hannah!

18 | she/her it is happening again

[ginghamrocks]

speaking into the void to see if anyone will see this…this is my fan fiction account #be prepared. i prolly won’t post often but ya know ^_^

i take requests but again will not be posting often…

some stuff i like/will write for: animal kingdom, the pitt, harry potter, the quarry, smosh, overwatch (don’t judge), yellowjackets, twin peaks, and some actors maybe…

master this list

[ginghamrocks]

guys is the quarry fandom alive on tumblr….specifically fan fiction cuz i’m hyperfixated on the game AGAIN but it’s the same stories from when i was into it like a year ago maybe…is there any demand #lmk

i giggled every time i see this photo k anyway bye

[ginghamrocks]

ok so i had a little thought but im too lazy to write it so here you go i suppose…

manager!andrew cody who runs and owns your store in a fast food sort of coffee shop (if that makes sense, similar to dunkin or starbucks)

barista!reader who was simply trying to get the money while talking to the customer but makes the interaction a lot more confusing than it should have been…

manager!andrew cody accidentally critiques barista reader for holding up the line, by yelling at them. eader walks out to the back, switching positions with their coworkers.

andrew who was perched on the counter, follows them after feeling bad for criticizing them so hard.

andrew finds them in the back, overwhelming by all the people as well as the chaos that’s happening in the store.

andrew talks to the reader, knowing yelling wasn’t going to make it any better but after all he is a manager and he has to do his job.

after this discussion they both see eye to eye, andrew still says he’ll make it up to them. as their shifts end they walk out together.

andrew says “let me make it up to you now.” the reader tilts their head as he guides them to his car.

thank god he installed that tint, as the moment they step foot into his car and close the door, he’s got a dirty idea in his head.

one thing leads to another and their drawls are on the floor, andrew’s head between their legs, going down with such care! whispering apologies as he uses his tongue in ways they could only dream of!

he watches their eyes roll back, all of that stress going away in seconds as he holds back his own erection, just watching as they squirm and moan.

apology accepted i suppose….

———

ok i lowkey hate writing smut and i suck at it but this thought genuinely came to me in a lucid dream so suck it

[szczurherbacany]

a familiar face

@tankhall

[ginghamrocks]

coffee breath

andrew ‘pope’ cody x whimsy!barista reader (using she/her once in this sorry my crew), this is me trying fluff be nice to me :( cw: pope being shy and awkward, chatty reader, im a barista so don’t even worry gangggg, warning for an evil little guys but nothing too crazy

———

andrew walked into the coffee shop, the one smurf had decided she needed before a big job, and then baz wanted something, then deran, then craig...he hadn't cared much for the fancy lattes or really anything but a brewed coffee...even if he hated the bitterness.

as he walked in, the scent of coffee and sweetness hit him first. the lighting was warm, soft music playing quietly from above. he walks up to the counter, staring at the menu, hundreds of options staring back at him.

you approach him, a warm smile upon your face. he notices first your apron, little pins decorating the top corners. he looks back up at your face, still having a warm inviting expression. you welcome him, your voice smooth and satisfying to listen to. “hey welcome in! what can i get started for you?”

andrew stares at you, that same cold stare he gives everyone but it doesn’t seem to phase you one bit. “i have a couple things.” he says pulling out his phone. you nod in response, pulling out a sharpie from the pocket of your apron.

“can i get a medium hot vanilla cappuccino,” he says looking back up at you, watching as you write on the cup then type it in on the register. “a large caramel latte with an extra shot, a large brewed coffee, a medium cold brew…” he looks back up at the menu board, scanning it. you watch him put away his phone, crossing his arms.

“honestly i’m not too sure what to get myself.” he says flatly. “is the cold brew any good?” he questioned. you nod enthusiastically. “yes i love our cold brew, it can be bitter so we have our creme cold brews,” you point up to the board, cold brews with flavor, cream, and topped with cold foam. “or i personally really like to do vanilla and almond milk in mine!” you chirped excitedly.

andrew never really thought about putting flavor in his coffee, he usually just drank whatever coffee smurf had, bitter and sometimes lukewarm. “i don’t like sweet things much but i also don’t like things too bitter.” you nodded thinking for a moment. “hmmmm do you like hot or iced?” you questioned him. he thought for a moment. “um..hot i guess?” you nodded again. “do you need some energy?” yoh questioned again.

andrew repositioned and nodded silently. he saw you type something in and then write it on the cup. “let me make you something special, and if you hate it, your whole order will be on the house.” you grinned. popes eyebrows shot up. “but i doubt you will.” you said. “can i get a name for the order?” you asked. “andrew.” he said bluntly.

you nodded again. “i’ll get working on that andrew.” the way you said his name gave him a chill, something about his real name always made him feel like he was taken more serious in a way.

he sat at a table nearby, watching you pour the shots, steam milk, pour the cold brew and the brewed coffee into cups, sticking stoppers into the hot ones, and getting straws for the others. you placed the four drinks not for him in a drink carrier then when you finished his you waved him over.

he walked over, watching, calculating, you can tell by the way his eyes shifted. he looked at you like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. he wondered how he didn’t scare you, as most people look at him like he’s going to hurt them any given second. “order for andrew.” you stated, you were almost proud, you slid the cup towards him.

he carefully picked up the cup, hesitating for a moment before taking a sip. his face softened slightly, a realization maybe. he always thought coffee was always supposed to be bitter, hitting the back of his throat expecting something better. but what he tasted was something smoother, a small amount of flavor but was still able to taste the coffee.

he looked up at you, your face already beaming. “what is it?” he questioned. “an americano, extra shot of espresso, half and half, a two pumps of vanilla.” he nodded. he payed for the order, leaving you a very generous tip before leaving.

he came in a couple days later, smurf said she wanted her coffee but pope offered to go get it for her. he walked it, he saw you working once again, your face lighting up when you see him. he noticed a sign of recognition in your eyes. he walks up to the counter, hands shoved into his pockets.

he notices the faint purple sparkly eyeshadow on your eyes, your earrings being gold butterflies, and little white flowers embroidered on your apron which he hadn’t noticed before. you smile at him, almost knowing. “welcome back.” the recognition was clear on your face. he nodded quietly, he was more nervous than the first time. “what can i get going for you?” you questioned, your head tilting slightly.

he paused for a moment. “do you remember what you made me last time?” he questioned, his voice sounding slightly different, softer maybe. you nodded. “medium americano, extra shot, half and half, and two pumps of vanilla.” his eyebrows raised slightly. “how did you remember so quickly?” he questioned, shocked at first your recognition but also your memory of what you made him.

you shrugged coolly. “something about you made me remember you,” you laughed shyly. “i don’t know i guess i hoped you come back.” andrew nodded. “i’ll take that then.” you nodded quietly. “anything else?” he nodded, pausing for a moment staring at you for a little too long but your face never changed.

“i’ll take the medium vanilla cappuccino please.” you nodded again, writing on the cups before typing into the register. “perfect i’ll have that out soon.” you said looking at him for a moment longer then getting to work on the drinks.

andrew sat at the same table as before, watching as you made the drinks. once you finished you walked over and sat across from him, almost as it was natural. you pushed the coffee towards him, and set aside the cappuccino, a stopper already placed in it. he looked at you, taking the coffee between his palms. he noticed a drink next to you, a green drink, a slight pink tint on top. he glanced at it then back at you.

“what is that?” he questioned. “a matcha with oat milk and strawberry.” you said taking a sip. you offered it to him, it felt natural in a way. you were used to sharing with coworkers, it almost felt the same when with him. he took it in his hand, almost engulfing it, he took a sip, his face scrunching slightly. you giggled in response. “sorry i forgot you don’t like sweet things.”

the next couple weeks andrew would come in every couple days, then every other day, then everyday. maybe the coffee was too good, or maybe he just liked the fact that you treated him normally, kindly even. he always felt people were too scared of him, that if he were around someone so much they’d realize how bad he actually is and leave. but you never did. he always came in fifteen minutes before your break, you would make his coffee and your drink, then sit across him and talk at him for thirty minutes.

he liked when you talked at him, he would respond every now and then with appropriate responses, but he liked hearing you rant about your job, your interests, your life, what you did outside of work, etc. he could listen to you talk all day. the normalcy of it all was a fresh breath of air for him.

one day he came in, someone already standing at the counter. he was slightly taller than himself but much skinnier, lanky. andrew saw him leaning against the counter, his palms laying flat, his face too close to you. andrew could easily spot the uncomfortableness on your face. you body tense, your face twisted into an expression he hadn’t see before. you usually had a smiled constantly plastered on your face, now replaced with something of a grimace.

andrew stood behind the guy, first listening to the situation. “maybe i could take you out sometime, i mean you’re gorgeous, so am i. i could make you scream all-“ andrew placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, his grip scarily tight. “i suggest you leave her alone.” his jaw clenching. the man’s faces twists from something smug to terror. “hey man back off.” the man said, his voice shaking. “i don’t want no trouble.” andrew scoffed. “i know, so get out before i knock your teeth out.”

he nodded vigorously running out. you watched as he ran then looked at andrew with a smile. “thank you andrew.” you said letting out a sigh of relief. andrew nodded. “my usual please.”

———

ok hi yes this is longer than usual yay!

[ginghamrocks]

thank you for all of the love on this guys i really appreciate it!!! 🫰🫰

[ginghamrocks]

guys i’m going crazy someone make a hurt/comfort fic of andrew cody im sobbing my eyes out at this very moment

[ginghamrocks]

coffee breath

andrew ‘pope’ cody x whimsy!barista reader (using she/her once in this sorry my crew), this is me trying fluff be nice to me :( cw: pope being shy and awkward, chatty reader, im a barista so don’t even worry gangggg, warning for an evil little guys but nothing too crazy

———

andrew walked into the coffee shop, the one smurf had decided she needed before a big job, and then baz wanted something, then deran, then craig...he hadn't cared much for the fancy lattes or really anything but a brewed coffee...even if he hated the bitterness.

as he walked in, the scent of coffee and sweetness hit him first. the lighting was warm, soft music playing quietly from above. he walks up to the counter, staring at the menu, hundreds of options staring back at him.

you approach him, a warm smile upon your face. he notices first your apron, little pins decorating the top corners. he looks back up at your face, still having a warm inviting expression. you welcome him, your voice smooth and satisfying to listen to. “hey welcome in! what can i get started for you?”

andrew stares at you, that same cold stare he gives everyone but it doesn’t seem to phase you one bit. “i have a couple things.” he says pulling out his phone. you nod in response, pulling out a sharpie from the pocket of your apron.

“can i get a medium hot vanilla cappuccino,” he says looking back up at you, watching as you write on the cup then type it in on the register. “a large caramel latte with an extra shot, a large brewed coffee, a medium cold brew…” he looks back up at the menu board, scanning it. you watch him put away his phone, crossing his arms.

“honestly i’m not too sure what to get myself.” he says flatly. “is the cold brew any good?” he questioned. you nod enthusiastically. “yes i love our cold brew, it can be bitter so we have our creme cold brews,” you point up to the board, cold brews with flavor, cream, and topped with cold foam. “or i personally really like to do vanilla and almond milk in mine!” you chirped excitedly.

andrew never really thought about putting flavor in his coffee, he usually just drank whatever coffee smurf had, bitter and sometimes lukewarm. “i don’t like sweet things much but i also don’t like things too bitter.” you nodded thinking for a moment. “hmmmm do you like hot or iced?” you questioned him. he thought for a moment. “um..hot i guess?” you nodded again. “do you need some energy?” yoh questioned again.

andrew repositioned and nodded silently. he saw you type something in and then write it on the cup. “let me make you something special, and if you hate it, your whole order will be on the house.” you grinned. popes eyebrows shot up. “but i doubt you will.” you said. “can i get a name for the order?” you asked. “andrew.” he said bluntly.

you nodded again. “i’ll get working on that andrew.” the way you said his name gave him a chill, something about his real name always made him feel like he was taken more serious in a way.

he sat at a table nearby, watching you pour the shots, steam milk, pour the cold brew and the brewed coffee into cups, sticking stoppers into the hot ones, and getting straws for the others. you placed the four drinks not for him in a drink carrier then when you finished his you waved him over.

he walked over, watching, calculating, you can tell by the way his eyes shifted. he looked at you like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. he wondered how he didn’t scare you, as most people look at him like he’s going to hurt them any given second. “order for andrew.” you stated, you were almost proud, you slid the cup towards him.

he carefully picked up the cup, hesitating for a moment before taking a sip. his face softened slightly, a realization maybe. he always thought coffee was always supposed to be bitter, hitting the back of his throat expecting something better. but what he tasted was something smoother, a small amount of flavor but was still able to taste the coffee.

he looked up at you, your face already beaming. “what is it?” he questioned. “an americano, extra shot of espresso, half and half, a two pumps of vanilla.” he nodded. he payed for the order, leaving you a very generous tip before leaving.

he came in a couple days later, smurf said she wanted her coffee but pope offered to go get it for her. he walked it, he saw you working once again, your face lighting up when you see him. he noticed a sign of recognition in your eyes. he walks up to the counter, hands shoved into his pockets.

he notices the faint purple sparkly eyeshadow on your eyes, your earrings being gold butterflies, and little white flowers embroidered on your apron which he hadn’t noticed before. you smile at him, almost knowing. “welcome back.” the recognition was clear on your face. he nodded quietly, he was more nervous than the first time. “what can i get going for you?” you questioned, your head tilting slightly.

he paused for a moment. “do you remember what you made me last time?” he questioned, his voice sounding slightly different, softer maybe. you nodded. “medium americano, extra shot, half and half, and two pumps of vanilla.” his eyebrows raised slightly. “how did you remember so quickly?” he questioned, shocked at first your recognition but also your memory of what you made him.

you shrugged coolly. “something about you made me remember you,” you laughed shyly. “i don’t know i guess i hoped you come back.” andrew nodded. “i’ll take that then.” you nodded quietly. “anything else?” he nodded, pausing for a moment staring at you for a little too long but your face never changed.

“i’ll take the medium vanilla cappuccino please.” you nodded again, writing on the cups before typing into the register. “perfect i’ll have that out soon.” you said looking at him for a moment longer then getting to work on the drinks.

andrew sat at the same table as before, watching as you made the drinks. once you finished you walked over and sat across from him, almost as it was natural. you pushed the coffee towards him, and set aside the cappuccino, a stopper already placed in it. he looked at you, taking the coffee between his palms. he noticed a drink next to you, a green drink, a slight pink tint on top. he glanced at it then back at you.

“what is that?” he questioned. “a matcha with oat milk and strawberry.” you said taking a sip. you offered it to him, it felt natural in a way. you were used to sharing with coworkers, it almost felt the same when with him. he took it in his hand, almost engulfing it, he took a sip, his face scrunching slightly. you giggled in response. “sorry i forgot you don’t like sweet things.”

the next couple weeks andrew would come in every couple days, then every other day, then everyday. maybe the coffee was too good, or maybe he just liked the fact that you treated him normally, kindly even. he always felt people were too scared of him, that if he were around someone so much they’d realize how bad he actually is and leave. but you never did. he always came in fifteen minutes before your break, you would make his coffee and your drink, then sit across him and talk at him for thirty minutes.

he liked when you talked at him, he would respond every now and then with appropriate responses, but he liked hearing you rant about your job, your interests, your life, what you did outside of work, etc. he could listen to you talk all day. the normalcy of it all was a fresh breath of air for him.

one day he came in, someone already standing at the counter. he was slightly taller than himself but much skinnier, lanky. andrew saw him leaning against the counter, his palms laying flat, his face too close to you. andrew could easily spot the uncomfortableness on your face. you body tense, your face twisted into an expression he hadn’t see before. you usually had a smiled constantly plastered on your face, now replaced with something of a grimace.

andrew stood behind the guy, first listening to the situation. “maybe i could take you out sometime, i mean you’re gorgeous, so am i. i could make you scream all-“ andrew placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, his grip scarily tight. “i suggest you leave her alone.” his jaw clenching. the man’s faces twists from something smug to terror. “hey man back off.” the man said, his voice shaking. “i don’t want no trouble.” andrew scoffed. “i know, so get out before i knock your teeth out.”

he nodded vigorously running out. you watched as he ran then looked at andrew with a smile. “thank you andrew.” you said letting out a sigh of relief. andrew nodded. “my usual please.”

———

ok hi yes this is longer than usual yay!

[se7entyrell]

pope cody smau w whimsy/witchy gf

[ginghamrocks]

masterlist alert! since i plan to reblong more shit i suppose:

animal kingdom:

𑣲⋆｡˚ andrew cody: mondays

𑣲⋆｡˚ andrew cody: leave you alone

𑣲⋆｡˚ andrew cody: coffee breath

𑣲⋆｡˚ andrew cody: drabble alert

harry potter:

𑣲⋆｡˚ mattheo riddle: an eater

others:

𑣲⋆｡˚ rafe cameron: preachers daughter

[homesickly]

andrew cody x slightly odd! reader

a/n: these are just stream of consciousness hcs so i hope u enjoy

warnings: slight smut, fem!reader, she’s a little off but we still love her <3

────୨ৎ────

pope cody loves you and god, you love him. you would crawl into your skin and live there if he let you.

you match each others freaks in the most complimentary way possible. he watches you sleep, shower, and is more then comfortable to sit in the parking lot of your work alert with his back straight for hours on end while you’re on shift.

you hold force him to snuggle with you, shoving his large warm hand in your panties, just to hold your sweet cunt, it’s the only way you can fall asleep after a while ! at first he was a little confused but just learned to go with it.

he’s a little weirded out by your wet specimen kitten in your bedroom. it’s always staring at him ? but you love it so much, he can’t bare to say anything.

you exfoliate his skin once a week, and always make sure his cuticles are trimmed on both his fingers and toes. you diffuse his curls once a week, and he allows you to pluck his eyebrows once a month just to clean them up. he’s like your little doll !

he stares at you. his point of focus is always on you. but one of your favorite games is to take pictures of him when he isn’t looking. while he’s sleeping, cooking, watching a documentary, or making his little focus face you love soooo much when he’s staring at blue prints for the next job.

all the pictures are divided into the following albums: andy’s focus face 𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎, sleepy andy ૮꒰っ˕ -｡꒱ა 🌙, andy at work (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)ゞ. he found them one day when you printed them all out to add you your scrapbook .

in bed he’s always at your service: he’ll eat you out for hours, sitting you up on his face while he devours you like a man starving. he encourages you to be greedy. he craves your manicured nailed pushing his face into your princess cunt, nose nudging your clit while his tongue slips in and out of you. in between your thighs is his favorite place on the planet by far. who are you to deny him his favorite pass time?

you’ve gotten so comfortable with him, you’ll randomly push him onto his back while cuddling or watching tv and mount his face. giving him small praises and lightly stroking his dick. after, you always give him a “good job, andy. made me feel so good :)” he melts.

yeah he’ll do whatever you want. hold your sparkly pink purse while you shop? done. let’s you get tipsy and grind all over him on the dance floor? sure. give him sloppy head because he “looked at you hot”? he was just minding his business but ok.

you have a pet bunny and the bunny hates him. but that’s okay, he’s still a loving stepdad and is determined to make the bunny like him. even if he can’t stand floppy’s attitude and knows the feeling is mutual. he gives floppy treats, brushes her fur, lets her out of the cage for play time, she bites him every time. one time you went into the other room to grab something so he moved to put his face by floppy’s cage and said “if you don’t fucking get your shit together so help me, rabbit i will skin you and make it look like an accident.” him and floppy both know the threats are empty

you came back with a cheery face at them bonding ! your babies getting along ! you take a photo of him holding floppy with a scowl on both of their faces and it’s currently your wallpaper.

speaking of bunnies you absolutely fuck like them. pope is very free use for himself but he wouldn’t dream of touching you without your explicit permission. which is why you always are the one initiating sex, often sitting on his lap and using him to get off whenever you need. he loves when you walk up to him while he’s sitting on the couch reading, or watching something you put on for background noice and get off on his thigh because your cunt was feeling needy. or when you start to stroke him and proceed to cockwarm him while you smush your face into his shoulder and doomscroll.

he especially loves your greedy pussy. you wake up feeling achy after a dream and need him to fuck you nasty at 9:00am ? he died and went to heaven

some people may think you’re taking advantage of him because of how much he dotes on you. but he’s right where he wants to be so don’t try n help him.

────୨ৎ────

[ginghamrocks]

leave you alone

andrew ‘pope’ cody x reader, cw: on and off relationship, semi-toxic relationship, angst (of course), reader knows of pope and his families business, sexual content (i never write it so IGNORE), based off of the song ‘leave you alone’ by jeezy, use as a reference (it makes more sense), again pretty out of character SORRY, happy ending question mark

———

pope cradled you in his arms, his bare biceps against the skin of your back. he subconsciously rubbed your back. your mind raced with thoughts. you enjoyed these times, your apartment reeking of sex and clean laundry as the washing machine finished its cycle. the tv softly played a random movie, pope half watching but not actually paying attention to what is happening.

“we can’t keep doing this.” you stated flatly. pipe didn’t react. he just kept rubbing your back. “you always saying you’re gonna leave me but don’t.” he said back, still watching the tv.

“it’s the cycle of it all, wondering if you’re gonna get hurt, or if i’m gonna get hurt being with you, wondering what you’re doing when your gone.” you sigh, staring at the wall. “i hate how much i need you.”

pope finally looks down at you, kissing the top of your head, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “i know baby, but i gotta do this for us.” he says looking back up at the television. you and pope had gone through this cycle multiple times.

the first time you learned about his family and their business you fought for hours. you cried and yelled, pope just reassured you, never showing much emotion. he knew this day would come, where you would figure it out. the thought of you getting hurt by this haunted him every night, so he prepared for the worst.

but when you kept coming back, the pattern of either of your leaving after fighting and then ending back at each others places, using your bodies as apologies. happening time and time again where you would always end up in each others arms.

“i know you’re bad.” you said between breaths, pope climbed up on top of you, pinning your hands above your head as he slams into you. “but i want you bad.”

but now thinking about it, you never really could get over him. though he did bad things, made you question if your were going crazy, and constantly had you on edge, there was something there that you could never quite leave alone.

maybe it was the way he took care of you so well, he understood your wants and needs, prioritizing you over jobs and his own family, even if he wasn’t supposed to. maybe it was the way you never had to worry about rent or money, the stability you craved for so long. maybe it was the way he would show you and only you the soft parts of himself, something broken that craved to be fixed by your touch, your words, your actions.

he made you feel a way no man had ever made you feel, like you were the only important thing and nothing else mattered when you were together. in the quiet moments of you reading a book, pope doing the dishes while music played in the back. the times where you felt so loved and appreciated, popes head in your arms, his arms wrapped around your waist, him mumbling praises quietly as he kisses your stomach every now and then.

but you were logical. understood that one day being involved with him might put you and your family in danger, but the thought of leaving would also put you in danger. pope understood your frustrations, he took your anger because he understood the complexity of this situation.

pope carefully moved off of the bed, putting his clothing back on. as the night crawled in, so did jobs. you watched as he put everything back on, then kissed your head before leaving.

days passed and neither of you said a word to each other. pope never liked to push because he knew it would only make it worse, but he tended to overthink. he remembered all the time you said you would leave him, all the tears you shed, thinking this may be the time it’s true.

after a week pope had enough, he walked into your apartment with the spare key you gave him. after he gently closed the door, he saw you on the deck, mug between your hands, looking at the view. he slid open the door, and watched as you did not react.

he sat next to you, sitting in comfortable silence. you handed him the mug, filled with still partially warm tea. he took a small sip before setting it back on the glass table with a small thud.

he watched you for a moment, still not saying a word. “makes me so sad.” you paused for a moment, “but i gotta leave you alone.” he shifted slightly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i can’t keep doing this.” you said finally looking at him. you weren’t sad, you weren’t angry, that’s what scared him the most.

“i know.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “but i can’t think of a world without you.” your face shifted slightly, something only he would notice. the way your eyelids closed just a bit more, your jaw tightened.

you both didn’t say anything for a long time, sitting in each others presence, just holding eye contact. he leaned in closely, pressing his forehead against yours. he waited a moment before kissing you, long and softly. there was a quiet understanding that day, maybe you finally understood that life without pope wasn’t possible, and you accepted that.

———

another short one kay…anyway i think i like this. I LOBE THIS SONG #fire #heat #listenoryouwillexplode

[ginghamrocks]

i still hate mondays

andrew ‘pope’ cody x reader. no use of y/n. lowkey they both got their own issues, i can’t write anything but angst!!!!! 😂😂😂😂 cw: angry, drinking, mentions of intoxication, angst (duh!), ethel cain lyrics alert! might be out of character cuz im still getting into the show but pope is rotting my brain

———

“it’s not sustainable, but it’s just traditional.”

pope knew he had his own issues, he understood that he couldn’t quite pick up on emotions as well, nor show them very well. at first you thought that this would be good. growing up with angry parents, violence was not uncommon. pope never showed that side of himself, at least to you.

pope constantly shielded you from the horrors of his life, a tradition that had been passed from generation to generation. the hate in his heart that was passed down from his mother to him. he always promised himself that he would get better, that one day he would be able to leave this life, and enter a new one with you.

pope also knew you had your own horrors to deal with, similarly to you, you had grown up around parents who were selfish, making you scrape by while the house was flooded with anger and intoxication. but the difference was that you were emotional. not in the sense where you would cry and breakdown (though that too at times...), your main issue was controlling your anger.

anger was one of the only emotions that stayed in your house. when your mom had to decide to use money for drugs or for the air conditioning and you didn’t have the money to pay for it, well the screaming match lasted for hours.

being taught by the best, your parents, you never struggled with showing your emotions but more so struggling to keep your emotions in.

you and pope stood in the apartment you were renting. the smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, as well as faint sparkles spread around his clothes.

“look baby you’re blowing this way out of proportion.” pope reassured you, but the way his speech was lazy and you could faintly smell perfume on him, you knew you weren’t.

“don’t look at me like that.” you said back, the look in his eye that he thought you were being dramatic, that him and his brothers went to the strip club. another woman’s hands all over him. the thought of it made you sick.

“like what baby.” he almost slurred. he watched as you bit the inside of your cheek. a habit you had picked up from your father. he remembered you telling him that. the way your jaw clenched. maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn’t see a problem.

“it was one dance, we didn’t do anything. you’re being…” he paused for a moment. as if he were gathering his words, his head pounding.

“i’m being what. i’m being what andrew.” he shifted uncomfortably. he was tired and drowsy, he didn’t quite know what was going on, nor did he really remember what happened just a couple hours ago.

“you’re being crazy you acting like i had…” he continued talking but it faded to background noise. crazy. the word got hated hearing, especially from pope. he watched you, noticing your face, your body language. something quietly clicking in his mind.

“i can be crazy, if you want crazy.” he watched as you walked out of the apartment door, the sledgehammer leaning against the wall going along with you. pope was frozen for a moment, before it registered what you were going to do. “oh shit.”

you walked outside, going down the stairs at a fascinating pace, pope drunkly following you, tripping his own feet. he almost caught up to you, until he fell, sobering him up some.

he ran after you, his heart pounding. “baby no i didn’t mean it please, nothing happened.” he tried, but his thoughts were clouded with the clear understanding of what he did and what he said.

the dodge sat parked in the street, other cars farther away, perfect. raising the hammer up above your head, you were about to slam down before pope finally caught up and stopped you.

“please.” he begged. his features softer now, the obvious signs of drunkenness now mostly gone. “it’s not about the car it’s about you. i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry.” he said grabbing the hammer, tossing it onto the ground.

he looked at you, his hands hovering for a second before grabbing your face. your mascara running down your face. tears of anger he could tell. he wiped your face gently. “i promise you nothing happened, i was too out of it-“ his breath hitched. “hit the fucking car if you want, i don’t care.”

the guiltiness on his face said it all. “are you angry still?” he asked, his voice was soft, was the softest you’ve ever heard.

you looked at him, your eyebrows furrowing. “well hell yeah i fucking am.” he only nodded in response, cradling you in his arms. you paused for a moment, then thought. “you called my crazy, i’m not fucking crazy.” you said as you pushed him off of you.

“won’t be seen with you, this is embarrassing.” you said wiping your cheeks. “i refuse to have you play in my face then expect me to be okay.” you said walking towards the stairs. pope watched you, understanding the gravity of his actions.

“a bad case of the mondays with no silver lining.”

————

ok hi this was short ngl but i have to open at work (5 am) and it’s currently almost 1 am….so i wanted to finish this but this fic was digging a hole in my brain i NEEDED to write. ok bye

[ginghamrocks]

an eater, i need her

alcoholic!mattheo riddle x stoner!reader

cw: smoking and drinking (obviously), angst, addiction, depression, & toxic relationship. no use of y/n!!!

(i’m super fried and this popped in my head and i felt like a fucking wizard let’s fucking go.)

———

mattheo drank to forget who he was. to forget what he looked like, who he acted like, what ran through his veins. he drank to calm the thoughts that constantly consumed him. the burn of the alcohol was the reminder that there was always a solution waiting in a glass bottle. even just a moment to slip out of reality he would take it.

he knew the amount of cologne he put on wouldn’t cover the reek of vodka that probably covered him. though no girls seemed to mind. everyone who he had gotten with had used him for what they wanted and ignored the alcohol on his breath, and the slur of his words. it was normal for him to be this way. his friends thought he just took a bit much and he would be fine. there was no worry that his overconsumption was an actual problem.

꩜ .ᐟ

the bass of the music played in mattheo’s ears rhythmically. the buzz of voices over voices felt calming in a sense. the cheap vodka burned his throat as he threw back shot after shot. he felt disoriented and loose. that’s how he liked it. he felt lorenzo grab his shoulder and say something but the air felt so warm, it was distracting.

mattheo made a journey around the party. the lights were dim and moody, every face he saw looked wrong. people didn’t seem like people. mattheo felt the sick urge to go outside. the smell of alcohol and sweat filled the already hot room, it was unbearable.

he made his way out to the cool spring night. the grass growing in patchy and green, the night air smelt refreshing but only for a moment. he then smelt something familiar, the smell of weed clouded his mind. he was on a mission to find it.

he walked around the building, he found couples making out, cigarette smokers, yet couldn’t find what he was looking for. he followed the scent, the thick smoke, and the sound of giggling until he found it. there he saw you and blaise playing baseball with a blunt. blaise greeted mattheo, but all mattheo could look at was you.

maybe it was vodka, but the light shined so perfectly on you. he felt something he had never felt before. awe? he was in awe. you inhaled the smoke, your eyes drooping slightly. blaise’s eyes seemed a lot more red then yours and you just seemed so perfect. he sat next to you quietly, taking another drink from his cup.

he watched as you and blaise conversed so easily, the smooth words spilled from your mouth so effortlessly it felt like he was just watching from afar. mattheo had known of you. one of blaise’s friends that he would buy weed from on occasion. but he had never seen you. or really seen you. he had seen you chat with blaise or your friends, seen you in class with your eyes blank, and had seen you get your ass beat in quidditch then you never played again.

but he had never seen you. he watched as you and blaise talked about hobbies, friendships, relationships, everything and nothing at the same time. he watched you and him make the same inside joke so many times yet mattheo never understood but would chuckle everytime you had said it.

everything felt like a fever dream to him. one second he closed his eyes next he felt some movement, then he found himself on a couch in the commons. he was laying next to blaise and you were on the other side. you had your legs perched up on the couch, knees to your chest. head resting on your kneecaps.

you noticed him looking at you. he had sobered up slightly. the world wasn’t spinning anymore which was something. as mattheo sobered up he realized he felt so weird being here. like he didn’t belong here. he didn’t know you, maybe he was interrupting? mattheo looked around, somewhere to escape to. he needed another drink. reality was becoming too real. blaise noticed mattheos sudden shift, as did you.

“you okay man?” he asked. blaise’s voice a bit more raspy before but more relaxed.

“yeah yeah, i’m great. i think i’ll head out, i don’t know why i stayed so long.” he chuckled almost nervously.

“aw come on mattheo, don’t leave.” you smiled up at him. he felt his heart sink slightly. a stomach drop. “you’re not intruding.” you said again. he looked at you, he noticed a roll in between your fingers, perhaps for later. he also noticed a bottle of alcohol placed on the coffee table. the hard liquor barely touched. he felt his heart pounding through his chest. he knew he shouldn’t drink. but…he couldn’t help himself.

꩜ .ᐟ

that morning he found himself in his dorm, blaise being his roommate and all. the room felt cold, colder then normal, and there was a certain aroma in the air. he looked towards the window, it was cracked open, leading to the fire escape. he stumbled out of bed, his head throbbing. he poked his head out the window to see you and blaise side by side, you rolling up. “hey mattheo” you greeted without looking up.

mattheo went out onto the fire escape, making sure to leave the window cracked, or else they would all be locked out. classes were only hours away yet the roll was passed around, one after another. mattheo didn’t mind weed but only smoked to watch you. the way you coughed maybe once while he on the other hand coughed every hit. you could tell he was more of a drinker than a smoker.

the smell burned his nostrils. mattheo liked when you were high. it felt more comfortable, more natural for conversation.

꩜ .ᐟ

he found himself in your dorm every night. his bottle in his hand. your blunt in yours. the only time he found himself with you is when he was drunk. when the alcohol stopped burning his throat and the weed smell was the strongest. if he wasn’t drunk he would avoid you like the plague. and vise versa.

he felt his hands along your side. you could taste the alcohol on his tongue. soft music played in the back. he felt greedy, taking you away from anyone you had ever liked. he noticed you eyed different guys at different times yet he wouldn’t let you. any guy that had looked you way stopped once mattheo made up his mind.

you and him sat on your bed. he felt his head getting heavy, drooping down. you laid back on the bed, feeling your body twitch. mattheo looked at you.

“i only want you when im drunk. but you should be with anyone but me.” he said it so casually. he felt in his drunken mind that he was right. that this was the right solution. you looked at him.

“i only want you when im high, yet i’m always high. so i guess i always want you.” your hands balled up into fists. the summer air blowing in from the window, the wind chime hanging next to the window swinging, the bells swaying. mattheo looked over to you. his body slouched. he got up and walked out of the room.

“dude what’s going on with you and her?” draco had asked mattheo. his face stern and judgmental. “nothing, she just has the goods that all.” he said so casually. his head rest on the palm of his hand, the first time he hadn’t been drunk in months. draco scoffed. “yeah right, you guys are always together, you always watch her from afar, and scare off anyone that comes near her.”

mattheo rolled his eyes. “i’m breaking it off soon. no more drinking, i swear.” he put his hands up. just one more thing he had to deal with.

꩜ .ᐟ

love us together, an eater, i need her. i need her.

the half drunken broken bottle lay on the ground along with the bud on the ground. small drips of blood on the floor. mattheos hand cut open from the glass. his body shaking. you sat on the bed, your knees up to your chest. a protective stance. “please baby i didn’t mean to please don’t be mad at me.” he placed his hands on the sides of your head.

he saw the mascara running down your face, the way the tears fell down your face was so beautiful. “please don’t cry.” he wiped your tears.

“get out.” you stated. he looked in your eyes but all he could see was fear. “get the hell out mattheo.” he stroked your hair. “you just need to smoke that’s all, that all you need baby. you just need to calm down.” you pulled his hands of you, bloody residue left on your face. “you have issues, you need to get out.” he could visibly see you shaking, his face got red.

“i have issues? you smoke two, three, even four times a day but I have issues? god you’re so pathetic.” he wiped his hands off on his jeans. “you can’t be talking, we both know that what you’re doing is just as bad as me if not worse.” he laughed coldly. “you’ll fall apart without me.” he said as he walked out of the door.

꩜ .ᐟ

months after, mattheo never saw you and in turn he never drank. he felt guilty for putting his friends, putting you through his alcoholism. he sat at a party, soda in his cup as he talked to his friends. “i’ll be back, i need another drink.” he said walking outside to where all the sodas were.

the balcony was decorated nicely, the breath of fresh air was refreshing. he reached down toward the box till he noticed a figure in the corner of his eye. he saw you, staring out the night sky. he couldn’t smell any weed. you drank what looked like water from your cup.

you looked up at him. and for a moment everything paused. you seemed brighter, more lively. mattheo hoped he looked the same way. the red light from inside was plastered on his face. he felt his face flush. you looked at him saying nothing. but deep down you wanted to say something.

all you could come up with was a nod. he nodded back. he waited for a moment before disappearing back into the crowded party. he felt that he was almost in slow motion. he breathed a sigh of relief. a knowing in a way.

———

so is it obvious that i don’t drink and use a yart yes or no (it’s yes) lowkey i had more planned for this fic but i got lazy k anyway.

also the ending is in fact inspired by la la land…

K BYE

[ginghamrocks]

rafe cameron x preachers daughter!reader

cw: religious themes, fighting, alluded abuse, no actual scenes containing such, angst, death, drinking, very out of character. no use of y/n.

———————————————————————-

“you’re a big girl now, no more daddy’s little girl.” your mother said as she shushed you quietly. the funeral was silent besides the sounds of crying and soft pitiful music. the crowd felt like a blur, the mumbling of apologies and sorrowful words meant nothing in that moment.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

you sat in the front row along with your mother, the echoes of your fathers words cast along the ears of the those who sat across the benches. though you and your family were considered pogues, the church your father ran was attended by both pogues and kooks. one of the only places that brought both together. you watched as your father scanned the crowd, he recognized most of the crowd, as did you. the room was warm, soggy almost. the humidity made it feel like you were drowning, maybe you were.

well it at least felt like you were.

being taught to follow God and his ways when your father is a preacher can be a lot. it was drilled into the moment you could vaguely understand. the bible sat on your nightstand every night. the constant taunt of your sins rang in your head as your read it, or listened to your father in church, or even when you would stare at the cross upon your wall. wondering if any mistake would take you to hell. your father held those mistakes above your head. which is why in any sense you would try to appease him in any way. your mother taught you to do so, to keep you out of harms way.

“God you’re such a daddy’s girl! it’s so pathetic.” a group of bullies said. though just in elementary school, you could understand that socially, you would probably never fit in. the ticking time bomb of the understanding from classmates was just waiting. once they figured out that you had to cut school for church, had to read the bible every night, pray almost at a constant, and maintain the perfect image of your father and his church. no wonder your classmates would get freaked out, scared to be associated with you, they didn’t want to get dragged into whatever mess you came with.

you kept your head down. maintained good grades, never talked unless spoken to. the conditioning that was pounding into you, if ever caught slipping up…well God couldn’t save you now.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

rafe watched the back of your head, like daggers came out of his eyes. his jaw clenched, hands in fists. rafe didn’t understand why he had to be here, let alone in pogue territory at all. his father felt as rafe did some terrible things. in hopes that God could somehow “fix him.” it was no surprise that rafe had done some bad things in the eye of the lord. drinking, drugs, lying, stealing, along with many other sins.

he sat in the back arms crossed. he knew you. he had seen you throughout school, exiled most of your life. he was also too scared to associate with you, in case you decide to shout prayers at him. deep down he could understand you in a way. being forced to do things in order to follow the family guidelines, he had to do the same. his was by choice though, yours was strictly survival.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

after your father ended his preaching, your mother would go around socializing. you would walk around too, quietly nodding at the people you knew, a polite smile upon your face.

your church dress was brown, covered your knees, thankfully. even as a kid you would bruise easily, your father learned that quickly. the long shirts and pants stayed with you for your whole life, perhaps would continue to be.

you scouted the crowd until you felt a hand land on your shoulder. your felt yourself jump. you turned around half expecting your father but instead you see ward cameron, rafe behind him. they both loomed over, it was daunting.

ward looked nervous, embarrassed almost. “um, hello dear uh..i assume you’ve met my son, rafe.” he pulled rafe closer. he had a nice jacket on but could see the sweat pouring down his face. “rafe has need some..rehabilitation. he’s gone down a dark path and needs a bit of help. do you think your father could help?” he questioned.

you nodded quietly, “i’m sure he could, he’s the best with guidance.” you saw wards sigh of relief. you guided them to your father. they conversed quietly. yet you noticed the glances from rafe. you and him had go to school together since you were kids. he was an asshole to most people but the look in his eye when you met gazes, it was slightly softer, broken.

the whole island had heard of rafes outbursts, the rage built inside of him, the rebellion. it didn’t take a genius to know something was wrong with him but to your understanding it was just him being misunderstood time and time again.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

next thing you knew rafe showed up to your house every monday and wednesday. stayed for dinner, saw the picture perfect family. you and rafe sat in the living room, your mother out to the store, your father left to preach. rafe looked up at you as you have scanned the bible, he noticed the bruises upon your knees. peaking out of the cotton fabric of your dress.

he examined quietly. “what happened?” he questioned. you looked up at him then down at the bruises, quickly covering them. “nothing, just fell that’s all.” he raised an eyebrow. “thou shall not lie.” he stated, almost flatly. you couldn’t tell how he would react or how he was feeling and that terrified you.

“i pray for a long time everyday, multiple times a day. if he doesn’t think i prayed hard enough then i have sit there till he’s ready for bed.” you spoke softly. he could hear the crack in your voice. rafes expression softened slightly.

you shot up looking at him. with hesitation you spoke. “did i creep you out?” he could hear the quiver of your lip. he shook his head. “could say i’ve been through similar treacheries.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。

the fire was blasphemous. the town spoke in whispers, about how only the devil could do this to such a holy home. and kill the saint of this town.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

rafe sat in his bedroom, bible sitting on his nightstand, staring into his soul. he never really believed he could be saved, no one, not even God could forgive what he had done. he heard the door bell ringing in his ear as he stared into the leather binding. he shot up once he realized what he had been hearing. no one was home but him, just another day alone with his thoughts. he thought maybe his father had forgotten the keys again.

he opened the door to see you in the calm darkness. your arms hugging yourself as a sign of comfort. you weren’t even supposed to be out. he noticed the shake of your startled body. so fragile looking, he fear you would break under his gaze.

you stared up at him. “i- um well i-.” you spat out. you looked agitated. he noticed your neck was red, your eyes watery, a small trace of blood on your nostrils. he immediately noticed and let you inside. you sat on the couch in silence for what felt like forever until he spoke up. “what happened.” you shook your head. “i don’t want to talk about it.” you sighed.

he nodded. you let him grab some supplies from the bathroom, he watched as you cleaned yourself up. he grabbed you some clean clothes from the closet and set them down. “do you need to stay here?” he questioned without hesitation. you thought for a moment then nodded. “he got drunk. first time in years.” you started.

he sat next to you, listening silently. you bit the nail of your thumb. “he used to have a drinking problem, many years ago, before he turned to God. i don’t know what happened.” he placed his hand on top of yours. you stared at him. “he got mad, said i was the devil. that he had to cast the sins out of me.” you shook. “maybe he’s right.” you felt tears running down your face.

he slowly placed his hands on your shoulders. “you are no devil. there’s nothing wrong with you.” you collapsed into his arms. your sobbed until you couldn’t breathe properly.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

you stood at the podium, in front of the crowd of people at the funeral. you spoke with a shaking voice. “you always taught me i could only leave you, once we were both dead.” your mother shot her head up, fury on her face. you spoke again. “my father was not the saint of this town, he took his sins and blamed the world for them, blamed me for them.” you felt your face get hot.

“oh lord take my father where he deserves. may the devil hold him in his arms, may he rot in hell.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。

rafe woke up the next morning. he saw you still in his bed, sleeping quietly. he heard a knock on his bedroom door. he opened it to see ward. his face was hot, sweaty. “rafe, the preachers house was caught on fire, the preacher and his-“ he stopped mid sentence when he saw you on the bed. “oh my god.” he ran to the bed and shook you.

you shot up immediately. “oh honey, why are you here?” your eyes bloodshot. “i- it was dark, i was too far from my house. rafe offered to let me stay, hope that was fine.” he sniffled. “it’s fine but..honey your father died in a house fire last night.” the words pierced through your ears. all sounds muffling together.

rafe sat next to you putting his arms around you. everything felt like a blur. the return to your mother. the screams to you, imagining that this was all your fault. all her fault. all the devils fault. the late nights drinking outside in the apartment balcony.

rafe was with you the whole time way. he understood you more than you knew yourself. even the holiest of men couldn’t escape the truth of their sins.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

you sat down quietly, the whole church quiet now. rafe grabbed your hand quietly. the bravery of truth felt so surreal. that day it felt as the lords shined down onto you.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

a/n: hey chat lowkey HATE this ending but i just wanted to get this out atp. i had no idea what to do so IGNORE IGNORE IGNORE.