me?” You ask him with big doe eyes.
“Of course Miss” he says as if he’s the most chivalrous man on earth. You pretend to listen as he gives you directions to somewhere you have no intention of going. Out of the corner of your eye you see Pope slip in. You wait until he is position and then thank the guard and make for the exit.
You are waiting across the street in your car when you get a text from Baz “911 go back to Smurfs NOW” you look around and you can see the police cars screaming down the street. You curse lowly to yourself and start driving.
You get back to Smurfs first bursting through the door surprising Smurf. She looks at you with wide eyes “what happened?” She snaps.
You stutter “I don’t-I don’t know Baz just told me to come back here but there were cops everywhere” your breathing is erratic and you try to take deep breaths to calm down you shoulders heaving.
Smurfs eyes flash “were you followed?” She asks harshly.
“No” you say shaking your head quickly “no I took the long way there was no one tailing me”
You watch as Smurf takes a deep calming breath “Ok so we wait for the boys to get back and we find out what happened” she says sitting at the kitchen table.
You are unable to sit choosing to pace outside by the pool instead when you hear the garage open. You run into the garage and watch only 3 of the brothers get out of the truck. Your eyes widen “where’s Pope?” None of them will meet your eyes. You look at Baz and ask louder “Baz where the fuck is Pope?”
Baz’s shoulders droop “I am so sorry Scout. He got picked up” he looks at you devastation on his face.
You feel the tears fill your eyes as you launch yourself at him fists flying “How could you leave him there!” You scream punching his chest.
Baz stands there letting you hit him over and over again when you feel arms wrap around you from behind holding you back. “Scout,” you hear Deran say “Scout this isn’t gonna help get him out or fix this, please you have to calm down” he turns you around burying your face in his chest as you scream and cry.
Pope. Your Pope. Sentenced to 6 years in Folsom Prison.
introduction: What happens when you build a life saving people but the family you came from only knows how to destroy things? An exhausted ER resident counting down the minutes to handoff. A fiancé who knows exactly how to steady her.
warnings: fluff/soft Jack, family issues, reader just being smurf child, medical inaccuracy, small injuries, brief mention of death, established relationship, reader just hating on Baz bc he is such an ass
It was almost handoff time, and you couldn’t be more happier about it. It has been a rough shift and your mind seemed to be elsewhere the hole night
You couldn’t help but think about your family, not exactly all of them, but the most important
Your brothers
“Hey, everything alright?” Jack move his hand til’ it land in your low back
“Yeah, just tired” you smile at him and can’t help at the thought of how good he looks that night, the cargo pants and that black t-shirt was not doing healthy things to your rotten mind
He can’t help the smirk that starts growing in his lips, noticing what his little dirty fiancée was thinking about
“You’re doing that look again” he said with a grin
The heat spread on your face and down on your lower belly because of his voice tone, you were sure that you were going to melt on the ER’s floor in less than thirty seconds
“Shut up” the embarrassment in your voice made Jack laugh hard
“Hey lovebirds, we got two hours til’ you can go. Let’s work” Parker shout from trauma one beside Shen, who was peacefully drinking his Dunkin’s coffee
“I hate you Ellis” you said back to your friend with an akward smile
She laugh getting back to work as you follow her to the room, with Jack following your steps
“Hey Cody, after that, patient in south twenty is looking for you. And it seems that he came with his bodyguards” Lena says from the nurse station as you got your face frown
“ ‘Kay” you say confused
“Bodyguards huh? do you want me to join?” Jack says from behind you as his hand find it’s way to your waist
“Don’t worry old man, i’ll call you if things get odd” a soft smile ran across your face before kissing Jack’s cheek
A shaky breath came out of your mouth as you ran out from trauma one
The patient, an eighteen-year old-female, couldn’t make it
It was hard, really hard. You try to swallow the sore in your throat, but it was impossible
You couldn’t help but think about that the young girl was your nephew’s age, that that girl could’ve been him.
“Lena i’m taking the south twenty now” you say as your sad eyes looked at her
“Okay baby, you can take a break after, we got it here” she says with a soft smile
“Thanks” you say with a small nod
You get closer to the nurse station to grab a new chart to fill with your new patients info
Your feets seemed to be heavy with every step you take, every breath was like someone was pushing down to your chest, you feel how dizzy you are and how the room started to feel distant
But you couldn’t afford yourself to feel that way, you were a Cody, you weren’t weak; you couldn’t, ever
So you shook your head as you reach the door of your new patients room
But when you opened the door—
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”
“Hello sis”
This was like fucking hell
“What the hell are you doing here? this is the worse day of my entire life”
“Don’t worry, ours was when you were born, you own us this baby” Baz-the asshole-Blackwell said
“You are so disgusting” you said with a tired huff “What happend baby J?” you asked as you walk next to your nephew on the gurney
“I’m sorry auntie, but the church job was not entirely good…” he said pointing his open wound on his leg
You nod as you glanced over the rest of the grown men in the room
“Are you really that sick of the head to involve a fucking child in your sick jobs?” you asked looking at all of them
“Oh shut up” Baz snap out at you
“No Baz, you shut up, you are not even my fucking brother. So you can go and fuck yourself” the rage was from seeing your nephew hurt was consuming you
Deran, Craig and Pope were watching the scene with big eyes of surprise
You were a Cody, of course you had a bad temper, but they didn’t remember that it was this bad. Worse than theirs
“Get out of here before i do something i would probably regret” one hand covered your eyes with anger and the other pointed the door
Baz didn’t say anything, he just walked away as you wanted, slamming the door
“y/n… This was not the plan, please don’t get mad at us, we love you” Craig tried to persuade you, but you were your mothers daughter
“Yes, yes. Whatever, shut up you too, i’m mad at all of you right now, let me fix J first and then, i will scream at you as long as i want to”
“You look tired” Pope said looking at you from the place he was standing
“The last case was rough a-and…” your voice broke and the four men noticed that
Their eyes softened at your vulnerability
“Is okay, i’m more than sure that you did everything you could bug” Pope told you, he always called you that since you were a child. And because of the vague memory, your eyes started filling with tears
No one said anything, you gloved up and turn to face J’s leg to start making the procedure, that were a few stitches
The room went silent for at least five minutes while you were patching J up. When you finished, you throw your used gloves away and looked at your boys
Deran was the first to break the tense air by stepping up just to hug you
“You don’t have to play the strong part with us” he said stroking your hair as your arms wrapped his waist
You nodded even if he couldn’t see you
Craig was the next one, stepping up and lifting his hand to rest over your lower back
“We are so proud of you” Deran continue as hot tears run down your cheeks
“Hey it’s my turn” Andrew said next and the three of you laugh as you ran into his arms
If someone ever asked you who your favourite brother was, this moment could be the answer
You wrapped up into Andrews arms was your favourite place to be since you were a child
“I missed you Andy” you said when he hold your face in his hands and kissed your forehead
“You know we all miss you everyday”
“Yeah, but i’m not coming back anytime soon” your voice came strong, but not because of them. And they alredy knew it
You stepped back and looked at J before walking near him again
“Please don’t get too involve J, your mom would never want this for you”
He just nodded at you, and you knew he would do what ever he wanted, he was under Smurf claws. And also Bazes, so he had no choice
“I’ll be back in a minute”
As you walked out, the sight of Baz near the nurse station catch your eye
The motherfucker was talking to Lena, using his charming eyes that made you sick
“Hay Cody, you never told me that you had such a charming brother” the redhead say to you
“He is not my brother” your face showed how disgusted you were
Both of them went quiet, you knew it wasn’t Lena’s fault, but you hated him
“Hey hon, everything alright?” Jack appeared beside you with his hand on your waist
Your whole body softened the second you felt Jack’s hand settle on your waist.
Too much had happened in too little time, and somehow that small touch almost undid you more than everything else combined.
“Define alright,” you muttered, eyes still locked on Baz.
Jack followed your gaze, jaw tightening instantly.
Baz only smirked, leaning lazy against the nurse station like he owned the damn hospital.
“Well, well,” he drawled. “This the fiancé?”
Jack’s hand didn’t move, but you felt the shift in him immediately. Quiet. Sharp. Protective.
“Depends,” Jack said coolly. “You the problem?”
Craig, from inside the room, barked out a laugh loud enough for half the hallway to hear.
Deran groaned. “Jesus Christ.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can every man in my life stop acting like they’re in a cage match for ten minutes?”
“No promises,” Baz said.
“Shut up,” you and three of your brothers said at the same time.
Lena nearly choked trying not to laugh.
Jack glanced down at you, then back at Baz. “You bothering my nurses?”
“I was being friendly.”
“You don’t know how to do that.”
Your head snapped toward Jack.
Baz’s smirk twitched.
And somewhere behind you, Shen let out a low whistle.
“Ohhh,” Parker sang from trauma one. “Doctor Abbot got jokes tonight.”
You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so tired.
“Jack,” you said quietly, touching his wrist. “Please don’t get fired because of my family.”
“I’m not the one at risk of getting fired,” he replied, eyes still on Baz.
“That confidence is sexy but unhelpful.”
His mouth curved despite himself.
Baz pushed off the desk. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m leaving.”
“You should’ve left years ago,” you shot back.
That one landed.
His face hardened for half a second before the charming mask slid back on.
“Still got claws,” he said.
“I learned from the best.”
He looked at you a moment longer, then walked past Jack and down the hallway without another word.
The second he disappeared, you exhaled like you’d been holding your breath for years.
Jack turned you gently toward him.
“You okay?”
“No,” you answered honestly.
Something in his expression softened.
“Come here.”
You barely had time to process it before he pulled you into him, one arm around your shoulders, the other at your lower back. You folded instantly, face pressing into the warm cotton of his shirt.
The ER still moved around you, phones ringing, carts rolling, people shouting vitals, but for a moment it all sounded far away.
“You smell like antiseptic and coffee,” you mumbled.
“And you smell like stress.”
“That’s rude.”
“That’s accurate.”
You felt the laugh leave you before you could stop it.
His hand moved slowly up and down your back. “You wanna tell me what happened in there?”
“My family happened.”
“That explains the emotional damage.”
You snorted against his chest.
Then quieter—
“A girl died in trauma one.”
His hand stilled.
You swallowed hard. “She was eighteen.”
Jack didn’t fill the silence with anything empty. He just held you tighter.
“That never gets easier,” he said finally.
“I know.”
“You still showed up for the next patient.”
“My nephew.”
“Still counts.”
You closed your eyes.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m two different people,” you admitted. “The one who got out… and the one who never really did.”
Jack tipped your chin up until you had to look at him.
“You’re one person,” he said. “Who fought like hell to build something better.”
The tears hit too fast to stop.
“Oh, great,” you muttered. “Now I’m crying in front of the hot older doctor.”
“I’m always the hot older doctor.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet you’re obsessed with me.”
Before you could answer, Craig stuck his head out of room twenty.
“Are you two making out or can we get discharge papers?”
You wiped under your eyes. “I’m revoking your pain meds.”
“Worth it,” he said, disappearing back inside.
Jack grinned.
You stared at him for a second, tired to your bones and somehow lighter than you’d been all night.
Then you grabbed the front of his black shirt and kissed him hard enough to shut him up.
A chorus of shouts exploded from down the hall.
“ABOUT TIME!”
“Gross!”
“Get a room!”
Shen yelled, “Ten bucks says Abbot blushes!”
Jack kissed you once more, slower this time, then rested his forehead to yours.
summary: Pope wondered if she was an angel sent down to relieve him of his suffering, even if he didn't deserve it. It was the only explanation for the woman who appeared when he needed her most. Unknowingly, he dragged an angel into the dark with no plan on how to get her out on the other side. All Pope knew was, she had to survive. One way or another, she had to survive. Whatever the cost.
Amina was never supposed to fall head first into another life of chaos. She was never supposed to get involved. Never supposed to fall in love. Now, she'd do anything to make sure she wasn't alone when she came out the other side.
cw: MDNI 18+ (not super explicit, more waxing poetic, but I don't want minors interacting with my stories regardless), suicide ideation/thoughts, canon-typical violence & gore & manipulation (i mean, this is AK after all), canon-divergence, domestic violence, slow-ish burn, hurt & comfort, angst, trauma, ptsd, ocd, neurodivergent!pope (no one can convince me otherwise), protective!pope, obsessive!pope, season two!pope, sensitive!oc, bamf!oc, forger!oc, age difference (late twenties oc), original female character, entire cody clan, chosen family trope, third person POV, more tags added per chapter, eventual smut
a/n: This is my first time writing Andrew/Animal Kingdom, but also my first fic on tumblr. I've been over on archiveofourown, but I thought it would be fun to actually try posting on here. I've been unable to get this man out of my head and I'm incapable of writing a one shot, so here we are. This story starts during 2x12 and will diverge from there. If you want to be tagged when I upload the first chapter, please let me know!
♡ Any comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated. ♡
chapters (in progress)
prologue - imitation, caricature, & good business (i)
craig cody and his childhood best friend / never-ending situationship
(this is 4 u my wonderful melly love u girl @scrmqwn)
Craig Cody isn’t the smartest man in the world, but when he’s with her, his best friend since the second grade, he seems to get a whole lot dumber — they collectively seem to get a lot dumber. And they’re together a lot.
They probably haven’t gone three days without seeing each other since the first time she came over. Her mom brought some new guy to the house and told her to go play outside; Craig had been running from his brothers after pulling some stupid stunt and found her laying in the grass, plucking at strands.
Confused, he called her name in between pants while he stomped up her yard.
“Oh, hey, Craig.” She’d looked over, watching him plop down in the grass next to her. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“I live that way,” He pointed down the street, like that explained why he was in her yard. “Whatcha doin?” He asked, moving his hand back and forth in the grass while she flipped over to lay on her tummy.
“My mom told me to come play outside, but nobody wanted to play with me.” The other parents on the street were aware enough of her mother’s habits to not want anything to do with the small family.
“Oh. That’s stupid.”
She nodded in agreement against the arms folded under her head.
“You can always come play with me.” Craig shrugged.
“Really?”
“Yeah!” He grinned, and the hair he wouldn’t let his mother cut even then moved along with his nodding head. “C’mon, we can go swimming and my mom got popsicles.”
They clambered up from the grass together, running off to Craig’s house full of giggles. That had been halfway through third grade, around two decades ago.
She’s basically part of the family now, Smurf always makes sure there’s enough dinner for her. The older woman loves her dearly, unlike the rest of the relationships she has with her sons…womanly counterparts. She just worries about those two, sometimes, with the conversations she’s overheard throughout the years. It was worse in their teen years.
“How does that even work?” She’d heard Craig ask as she passed by his room with a basket full of clean laundry. Smurf paused, looking in the small crack left between the door and its frame to find the two starfished out across his bed with confusion written all over their faces. Closed doors wasn’t much of a thing in the Cody house, privacy wasn’t ever a concern.
“What do you mean, dude, like, the fishes?”
“Yeah, why don’t they all freeze and die when stuff gets all icy? How do fishes still exist?”
They go quiet, and Smurf watches the girl try to think up an answer with wide eyes and furrowed brows. After a minute, she shakes her head.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“…fish magic.”
They burst out giggling, and Smurf has to close her eyes and walk away to stop the sigh that wants to leave her mouth. Fishes — fucking fish magic. Dumbasses.
J meets her the first day he spends at Smurfs. While the boys jump around the pool she’s laying in a lounge chair with a football in her hands.
“Go!” She shouts to Craig from where he stands on the diving board.
“Gimme a minute-“ He pleads, taking in gulps of air.
“No, go, dude!”
With a groan, he starts to run off the diving board. Clearly not fast enough for her, because she pelts him in the stomach with the football.
He drops into the water with a moan while she cackles, resurfacing to throw the ball back at her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” She tries while watching him climb from the pool with a gleam of trouble in his eyes. The giggles in between sorries doesn’t make it seem very true.
“Yeah, you better be,” He grins when she stumbles from the lounge chair and starts running around the pool.
“No, no, no,” She dashes around Deran, when suddenly Smurf storms into the backyard with a boy by her side.
“My cupcakes are ruined!”
Unaware of his surroundings (as usual), Craig manages to grab ahold of her from behind, pulling her into his chest and off the ground.
“You remember your uncles, J, don’t you?” Smurf asks the young boy. It stops Craig from hauling her back into the pool. They pay no attention to the rest of the conversation while he let’s her back down and he stuffs her under his arm. Smurf says her name, so she throws J a wave and a grin as she wraps her arm around Craigs waist. “This is Craigs…good friend.”
Before they can stop themselves, she’s wrestling for the football in his hand. He’s too strong though, like every other time they do this, and soon she’s hauled back up into the air and he’s making a running jump into the pool.
“Sorry,” Baz tells only the new boy, because everybody else is used to them. “They don’t know how to behave.”
I’m going to make a fluffy little collection of dabbles centering around reader being neighbors with the Cody’s and the cute childhood crush that follows.
Nextdoor neighbor series
Fluff ☆ no TW. Pt 2
My brain is too small to figure out the age gaps between all the Cody kids so ages are vague.
Andrew Pope Cody who likes you the second he meets you. You’re both just kids at the time. He’s got his hands shoved in his pockets. Trailing after Baz and Julia who are lost in their own little world. Craig is somewhere running around yelling about how cool this new house is. Smurf’s heels click across the tile she adjusts her hold on Deran’s hand as he anxiously looks around. Pope can tell he wants to run off and join Craig but the idea of being in a new place has put him on edge.
Pope hates this. Hates that they’re moving again. Hates that Smurf is acting like nothing is wrong when it’s so clear that everything is going to shit. Julia’s laugh catches his attention causing his head to turn. The pit in his stomach grows as he sees Baz pulling away from her. He immediately looks for Smurf and lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes she’s in the house somewhere. A whispered secret shared between his twin and the boy he’s supposed to call his brother.
He can’t stand it anymore as he turns opening the sliding glass door stomping into the backyard. It’s mainly a stone patio with a big pool in the center there’s a tiny patch of grass near a dividing wall. As Pope stands there he looks at all the windows, doors, open paths leading to and from the backyard into the house. He feels like an animal under observation and he suddenly realizes why Smurf was so interested in this house. He’s staring into the still water of the pool his unblinking frowning reflection staring back at him.
He’s different he knows it. Smurf never fails to point it out. Even when she doesn’t outright say it he can see it in the way she treats him versus Baz. Craig and Deran are different. They’re younger, not quite old enough to really understand what’s going on. Not old enough to truly be useful to Smurf yet. But Baz is her special little boy. Smurf’s project that she finally was able to complete. Baz is everything he isn’t. Charming, outgoing, funny, normal. Baz may as well play the prince in Smurf’s fucked up fairytale. Meanwhile Andrew gets to play the executioner and he fucking hates it.
A rustling of the bushes, scraping of the stone wall, a tiny little huff of exertion pulls him into the present and his head snaps up. At first he doesn’t see anything out of place. But then small fingers grasp the top of the wall and suddenly pink cheeks, a smile with a missing tooth, big wide eyes are looking back at him. “Hi!” Your tiny excited voice reaches his ears. He knows he should say something back but he can’t and you don’t seem to mind as you continue to talk to him.
“Are you going to be my new neighbor?” A grunt is pulled from you as you try to haul yourself up further pulling yourself partway up on the wall. His words stick in his throat and he watches your expression turn to confusion at his lack of response. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” Your voice is full of worry as you pause to look at him. You lift your hand to wave it at him which Pope already knows is a mistake and sure enough you slip. Your surprised yelp causes the corner of his mouth to twitch and he can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up in him.
“So you can hear me!” Your voice is full of accusation. Your brows furrowed your lips pressed into a thin frown. “It’s not nice to laugh.” You’ve dropped back behind the wall missing the way Pope is still staring the smile still on his face. You’re somewhere between Craig’s and Deran’s age but that doesn’t stop you from trying to get to know the older boy on the other side of the wall. You’re about to call to him again when the voice of a woman cuts you off. “Andrew where are you?” Smurf’s voice cuts through the air causing Pope to whip around.
His smile dropping immediately as she pulls the sliding glass door open. Her sharp eyes moving from Andrew to the now empty space on the wall. “There you are baby. How do you like the house?” She questions as she approaches him. With Deran’s no longer glued to her side she brings Pope into her side rubbing his arm as she looks from the yard to him. “‘S alright.” That’s all he manages to get out before there’s a crash and Deran’s wail rings out. Smurf lets out a sigh giving Andrew a small squeeze, which he knew ment it was time for them to go and round up everyone, before she stalked off.
Pope hesitated a moment his gaze flickering back to the wall a small sting of disappointment as it remained empty. He turns on his heel walking back across the patio to the kitchen. His hand wraps around the cool handle as he moves to close the door. “Bye bye Andy! I hope you move in soon!” His head snaps up to see your playful smile peeking back over the wall. You give him a final wave before disappearing. Pope feels his face flush at the nickname. Most kids think he’s strange and the majority of the nicknames he’s been given over the years haven’t been ones he’s fond of. But Andy is simple, familiar, casual.
Finally everyone is gathered up and walking down the driveway when he feels a hand on the nape of his neck. “Oh Andrew before I forget who was that in the backyard talking to you?” Smurf asks and while her tone is motherly it causes the hair on the back of Pope’s neck to stand on end. Pope is quick to shrug as he keeps his expression and voice flat despite the warmth bubbling in his chest. “Dunno just the neighbor girl.” The answer seems to satisfy Smurf as she lets go of him with a hum. He climbs into the car sliding into the back taking the window seat when normally he’d sit between Julia and Baz. He can’t help but glance out the window as the car peels away hoping to catch one more glimpse of his soon to be new neighbor.
