alex ♡

A/N: yall I’ve had this idea for so fucking long bc I loveeee two crazy bitches in love. don’t get me wrong I do like fics where Andy takes care of the reader but I love writing and reading unhinged reader too and every time I saw Baz on screen i literally got soo angry so then I wrote this. I really really really love this dynamic and I have a lot of ideas for them too so lmk if yall are interested in more parts expanding on this concept! I also have a small list of music that inspired this fic if anyone is curious about that but the main song inspiration for this pair/dynamic with Pope (and where I got the idea for the title) is called Deep Bite by Mannequin Pussy.

J returned from his morning run, pouring himself a glass of water and sitting down to plan out the rest of his day. He’d gotten about halfway through the day when Smurf waltzed into the kitchen with a poorly hidden, scheming smile on her face. “Your uncle Pope has been seeing someone. I’m throwing a party tonight for us all to get… acquainted. I’d like for you to be there.” She was saying it like what she’d just said was normal, waltzing around the kitchen island gathering ingredients to make breakfast.

J was no idiot. He knew something was wrong with the relationship Smurf had with her oldest son, and he knew that whatever was wrong with Pope was made exponentially worse with whatever the woman had put him through. Even so, he still saw the bits of his uncle that had survived his upbringing, especially when he was with Lena. So deep down, J hoped that maybe whoever Pope had latched on to would survive the weight of the Cody matriarch, if only so that Pope had someone he’d want to return to at the end of a hard day. He’d hoped it meant he wouldn’t have to worry about Pope having things to live for so he’d be less of a risk to take on jobs.

When the evening sky became more orange than blue, there were three sharp, curt knocks at the front door of the Cody residence. The easy conversation happening between the family halted at the sharp sound that travelled through the halls. Smurf traipsed to the entryway to welcome Pope and her esteemed guest– eager to begin digging her claws back into her eldest son and dragging him back under her control, where he belonged. After a small exchange of polite words with Smurf, you and Pope entered the living room. Your face was blank, your eyes were taking in the Cody compound, and any other family would’ve thought you were completely indifferent to the situation– almost relaxed. But the Cody family around you saw how tightly you were clinging on to Pope. The grip you had on Pope’s hand was enough to turn your knuckles white, and the hand you had wrung into the fabric of his sleeve was even tighter. The Cody boys all felt the same twist in their gut, glancing around at each other with eyes that said ‘we are watching a lamb being led to slaughter.’

Baz and Smurf shared a look of smug surprise when Andrew brought this sweet, young thing into Smurf’s house. Smurf immediately took note of how unhappy Andrew was to introduce you to his family, he angled himself between you and everyone else like some self-proclaimed shield and you just let him. She played it smart, kept her distance enough– only ever exchanging civil pleasantries like any good host should. You kept your head down, you only ever spoke when you were spoken to– and even then you were so quiet that Craig felt like he’d hurt you if he spoke too loud.

About an hour after your arrival, you’d quietly asked Andy where the bathroom was and he’d diligently escorted you to the cleanest bathroom in the house. Both Baz and Smurf tracked your movements with predatory eyes as Pope guided you inside. Once the two of you were well behind the glass-sliding doors, Baz coolly strolled over to Smurf with a beer in his hand, his signature shit-eating grin being poorly concealed by the bottle he brought up to hide his lips. “So? What’s the verdict on Pope’s little lamb, Smurf? You’ve been casing ‘em all night, I know you’ve got a read on this already.” Smurf chuckled and shook her head, busying her hands by picking up nearby trash. “I don’t think we have to worry about your brother’s new friend, baby. I think Nicky was a bigger problem for us than this will ever be. Nerves like that don’t last long around the Cody’s. They’ll realize how your brother really is and run for the hills. I’m more concerned about how that will affect Andrew than anything else. Just let it play out, and be ready for the fallout.” Her hands were suddenly offering Baz a shot of tequila. With wordless cheers, Baz and Smurf took their shots, eyes tracking the aforementioned couple making their way out of the house. Hand in hand, you and Pope quietly returned to the secluded little corner of the backyard by the fountain he built.

Two hours later, before the party started to die down, it felt like you’d blinked and were the only one left with Andrew and his family. They were all around you, trading stories from days that have long since passed. You leaned into Andy’s side as the two of you silently listened to the stories told mainly by Craig and Baz. You could feel how Smurf’s gaze never wavered from you, even when she was adding to Craig and Baz’s inebriated reflections of their childhood together. Still, you kept your head down. Andy had warned you that this would happen. His family didn’t take to outsiders well, and he made sure that you knew to expect the predatory gaze of Smurf and Baz. That didn’t make it feel any better, but you were doing this for Andy, so you’d endure. You’d politely nod and smile when it felt appropriate, but otherwise you’d done your best to busy your mind with anything you could– wishing you could fast-forward to you and Andy falling asleep in your bed across town.

You snapped back to reality when you realized that the stories being told were becoming more and more about Andy. Suddenly your spine straightened, and your eyes were following whoever was speaking at the time. J and Smurf both noticed this shift in your demeanor, only Smurf had written you off the second you meekly introduced yourself to her from behind her oldest son’s body. To her, you were of no consequence to any of the Cody’s– the biggest impact you’d have on her life after this is how she’d comfort Pope after you inevitably leave him.

J, however, wasn’t so sure he’d figured you out the way Smurf thought she had. He’d politely kept his distance, but something about you made him want to know if there was more to Pope’s doe-eyed companion than what Smurf let herself believe. He couldn’t tell if the way you reacted once you realized his uncles were talking about Pope was out of excitement to learn more about the man who let you lean on his shoulder and play with his fingers, or if it was something closer to you deciding that you were no longer interested in playing at submission as a means to survive. Either way, he had a feeling that he would have a definitive answer by the end of the night, maybe sooner if Baz kept talking about Pope the way that he had been when you rolled your shoulders back.

“Dude, wasn’t that the summer that Pope quit taking his meds? God, man. You would stand outside all night completely naked. Remember that one time Cath caught you out there? I don’t know if I ever convinced her that you weren’t watching us screw. You weren’t getting off on watching us, right Pope?” Baz’s cocky inflection was tainted with alcohol, slurring and swaying as he spewed nonsense for the sake of attention.

Realistically, you knew that this was nothing more than siblings shooting the shit with each other. There was likely no true malice behind Baz’s jab but even if there was ill intent, Baz was completely shitfaced. You were prepared to just let it go. But you felt Andy tense up for a moment, and you felt his ribs expand against yours at the sharp, shaky inhale he took.

And then you stood.

Your feet may have hit the ground twice as you closed the distance between you and Baz impossibly fast. You yanked the beer bottle out of his hand and kicked his feet out from under him, following him down to the paved poolside. There was a vague sensation of your knees and bottle-free hand dragging against the concrete as you made sure to land on top of Baz’s upper body. He groaned out in pain and confusion upon impact, and you maneuvered his hands to cross over his chest before pinning them there under your knee and bodyweight. His eyes snapped open, expecting to see one of his brothers on top of him. Instead, he was met with the wide, crazed eyes of the innocent little thing that was clinging on to Pope’s arm just a second ago. He had no time to be shocked at the animalistic grin on your face as you raised the arm that wasn’t occupied with holding his head down by an iron grip in his hair, and brought it back down, slamming the glass beer bottle right next to his ear. He flinched and forced his eyes shut again at the sound of shattering glass by his head and the feeling of beer and glass shards cut at his cheek. His eyes snapped open when he felt a cold, sharp pain at his throat. Your face was sickly sweet, eyes wide, chest heaving. He swallowed and caught your lips moving as you spoke to him. It took a lot of effort to make out the words you were saying. “Sorry Baz, I didn’t quite catch that last part. Would you repeat it for me, pretty please?” He struggled against the grip you had on his hair, which made you tighten the hold you had on him. When he didn’t answer, you cocked your head to the side and mockingly frowned at him, adding pressure to the jagged piece of glass you were pressing against his neck. “Come on, Baz. Say it again. I just want to make sure I heard what you said a second ago. Everybody else started laughing… and I really don’t like being left out of jokes. What did you say? Huh? Was it something funny?” Your voice got louder and more maniacal as you taunted him, and you pressed the broken bottle to his neck even more, breaking the skin. You leaned in to roughly press your nose against his as you started laughing before regaining enough composure to pull your face into a pout. “Did you say something funny, Baz? I want to laugh, too! Tell me what you said! Say. It. Again.” By the time the last three words left your lips, there was only fury on your face.

"I-" Baz gasped for air, feeling a single droplet of blood run from where the glass was digging into the skin of his neck-- right at his jugular. "I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't mean it... I swear. It was a bad joke. I'm sorry. J-just put the bottle down." You stayed eerily still on top of him, save for the heaving of your chest and the wild way your eyes frantically flitted all over his face. His eyes had visibly sobered up since he'd hit the ground just moments ago, and the new mental clarity the man regained allowed him to recognize the way you'd kept your teeth bared at him. Pope used to make that face a lot when they were kids— untamed, unpredictable, uncontrollable. Dangerous.

There was a second where Baz looked up at you as if he recognized you, despite knowing he’d never laid eyes on you before tonight. He took in a slow, steady breath as he changed his strategy to get out from under you. "Just put the bottle down." He spoke slowly this time, like he was handling a scared mutt. He spoke like he was handling Pope. You watched as his eyes moved to focus on something moving behind you, and his face flashed from relieved to absolutely mortified. You paid no mind to what had his attention behind you, whatever it was felt inconsequential to the flames of god-like wrath that licked at the bottom of your heart. Whatever was scaring him more than the jagged shard of glass poking at his neck was not as dangerous as you were on top of this sorry excuse for a man, father, brother, son, or otherwise.

You shifted your weight to add more pressure to his hands and neck, shaking with a rage that registered in Baz's mind as something that only Pope possessed. "Next time you'll remember to watch your fucking mouth, right Baz?" The voice that came out of you didn't feel like your own, but the burn you felt deep in your throat after the words seemingly clawed their way past your lips was enough for you to claim ownership over the threat. You used the hand anchored in the roots of his hair to move his head in a way that made him appear to nod at you, and a maniacal— almost amused— laugh escaped you.

This...this was new. This fire that was fighting its way out of you. It completely drowned out everything besides your fury at Baz, and your unyielding, uncontrollable love for Andy. You couldn't hear the commotion your actions were causing behind you. The cock of J's gun fell on completely deaf ears, as did the subsequent cock of Pope's gun as he threatened to shoot J if he even thought about pointing the gun at you. The way Smurf gasped in a panic, demanding everyone put their guns down, or the exasperated pleas that came from her lips, begging Pope to get you off of Baz before this got any more out of hand-- you were completely oblivious to it.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, pretty. I’m not upset at what he said, I promise. Just put down the glass and we can go home, yeah? We can take a bath and go to sleep. C'mon, pretty.” That low, gruff voice that broke through to you, and the feeling of Andy’s strong arms beginning to lift you off of Baz was enough for you to calmly place the jagged glass down next to Baz’s head. You blinked a few times, and turned to meet Andy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Andy,” you whispered to him as he walked you inside,”I hate how they talk to you, I tried to ignore it but… I ruined your night. I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me– I swear I tried not to–” Andy watched as real tears gathered in your eyes, and your bottom lip quivered as you pleaded with him not to be upset with you– as if he could ever get upset with you.

You sniffled and dropped your head like a scolded child– letting Andy fully pick you up to take you to the bathroom. He tenderly pressed his lips to your temple to soothe you. “Hey, hey. Look at me. I’m not mad at you, sweetheart. ‘Could never be mad at you. ‘Promise.” By this time, you were back to the quiet, sweet little creature that Andy introduced to his family, and you were absolutely mortified at how you’d lost control over a joke in front of Andy’s family.

“I hate how they talk to you, Andy. I don’t like how they treat you. They make you so sad, and when Baz made that stupid joke, all I could think about was the first night you came to my apartment because of what he said to you about having kids… and now your family definitely hates me.” The way you looked at him in that moment healed him and broke his heart again in a completely new way. He never thought he’d meet someone that loved him the same way he loved others. He figured he’d have to live the rest of his life having everyone else confuse his love and devotion with rage and violence. And yet here you sat in front of him, crying that you’d messed up everything by losing control in the same way Andy did.

He brought both hands up to hold your head. “Look at me, pretty. I’m not upset that you did that. I’m upset that you’re bleeding and cut up because of a stupid joke about me. I’m upset with Baz for not knowing when to shut his fucking mouth, and for making you upset. I’m upset at Smurf for making me bring you here to meet everyone. I’m upset that you get so worked up over me. But I could never be upset with you. Got that? Not ever.” His eyes began to water as the words poured from him, and when his voice broke at ‘ever,’ you brought your hands up to cover his own, still holding your head to look at his face. It took a moment of stillness– of simply looking at one another– before he exhaled and pressed his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a while before your breathing returned to normal. You opened your eyes to look at him, and a genuine, watery chuckle escaped you before you could stop it.

“God, Andy. We’re a fuckin’ mess, huh?” You brought your hands to hold the sides of his face as he cracked his eyes open at you. You saw his nose twitch– his version of a laugh– as you gently bumped your nose to the side of his. You felt him huff out a small laugh through his nose, and then he pressed his lips to yours for a brief, but lasting, kiss.

He brought his hands to cover yours, mirroring your actions from earlier, before gently pulling your hands from his cheeks. “I don’t mean to make things worse, but between the two of us you are definitely the bigger mess right now.” Your eyes went wide again, as your hands left red prints where they rested earlier. “You’re still bleeding, pretty. Let me clean you up, enough to at least get home without getting blood all over the place.” His monotonous tendencies rarely tripped you up anymore, but high tensions made you mistake his tone for one of disgust as a result of getting blood on his face.

“Oh my god, Andy. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize I was bleeding. Are you okay? Here, let me help.” Your chest tightened at the realization that he absolutely should be mad at you for getting your blood all over his face, especially considering his obsession with cleanliness. You reached for a nearby towel to wipe his face off, but with the adrenaline wearing off, you could feel a pretty nasty gash on the hand that previously wielded the broken glass bottle. It must have sliced your hand open when you broke it. You hissed in pain, and Andy’s head snapped to look at you, searching for the cause of your discomfort. Seeing your arm reaching for a towel, he grabbed your wrist to get a better look at the cut on your hand and successfully prevented you from cleaning up the bloody mess you’d made of his cheeks.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, pretty.” He kept his eyes on your bleeding hand as he gruffly murmured to you.

You shook your head indignantly, trying and failing to clean him up. “No, Andy… I made a mess– you have blood on your face. What about the germs? At least wipe your face off before worrying about me, I don’t want you stressed out because of my mess.” Any attempt at catching his eyes failed as you spoke, and after a moment of silence between the two of you he exhaled and looked back at your face. The way he blinked rapidly meant whatever he was about to say was not to be taken lightly. He pursed his lips as he gathered his thoughts, looking away from you for a moment.

“Your messes don’t bother me.” He returned to cleaning your wounds and patching you up as if the words he’d just said were no big deal.

You, on the other hand, were in total shock. When you first met Andy, (he was ‘Pope’ to you back then) it was pretty easy to tell that he was a bit particular about cleanliness. You never minded, though. He once broke into your apartment after a bad argument with his mom, and when you found him on his hands and knees scrubbing the grout between your bathroom tiles he shrugged and told you that cleaning always helped making his thoughts a little quieter, and that being with you –or even in your space– helped calm his mind, too. You simply nodded at him, left the bathroom, and returned with your own pair of rubber gloves and your spare key you kept hidden in case you ever locked yourself out. Andy went to the beach that night, only after you’d fallen asleep, and cried. He’d never been accepted like that before. He was expecting you to kick him out and never talk to him again (he had broken into your apartment, after all) or at least make fun of his yellow gloves. You’d done neither. You gave him the key to your apartment and told him he could come any time, running your hands through his curls and adding that he didn’t need to clean if he didn’t want to, that he could just come by to take a nap during the day. And you offered to help him. You asked questions to make sure you were cleaning the same way he would, if only to ease his mind. You didn’t just accept that part of him, you welcomed it. You made it easier for him to feel better when he was overwhelmed or upset. He’d never really felt that before. He didn’t realize that feeling this sort of acceptance was ever even an option– especially for him.

Being neat and clean was something that soothed him greatly, and that night you discovered just how important tidiness was to him. You tried to be better about staying neat, and he noticed. For him to say that your mess didn’t bother him… that felt more intimate than saying ‘I love you’ especially when the mess was your blood on his face. You pursed your lips and pouted at his statement, not quite sure what to do with all the adoration you felt for him in that moment.

“Promise you’re not mad about the mess? And about me going berserk on your brother in front of your family?” The words felt small leaving your lips, though promises between you and Andy were anything but. You kept your eyes on your hand as he delicately bandaged your hand up. It was his turn to chase after your gaze, to no avail. You felt the heat rise up your neck, warming your cheeks as you felt his eyes on you, but your eyes stayed cast down.

He gently lifted your now-bandaged hand, gently pressing a kiss to the fabric that covered your palm. He placed your hand down on your lap, and brought both hands to the side of your head, guiding you to look back at him. He brought his lips to your forehead, and the two of you stayed like that for a moment. “I promise I’m not mad at you, pretty. I promise that I could never be mad at you.” Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt him speak the words against the space between your eyebrows. The last bit of tension left your shoulders as you let out a soft sigh and nodded your head in understanding.

Andy slid one hand to the back of your neck, moving to where your forehead was pressed against his clavicle, and grabbed the towel you’d been reaching for earlier. He ran it under cool water and held it out for you to take. “Here ya go, pretty. You can clean me up while I bandage up your knees. How’s that?” He spoke softly, softer than anyone had ever spoken to him before he met you. You lifted your head to meet his eyes, almost as if you were making sure he was serious. You nodded and took the damp towel from his hand, watching as he got on one knee and guided your foot to rest on his lap. You gently, but thoroughly, cleaned all your blood off his face while he gently, but thoroughly, cleaned and bandaged the scrapes on your knees.

The love between you and your Andy was strange, but it was yours. And the two of you would protect that love with teeth bared until your last breaths. This love was dangerous to everyone else, but you and Andy found great comfort in each other’s raised hackles. That was the irrefutable, absolute love and protection that existed between the two of you.

you lean down to place a kiss to the head of him, then another. then another and another while giggling as you think about how cute his pink tip is. you hear him sigh impatiently and you blink up at him through bleary eyes. "s-sorry *hic* soryy jackie- 's jus sooo pretty."

he runs a hand through his silver curls before reaching down to try and haul you off your knees. his arms grip under your armpits like how a parent picks up a toddler. " 's alright baby you don't have to. lets just go to sleep alright?"

but you squirm out of his hold and firmly plant yourself on your knees. pouting all serious now. "no! i can do it *hic* promise!" after a second of scanning your face for doubt, jack nods and settles back into the couch when all he finds is determination.

you wrap your manicured hand around his pretty cock, a lopsided grin forms on your face when you hears jack's breath catch. you prop your elbow on one of his spread knees and rest your cheek against your fist as you stroke him way too slowly due to time meaning nothing to you in your buzzed state of mind.

you don't even realize you're eye lids drooping until jack thrusts up into your hand with a rough, "cmon baby." you jolt upright instantly, swallowing down a drunken yawn before forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. sweetly saying "sorry jackie."

you bend forward to lick him, a long stripe from base to tip that has you smacking your lips with a "mmmm tastes good." jack huffs a laugh thats snuffed out by a groan when you take him in your mouth.

one languid suck of his length has you feeling dizzy. but not the usual kind of dizziness that blooms from pleasure, the intoxicated kind. when you bob back up the world spins, you mumble jacks name weakly before your hands shoot out to grab at his thick thighs.

he straightens instantly, cursing as he grips your biceps, hard cock still standing at attention inches from your face. "no more." he grunts with a grimace on his wrinkled face, looking like he's about to try and move you from your spot again.

but he's so hard! and you told him you wanted to do this. and you still do. you love making him feel good and getting drunk was not going to stop you from doing so. you start to whine and shimmy out of his hold. " 'm jus too dizzy. *hic* help me please?" your lower lip wobbles and tears brim at your waterline. jack gives you a doting smile and strokes your hair, not being able to say no to you. "course i can sweetheart."

thinking he's gonna fuck your face, you form an 'o' and go to take him back in your mouth. you squeak in surprise when jack grips your hair and gently tugs you back to look up at him. he chides "nuh uh baby. dont wan't you gettin' nauseous." before you can even argue he lays his thumb on your tongue and drags it outwards. "lemme do all the work. stick that tongue out. good girl- just like that."

you giggle at the praise, shifting on your knees so he has a better view of you all glossy eyed and pliant for him. jack takes himself in his vein covered hand and starts to leisurely stroke. watching him touch himself has your cheeks heating and thighs squirming. "jackiee" you whine, for nothing in particular.

but he just shakes his head as his movements speed up, grunting as he twists his wrist at the tip. "don't worry baby. just sit there and look pretty- fuck- y'so pretty sweetheart." after however long -you're so wasted you couldn't say- his jaw clenches and his thighs tense and you can tell he's getting close.

you see his aged face pinch as he squeezes the thick base with his hand while staring at you wide eyed for him. your hands start to feel real useless. so you reach out to grip his balls to help! he groans loudly as you start to massage them in your soft palm.

"fuck- just like that- doin so good-" his praises have you sober the tiniest bit, enough to lean forward and dribble some spit onto his glistening tip. jack throws his head back in a broken moan before gluing his blown out eyes back to yours. "gonna cum- tongue out f'me. now."

you obey him, instantly rewarded by the sound of jack cumming, groaning your name along with a string of lewd praises. "oooh fuck- fuck baby- so good. you're so good-" he tilts his hips forward as his hand jerks himself rapidly, his salty release spraying you from your extended tongue, to your smudged mascara covered cheeks, to the tip of your nose. he only collapses when you're entirely painted in his cum, slowly blinking down at you. his chuckle at your huge grin and sticky face is weak and satisfied.

you stick your tongue out to start to lick up his release but he stops you by successfully picking you up and dropping you on the couch. "leave it." he demands as he makes his way down your body to spread your legs with his large palms.