A/N: first time writing for pope omg he makes me so giddy and sick and horny i love that autistic man so much
there isnt much of a steady timeline for this but it starts around sometime in season 1 idk dont worry about it just enjoy my shit writing
still an x reader fic but reader has the nickname 'angel' that everyone calls her by!
so far i've only made it to early season 2 of the show so if anythings ooc dont hate me too much please!!!
part twoooo
part threeee
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Contrary to popular belief, Pope Cody was capable of liking things. Very much so, at times, though mostly they were familiar things. The punching bag against his fist, or the perfect sea breeze cast up by the incoming tide. The guinnea pig that was his and his alone for all of three weeks.
He came home from school to find it sat neatly in a white box on the kitchen side, out for anyone to see. His mother offered him the perfectly saccharine smile, said that it died because it was weak.
Ever since that day, he'd developed a sort of disposition to anything small, soft or quiet.
But never did he find a thing quite so fascinating and purely likeable as you.
You met Deran out on the waves one afternoon and quickly became friends. It wasn't long after that, that he and Craig started mentioning you, wherever they could, really. From how they spoke of you, Andrew figured you could be little less than, ironically, the Pope. A Saint, at very least.
On an otherwise dull Wednesday, Smurf had overhead one of their boastful bouts that seemed to orbit the topic of you. "Invite her to dinner," was all she said with that usual twinge of sharpness, before moving to slide the door open and stepping out into the garden.
Andrew sat stiffly, looking between his brothers as they shrugged at each other and nodded, squinting slightly as he took in every minute detail of their faces.
The next evening you found yourself at the front door of the beautiful house, lower lip trapped by your tooth as you gnawed the flesh slowly. You'd knocked, rung the bell, even called both Craig and Deran. Twice.
With a soft huff, you rocked back onto your heels slightly, just about to call Craig again when the door opened slowly. Your eyes leveled with a strange chest and you shifted your stance again, looking up to find his eyes.
Though they were a gentle brown, or a deep hazel, they seemed almost unnervingly sharp. Like he was assessing you. Or sizing you up.
"Hey, I'm, uh-"
You were cut off by the loud rumbling of Deran's Scout behind you, the heavy metal that blasted through the speakers and filled the air as they pulled up.
"Angel, yo!" Craig grinned, pushing open his door before his brother had even stopped, striding over to you, a case of beer hooked on his middle finger. Once he was close enough, he swung his long, lean arm over your shoulder and steered you with him to the gate beside the house. "Come check out the pool."
Deran leapt out of the truck and followed after the two of you quickly, leaving Pope alone on the front of the house once the gate had clattered shut behind them.
"No just fuck me, then," he scoffed, drawing back into the house and shoving the door shut.
Between Craig and Deran, you stumbled slightly (thanks to the weight of their bodies practically strewn over your own) through to the garden. "This is so cool," you uttered under your breath, eyes bulging as they caught on one thing in particular as your soft tone was replaced by an excited squeal, "Oh my fuck, is that a fountain?!"
Sliding out from between the brothers, you escaped their accompanying scents of sweat and oil and sea water and scurried over to inspect it, grinning. They slung after you with low chuckles.
Once they were beside you again, you felt the distinct tingle that preempted a quick glance over your shoulder to see who was watching you. When you did so, you saw him again. Even when you weren't so close, just a step away on opposite ends of the front door's threshold, he looked so big. Broad. Powerful.
What stood out most though, again, were his eyes.
They were glued to you, following your every slight movement, tracking you.
"D?" you hummed, tapping the arm of the man next to you as you quickly glanced away, cheeks flushed. "D, who's that?"
"Huh? Oh, Pope?"
"Oh. That's... your brother?"
"Mmhm," he nodded, eyes dropping back onto you slowly. "Why?"
Your own eyes now fixed again on the bubbling spout of the fountain across the lawn, you gave a little shrug, choosing not to disclose that something about him made your heart race and your stomach flutter. "He doesn't... seem like you guys."
"Nah, he's not really."
It was just the four of you around for a while. Well, sort of. Craig and Deran were throwing themselves in and out of the pool like kids on their first day of a long-awaited vacation as you watched on from a lounger. Pope lingered somewhere inside, both the house and your mind.
Baz arrived with Cath and Lena, who you knew vaguely from a handful of quick interactions, a few chance encounters in the aisles of stores and down the beach.
"Where's Smurf?" he sighed, cracking open a beer as he watched Cath lead the girl inside to get some juice.
"Don't know, man," Deran shrugged, now hunched over as he sat on the edge of the pool. Shooting another look behind him at your sunbathing form, he drawled almost sulkily, "Angel, aren't you gonna swim?"
"Unless you can conjure up a bikini for me.. no."
Craig laughed at that, shaking his head as he hoisted himself up out of the water, climbing up to his feet and sauntering over to the lounger beside yours, offering some taunt about skinny-dipping always being a viable option.
Smurf arrived soon after and you found yourself stiffening slightly, feeling caught, stood at the fridge, a bottle of beer in hand.
"You must be Angel," she cooed with an all-too-sweet smile, beckoning you to turn to see her.
"Uh yeah, hi," you nodded softly, shifting on your feet. "It's nice to meet you." She gave a slow nod, her eyes dropping to the beer in your hand. Twisting it in your hand, you uttered, "I've gotta.. take this to Deran."
"Of course, sweetie. Will you tell the boys that dinner will be out in five?"
With a quick nod, you shuffled back out through the sliding door and walked the requested beer over to your friend. "Your mom's back."
"Cool," he huffed, taking it and lifting the bottle to his mouth, cracking the cap off with his teeth, making you wince slightly.
"You're gonna fuck your mouth up doing that."
"Whatever. She say anything to you?"
"Not really."
"Good," he nodded stiffly, peering at you over the end of his beer bottle only to find your eyes had once again got caught on his oldest brother, a sigh escaping his lips as his gaze jumped to Andrew, his stare trained on you. "He bothering you?"
Slowly dropping back onto your lounger, you dragged your eyes away from where they had settled on Pope's thick neck and turned to look at Deran. "Huh?"
"Look, he just got out, so if he's weird, just.. let me know, alright?"
Your usual sweet smile found its way back onto your lips and you gave a nod. "Thanks, D," you hummed, even as your gaze drifted back over the pool.
Smurf had sat you next to Cath and Lena for dinner, Deran on her left and Pope on her right. Across the table, he stared at you as though looking long and hard enough would let him decipher your every thought. He watched your eyes jump to whoever was speaking, your finger giving the odd, soft tap to the side of your fork, your glimmering smile as you concurred with Craig that the food was good.
"It's perfect, Smurf, really. Thank you so much for inviting me," you hummed as you cut through your thick, bloody steak — by no means your usual order, but tasty enough for you to not have to lie outright, thankfully.
Andrew heard the smooth drawl of whatever his mother's smug reply was but the words were lost in the air around him, so transfixed on you. He watched how you let Lena put the vegetables she didn't like onto your plate, how you frowned slightly when Cath gave the warning that if she didn't eat all of her food she'd get no ice cream afterwards.
"Sorry, your mommy's right," you whispered, Pope's head tilting ever so slightly to follow the movement of your fork guiding the vegetables back onto the girl's plate.
An hour later, Baz had left with Cath and Lena, and you were in the lounge with Craig and Deran, clutching a pool cue and watching the former take a shot. Pope lingered in the kitchen, listening to the sound of your voice, your laugh, wanting to see it, see you again.
He stepped, silent as ever, into the room and leaned back against the wall, watching as you placed the white ball on the felt and bent over the edge of the table to check the angle of it, before drawing your body back up and taking the shot. Beaming, you squealed as one of your balls slotted neatly into a corner pocket, jumping up and down slightly and high-fiving Deran.
"Yeah, beat my brother's ass," he laughed.
"Oh, I'd like to see you do any better. She's, like, concerningly good."
Deran scoffed, striding forward to snatch the cue from Craig's hand as you lined up another shot and potted that just as smoothly, twirling slightly in some form of victory dance. Feet halting as soon as your eyes met Pope's, you let out a soft breath, cheeks slightly flushed. Then, remembering that speaking might be the normal thing to do, you chirped, "Do you wanna play?"
"Uh.."
"We can do doubles," you smiled, eyes clinging to his as if held there by some magnetic pull, then you glanced back over your shoulder. "Right, guys?"
"Sure," Craig shrugged, while Deran scurried quickly to your side, declaring, "Dibs on Angel!"
His brother scoffed, "What? You can't-"
"Just did!" he smirked, leaning against your side. Pope took in how the flesh of your arm touched Deran's, how your side was against his. Pushing down every instinct within him that screamed of wanting you, willing to scratch and claw to get you, he let a breath out and moved to pick a cue off the wall.
After a few rounds, you were back out by the pool, the sun setting now as you pulled a drag from the joint Deran had rolled, laying back against the sunbed.
They were inside somewhere, and you could hear their playful bickering even through the shut patio doors. What you didn't hear were Pope's footsteps, but somehow you felt that he was close. Lifting your head, you sat up slightly and turned to smile up at him. "Hi."
"Hi," he nodded stiffly, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans, biceps hugged by the black t-shirt he donned.
"Sorry about earlier," you uttered.
"What?"
"At the door.."
"Oh. That's fine," he said, offering a tight-lipped half-smile and a nod.
He watched you for a while longer before turning and heading back towards the house, beelining for the en suite to his room, turning the knob and groaning under the cold water that ran down on him.
That night, with Pope's stern eyes still on your mind, you rekindled with an old friend—the vibrator stuffed in your bedside drawer. You could have cried when the device unintentionally edged you, running out of battery just as you were on the precipice. You threw it aside with a whine and let your fingers do the rest.
A few months later, you'd become a sort of regular fixture around the house, always sprouting up to see Craig or Deran, or spend some time by the pool. You knew enough of their business to know it was entirely fraudulent, though you were still slightly unsure as to where they really did get all their money from. Not enough to ask, sure, for fear of making anyone suspicious that you might rat on them.
On the occasions that you saw Pope, you'd happily sit near and even with him, talking to him as though he was just another person to spew your thoughts to. He liked it very much, how you could ramble on about one thing for five minutes, and how you could jump from one topic to another in rapid succession and think nothing of it.
He never said much at all, which he also quite liked, and he appreciated that even the silences between you were not awkward or stuffy, only... calm, if he could even remember such a feeling.
You sat with him by the kitchen island, rambling on as he stared at you. You didn't much mind the staring; at first, it had made you a little self-conscious, uncertain of what he thought such a hard glare would gain, but once you'd come to learn that it was simply how he was, you enjoyed it.
You especially enjoyed how his eyes would drift down, grazing over your collarbones and sometimes even your cleavage. It felt like a gentle graze, a real touch.
"Andy?" you hummed softly, tilting your head.
He gave a soft grunt and nodded, eyes locked on yours.
"Do you mind if I call you that? I know I never really asked."
"No," he said plainly and for anyone else it might have been a lie, but he would've let you call him any name you saw fit.
"How come you don't..?"
It may well have been the first time you didn't finish a thought. Andrew shifted in his seat, murmured, "I don't what?"
"Well.. you don't have to answer, if it's too-"
"Spit it out."
"How come you don't have a girlfriend?"
His lips parted slightly, wide eyes still trained on yours, which dragged over his face, briefly inspected the curls atop his head. How could he even respond to that?
"I mean, um-" you glanced down at your hands, where they fidgeted in your lap. "You're, like... not a people person, I know that, but.. you're handsome, and.. nice..."
"Thank you," he rasped, blinking as he thought. "Handsome?"
You gave a nod, smiling softly. God, your cheeks felt like they were on fire, which they never had even when you were picking up a stranger in a bar, or well, ever. It seemed a byproduct of being in his presence, almost.
"I'm.. gonna go swim.."
You moved off your stool quickly and shuffled out to the pool. Pope turned, leaning back against the island, watching through the glass door as you pulled your little tank over your head, revealing a black bikini top. You shed your shorts as well and jumped into the pool.
He stalked his way out slowly and watched from a distance as you swam, nearing the edge of the pool until he was crouched. He lowered his hand and dipped his large fingers ever so slightly into the water, lifting his head to find you swimming over to him.
"Are you coming in?" you beamed.
"Not today," he grunted, shifting his feet as he drew his hand back and shook the wetness off it. "Come here."
You swam a little closer to the edge and looked up at him, nodding softly.
Andrew gave a pleased hum, moving his hand slowly, as if not to frighten you, before his fingers grazed your cheek, his thumb brushing your chin, almost touching the edge of your lip. "I'm handsome?"
"Don't let it get to your head," you giggled, wondering if it was obvious how you drew your legs together under the water, how you leaned into his touch just slightly.
"Do you want to be my girlfriend? Is that why you asked?"
"Are you.. offering?"
"Maybe."
"I..." fuck it, you thought. Craig and Deran would understand, at very least come to accept it. Moving closer to the edge of the pool, you planted your palms on the tiles next to his feet and pushed yourself up, leaning forward slowly and pressing your lips to his chin. "Yes. If you want to be my boyfriend."
Andrew clamped a hand around your upper arm and hoisted you out of the pool, leading you over to your sun lounger. You lay back on it and smiled softly at him, watching him sit cautiously on the edge.
Kicking your feet up into his lap, you hummed, "I'm not dreaming, am I?"
"No," he said quickly. "I think I am, though."
You giggled at that and relaxed further into the lounger, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you watched him sit stiff as a board. "I've never had a proper boyfriend..."
"Really?" he turned his head, brows furrowing as he considered that.
"Yeah.. I've been with people, of course, but I guess..."
"Mm?" he hummed, and with the smallest of smiles, eyes fixed as if he'd listen to any minor thought you had, egged you on to utter, "Guess I just wasn't the type of girl that guys like to... see for too long. You know, I talk so much, and-"
"That's just stupid," he scoffed. "Any guy would kill for you."
"Mm," you lifted your eyes back to his, smirking slightly as you cooed, "Would you kill for me, Andy?"
His gaze held yours dead on and he just stared for a moment before nodding slowly. He didn't speak it, but he didn't have to. Honestly, you were sure he wasn't lying either, which only made you grin, teasing, "Well, don't. I don't want my boyfriend to go back inside."
"Okay," he nodded, finally settling his palm on your ankle, gently dragging a circle with his thumb over the soft flesh atop your foot. "But if I had to..."
"Sure. If you had to."
