#and his determination in andrew | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

odoraful · 8 months ago

Text

𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒

even in their relationship with you, they still have their moments of jealousy every now and again

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; established relationship; luke & kieran appearance in sylus’ scene; new receptionist in zayne's scene; andrew appearance in xavier's scene; a little silly and a lot fluffy; 0.8–1k words per scene

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ZAYNE ⟡

Every situation requires an assessment to determine the most logical course of action. Zayne embodied this statement in his work, and even in parts of his relationship with you. One such part was when it came to jealousy. In all his assessments, 99% of the time, there was no threat, and, therefore, no intervention required. In any case, if a guy were to approach you in such a way, he trusted you entirely as well to not entertain him. However, as he opened his office door to call you from the waiting room, he was confronted by that 1%.

The new receptionist hired to work alongside Yvonne was young, charming, and far too friendly. Especially towards you. You stopped by quite regularly. Sometimes for your scheduled check-in appointments, and oftentimes to simply visit Zayne during his downtime. That was enough for the young man to recognise you, his energy ignited by your presence.

Zayne could only see your side profile as you stood by the receptionist desk, engaged in a conversation with the young man. You appeared to be all smiles with him today. Whatever story he was telling seemed to be so thrilling. Zayne’s face remained calm, aside from the twitch of his jaw when he clenched his teeth. If anybody had been watching, they would have likely jumped at such a sign of vexation by the cardiac surgeon.

Until that point, he thought he had known what jealousy was. He had read it in books and seen it in TV shows, all of which portrayed jealousy leading to several outbursts and stand-offs. However, as he felt something rising from the pit of his stomach and burning in his chest, he understood that the purest kind of it now flared inside him. It was a dangerous emotion that clouded his mind and, before he knew it, his feet had carried him right to your side.

Mr. Chatterbox regarded Zayne with disbelief at his approach, standing up to properly greet him.

“Doc! What a rare sight seeing you personally greet a patient at the desk.”

Zayne paid only a cursory glance and the slightest nod of acknowledgement to him before his attention was narrowed on you.

“If you’d like to come in now, Y/N,” Zayne said, his voice smooth and warm.

You nodded. “Of course.”

As you walked, he placed his hand at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him by just a fraction. He turned his head to the side, enough so the young man could see his sharp eyes. Zayne wasn’t one for outbursts, so he hoped this calculated display was enough of a warning.

Watching Dr. Zayne disappear with you into his office, the receptionist muttered to himself, “Why does it feel chillier in here than before?”

Yvonne, a bystander to everything that just occurred, quietly approached her freshly hired colleague from behind. She delt a swift smack on his head with the edge of her palm. He yelped out in exaggerated pain, rubbing at the spot as if she had just given him a bruise.

“Could you be anymore oblivious…” she sighed, shaking her head. Her gaze then turned fiery as she began to scold, “And how many times have I told you to stop yammering around patients!?”

At the sound of Yvonne’s voice, he immediately redirected his efforts. Not even addressing his colleague’s prior criticism, he clasped his hands together.

“Miss Yvonne! How are you doing on this lovely–”

“Fax this, please,” she interrupted, holding a referral letter up directly to his face.

He gave a mock shiver, taking the paper from Yvonne’s hand. “So cold in this division.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“It seemed like you were making good conversation with our new hire,” Zayne commented, closing the door behind him.

You breathed a laugh. “He’s quite chatty. I guess it’s good to have someone so energetic working at the desk.”

That sensation within Zayne turned molten, though, you couldn’t have known with the coolness of his palm. What would be his intervention here? Maybe he needed to have a stern conversation with the young man, or perhaps he had to be more obvious in his affections towards you. He could never match the energy the receptionist had, so it would be impossible to achieve such a feat.

In his momentary stewing, you let out an uncertain hum.

“To be honest, he kept talking about himself... it was a little overwhelming,” you confessed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “I couldn’t be impolite to him, so I just smiled and nodded at whatever he said!”

Instantly, Zayne’s mind cleared. His jealousies dwindled into nothing more than ashes. A part of him even felt silly at how intense he was feeling just a few seconds ago.

Unexpectedly, he rested his head on your shoulder with a sigh. Your eyes widened with confusion before you chuckled.

“Isn’t this a bit unprofessional, doctor?” you teased.

“Feel free to file a complaint to the hospital’s human resource division,” he retorted, not missing a beat.

Your mirth readily turned into concern at the affectionate display.

“But seriously, Zayne, is everything okay?” you asked, poking at his cheek.

Zayne lifted his head. He seemed to be, surprisingly, relieved. Though, you couldn’t figure out what exactly he would be relieved about.

“Yes, everything is perfect now.”

SYLUS ⟡

There was nothing that a deathly glare or a good shove couldn’t do to resolve Sylus’ jealousy. Warding off any unsuspecting parties was his speciality, especially if it involved them getting too close to you. However, the leader of Onychinus was thrown for a loop when his very own henchmen were sparking these feelings.

“You are… going out with Y/N today?” Sylus spoke slowly, as if sounding out syllables to a baby. “Is what I’m hearing correct, Luke?”

Kieran not-so-subtly kicked Luke in the shin. Luke stifled a groan. Rather than be on their way to Linkon (and to you), they were here being confronted by the boss. It was an unfortunate slip-up from Luke as they were about to leave, which caused Sylus to sternly halt their exit.

“Yes, boss.” Luke replied, trying to stand up straighter with only one good shin.

“And for what reason exactly?” Sylus asked.

Luke resignedly sighed.

“They wanted someone to–”

“Help clean their apartment!” Kieran quickly finished.

He turned and gave a pointed glare to his twin brother. You better follow along, it seemed to threaten.

Luke began nodding profusely, “Yep! Gosh, boss, you wouldn’t even believe the mess!”

“This type of menial work was probably too peasantry for you–”

“So, they invited us instead!”

Sylus’ henchmen stood there, looking quite proud of themselves and their innocent display. Sylus rolled his eyes at their dramatics. Luke and Kieran could do any task Sylus asked, no matter how dirty, and yet they were quite terrible at lying. Maybe he needed to teach them some skills in deception later. He dismissed them sharply with a wave of his hand.

“Go. Make sure to return before I leave this evening.”

The henchmen bowed, preparing to scurry away, but before they could, Sylus spoke again,

“Don’t take your eyes off them for even a second, do you understand?”

They turned back to Sylus and nodded, bowing once again.

“And–”

Sylus’ continual interruption of their exit left them in an awkward position right at the threshold of his office.

“–they don’t enjoy mopping, so I trust one of you will play the gentleman and take up that task.”

“You got it, boss.” Luke and Kieran said in unison before finally departing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sylus was planning on sleeping before your date in the evening, but that was completely out of the question now.

Hanging out with Luke and Kieran? To, supposedly, clean? He knew what they had told him was a lie. However, a small, burning part of him was frustrated. If that had been the truth, he naturally would have been the far better partner. With the time you had shared together, surely you had not so quickly found his own company lacklustre in comparison to his henchmen. He could have been in your apartment, with you, cleaning together. Instead, he was in his mansion, alone, and grumpy. Grumpy enough to open his tablet, and switch to his camera feeds connected to Mephisto.

He had asked if his skilled companion could do a bit of reconnaissance at your apartment to confirm what this ragtag trio were doing. As the camera feed loaded, he saw that your home was empty. Internally, he cursed. Mephisto flew down to street level, and, as luck would have it, three familiar people stepped out of the apartment complex. Luke and Kieran were there (wearing face masks and caps that disguised their faces as opposed to their crow masks) along with you.

Sylus sat up in his bed.

He followed this trio as they walked to a nearby clothing store. Unfortunately, it would be considered odd for a crow to be indoors, so all Mephisto could do was perch atop a bench in front of the establishment and watch the three of you retreat inside behind the automatic glass doors.

Tossing the tablet aside onto the silk sheets, Sylus crossed him arms. If the thought of not being able to clean with you had made him grumpy, then seeing that he was not invited to shop for clothes with you truly made his blood boil with jealousy. As he attempted to get some rest, he thought about casual ways to mention on this evening’s date how he could rent out entire department stores for you if you wanted.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sylus tapped his dress shoes rhythmically against the floor, awaiting your door to be opened after he had rung the bell. He had arrived at exactly 5 o’clock to pick you up, and although he was always well put together, he put in a little extra effort on his hair this time.

He heard the door unlock, slowly opening to only reveal your head poking out. He cocked his head to the side.

“Sweetie, are you trying to hide from me?”

“Mmm, think of it more like I’m building anticipation,” you explained with a grin on your face.

Sylus laughed fondly. He leaned his own head against the wall beside the doorframe, turning to look at you.

“Consider me sufficiently anticipated,” he replied. “Now, may I see you?”

You gestured for him to move back so you could give a grand reveal.

“I just bought this today.”

The door swung open, and you stepped outside.

“How do I look?”

Very little could surprise Sylus; however, you had utterly blindsided him in this moment. You were wearing a dress that Sylus didn’t recognise from your current wardrobe. He knew then that the outing with Luke and Kieran had been to surprise him with a new dress for your date.

Flowy, ruby fabric draped against your figure, reaching down to your ankles. His eyes followed the heart-shaped neckline that framed the pearl necklace that rested at your collarbones, matching the accessory in your hair. All this prepared just for him.

“You look absolutely radiant,” he breathed.

Closing the distance, he snaked a hand around you, toying with the smooth material under his warm fingertips. Seeing how gorgeous you were almost alleviated his earlier frustrations, until he came to a sour realisation.

“Though, I can’t help but be… annoyed that Luke and Kieran saw this surprise before me.”

You bit your lip. Of course, Sylus had figured out what his henchmen were doing throughout the day. His voice grew deeper as his lips brushed against your ear.

“Next time, kitten, you should invite me to go with you instead.”

XAVIER ⟡

It took very little to spark Xavier’s jealousy, as much as the man himself would want to deny it. Strangers, colleagues, and acquaintances could cause his unassuming appearance to transform into a hostile front if they got too friendly with you. But today was another ordinary workday, so there would surely be no situation where Xavier should feel such a way.

There had been a string of quiet days at the Hunters Association that meant that Team Alpha could finally make use of their office. Namely you and Xavier, who usually were assigned to field missions. Your neglected chair squeaked under your weight as you stretched your body, lifting your arms high into the air then relaxing. Twirling the pen in your hand, the words on page about recent energy fluctuations seemed to swirl in your vision. Xavier turned from his own desk to observe you.

“I’m going to get a drink from the vending machine.” He stood up, the wheels of his chair clattering against the hard floor. “Do you want one too?”

“Green tea, please,” you replied.

“Warm or cold?”

“Cold,” you decided. You clapped your hands against your face, squishing your cheeks. “I need to shock my system to wake it up.”

Xavier’s face broke into a smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”

Before he could walk away, a voice called out your name.

“Morning Y/N!”

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly at the approaching man.

He was tall (though not as tall as himself), with ashy hair precisely tousled to reveal his forehead, and friendly eyes. Xavier’s senses heightened in the same way as they would in a battle with a Wanderer. The unfamiliar man had greeted you with such familiarity. Only two words had been spoken, yet it was enough to irk Xavier. If he had called you less kindly, that would have helped to lower his guard.

To his surprise, the man turned his attention towards him.

“Ah, you must be Xavier! I’ve heard much about you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Andrew, head of the Data Analysis sector.”

Xavier stared at Andrew’s hand for a moment—blinking and discerning. Head of Data Analysis… Is this some kind of power move? He gave the hand a brusque shake.

“Excuse me, I need to get some drinks for the two of us,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away to the office’s break room.

Andrew furrowed his brows as he watched Xavier leave.

“Quite elusive, isn’t he?”

You shook your head.

“Maybe when you first meet him. But once you get to know him, you’ll see just how reliable he is.”

The tenderness in your tone came unconsciously to you, but it always happened when you spoke about Xavier to others. Especially towards those who might misinterpret his neutral disposition.

Small talk continued over the next minute between you and Andrew, until he suddenly looked at you with a slight frown.

“There’s an eyelash on your face,” he said, pointing vaguely to the left side of your face.

You used your fingers to swipe across your skin, yet Andrew still shook his head.

“No, no. It’s right here.”

He brought his finger closer to show you exactly where it was.

The dull thud of plastic bottles falling to the ground could be heard a couple of metres beside you. A blinding light zipped through the air, alongside a gust of air that swept your hair back. Before you could even register what had caused this phenomenon, Xavier appeared between you and Andrew. Your wide eyes stared at his hand gripping Andrew’s wrist.

“Xavier?” you called in surprise.

Xavier seemed equally shocked at how instinctually he acted. One moment he had seen Andrew’s hand move closer to your face, and the next he was face-to-face with him.

“I-I don’t know what came over me.” He released Andrew from his iron hold. “I'm really sorry”.

With a small bow, Xavier braced himself, ready to receive the full brunt of anger from the Head of Data Analysis. He shuddered at the thought that this might be reported to Captain Jenna. Instead, Andrew shook his head calmly.

“Don’t worry about it.” He gave an understanding smile, observing your worried expression towards Xavier. “In fact, I do believe this was my bad.”

The abandoned green tea bottles rolled lazily beside the desks, and Andrew picked them up. “I’ll be heading off to my office now, I’ll see you two later.”

Handing the drinks to you and Xavier, you both expressed your thanks. As Andrew left, you turned to Xavier.

“Xavier,” you spoke slowly, “what exactly was that?”

He scratched his head and diverted his eyes from you.

“I saw he was getting too close, and my body moved faster than my head…”

It was hard not to react at how adorably guilty he looked.

What am I going to do with you? You thought, sighing in affectionate amusement.

“I know how it must have looked from afar, but there was just an eyelash on my face that Andrew was trying to point out,” you explained.

Again, you swiped a finger across your face. “I still don’t know where it is though.”

Your movements were halted as Xavier gently grasped your wrist. He leaned in close, examining your face. You felt his light touch against your eyelids as he took off the lash.

“You know, there’s a superstition about this,” he began, handing the lash to you.

“They say if you have a stray eyelash, you can use it to make a wish.”

He cleared his throat, the tips of his ears turning red believing his next words to perhaps sound a little childish.

“So, I wanted to be the one who would give you that wish.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

Rafayel’s jealousy would make itself known to you the moment he felt it. Though he would hide it between clever, teasing remarks, it was cute to see how clingy he got when it happened. And there was no better situation to provoke such feelings than at a gala hosted by Flux Arts. Admittedly, it was difficult to get the artist himself to attend these gatherings that featured one of his own paintings, so Thomas had to devise a convincing reason for him to go. That reason, naturally, being you. If you were his plus one, Rafayel could certainly face any battle.

You stood in front of Rafayel’s painting now as he had left you for the moment to speak with Thomas. Even after being exposed to his work many times (both mid progress and completed) they still managed to instil awe within you.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The voice pulled you back into the room, and you looked over at the stranger beside you. He appeared to be slightly older and was likely a wealthy, enthusiastic patron of the gala.

“Yes, it is,” you agreed. “It’s one of my favourites.”

In truth, you favoured it because you were there when Rafayel painted it. From start to finish, he had you at his side. Though abstract, upon closer inspection, one could extrapolate details of a city with glorious towers and vibrant, thriving coral. It held a special place in your heart.

The man’s eyes were glued to the painting.

“Rafayel truly is an artist you get once in a lifetime.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in the gentleman’s compliment.

“It’s hypnotising to witness the scenes he creates,” he continued. “He seems to bare his soul in each painting.”

“He is quite an expressive man,” you commented, breathing a small laugh.

From picking out the perfect outfits to the perfect paint materials, passion infused every part of Rafayel’s life, including in his relationship with you. It was one of his greatest traits you adored about him.

The familiarity in your tone was lost on the man, who believed you to only be an admirer of the artist, and not an admirer of a different sort.

The conversation continued, and you discovered the man to be a professor of history. He had discovered Rafayel through his own interest in ancient civilisations such as Lemuria. You couldn’t help but beam with pride listening to the man speak so highly of Rafayel, and the impression his works had left on him. The man soon took his leave, thanking you for entertaining his enthusiastic ramblings.

You were so engrossed that you didn’t notice Rafayel with his arms folding behind you. He graciously gave you a few seconds to detect his presence. Though, his frown grew as you continued to be, supposedly, too starstruck from your earlier conversation with that stranger.

He cleared his throat loudly.

You spun around at the familiar voice.

“Raf! How long have you been standing there for?”

He shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster. However, anyone with two eyes could have guessed the annoyance on his face.

“Enough to hear the last bits of your conversation.” He strode to your side, arms still folded tight across his chest. “Found interesting company so soon after I left?”

You closed the gap between the two of you with a step, preparing to explain the true nature of that conversation. Not letting you interrupt his sulking, Rafayel continued,

“I need to be more wary. There are too many people here wanting to whisk you away from me.”

As soon as you walked into the gallery arm-in-arm, people’s eyes were drawn to the two of you. At his mention that you were the centre of attention, you had dismissed it, saying it was him everyone took interest in.

Tilting your head to the side, you placed your hands your hips, almost as if to say: Are you going to let me speak?

Rafayel quickly conceded, spluttering out his next question, “And why were you being so chummy with that stranger, anyway?”

“That stranger said he was a professor of history specialising in ancient cities, and that he’s been an admirer of your works for a long time,” you answered.

Poking at his cheek with your finger, you attempted to remove his pout that remained affixed on his face.

“I was being chummy because he was complimenting your work! It made me happy to hear that people have such high praise for you and your paintings.”

Rafayel’s pout disappeared.

“It just made me think… how proud I am to have you as my partner,” you smiled. “You leave a profound impression on people.”

Your words resonated in his head. He stood motionless, with only the slow blink of his eyes.

His lack of reaction made you flush.

“Ah, that was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it? I’m sorry–”

The apology stopped short in your throat as you were scooped into a tight hug. Rafayel’s arms wrapped around your waist. A few gala attendees looked over at the young couple with admiring gazes, wondering what could have happened that would cause such open affection.

Rafayel nuzzled his forehead into the curve of your neck, mumbling right by your ear, “Jeez, here I was trying to be jealous…”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

6K notes · View notes

darkblueboxs · 5 months ago

Text

I think my favourite element of the writing in aftg is how Riko's downfall is utterly, entirely, beautifully self-inflicted.

Riko is power hungry, a glory seeker, jealous, cruel, vindictive and unable to share the spotlight. His worst actions and features come back to haunt him over and over in a way that is *incredibly* satisfying from a readers' perspective.

-Riko breaks Kevin's hand. Kevin leaves to become one of the foxes' best players, training them into a team worthy of finals and bringing them to victory with the game's final point

-Riko moves the Ravens to the southern district, placing his team directly in the path of the team that will eventually beat him

-Riko terrorises Kevin on the Kathy Ferdinand show, angering Neil into taking a stand against him (...which causes Andrew to re-evaluate Neil's worth, which leads to their deal, which leads to Neil staying with the Foxes...and so on)

-Riko kills Seth, who becomes a driving force for members of the team, particularly Alison, to beat the Ravens

-Riko setting Drake on Andrew further angers the Foxes and motivates them to beat him; Aaron in particular.

-This also results in Andrew sobering up sooner than he otherwise would have, arguably making him a stronger player and helping the Foxes reach finals

-Kidnapping Neil over Christmas break and forcing him to play as a backliner gives Neil an intensive course in Raven teamwork, drills, etc. Which Neil then teaches to the Foxes.

-Oh, and my favourite. They force Neil to play as a backliner against Riko. The very move which Neil then uses to block Riko from scoring in the final. Fantastic. Ten out of (jos)ten.

-Incidentally, beating the shit out of Neil and putting him in a different position causes the Ravens to vastly misunderstand/underestimate how Neil's abilities as a player have developed

-Forcing Neil into his natural appearance and helping his father find him leads to the most unifying moment for the Foxes of the entire series; the Foxes rally around Neil, and finally become one functioning, dedicated unit.

-and god, just when it seems like it couldn't get any better; Riko destroys Jean, taking one of his team's best players off the court before the match can even begin

Riko set almost every moment of his team's defeat into motion months before their match even began; the consequences of his cruelty not only weaken the ravens but fashion an opposing team which is stronger, more unified, and more determined than ever to beat Riko.

And it doesn't end with the match; Riko attempts to kill Neil, serving Ichirou all the justification he needs to dispose of his brother on a silver platter.

Riko Moriyama's fate is self-inflicted from start to finish, in the most deeply satisfying way possible.

#Would love to hear any more I missed!#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #clenches fist #i love a well thought-out villain

2K notes · View notes

emry-stars-art · 2 years ago

Text

@paradoxolotl God you’re so right

Prince you are getting your pillow all cold and wet with your hair - oh he’s already asleep

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

730 notes · View notes

bullet-prooflove · 2 months ago

Text

Do Over Day: Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fadeinsol

Companion piece to:

Crazy (NSFW) - Pope's always been crazy but now he's also a man in love.

Tomorrow - Pope's family always fuck up the good in his life.

Do Over Day starts with oral sex, with Pope’s face buried between your thighs because he’s determined to make up for the sins of the previous day. There has never been a man as dedicated to your pleasure as him, his pursuit of your ecstasy is relentless, a pathological need to ruin you for any other man.

His tongue traces delicate circles over your clit as his fingers press against that sweet spot, the one that makes you say his name in that pretty way of yours.

You don’t call him Pope, you call him Andy. It makes him feel normal, like he’s a man worthy of your time, your affection.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, grasping his dark curls and that sensation, it has him grinding his dick against the mattress. He chases your hitched breathes, those loud moans all the way to nirvana, until you’re coming all over his face and then he laps up that honey like it’s his birthday all over again, savouring every drop of your rapture.

He kisses a trail back up your body, through that khaki t-shirt of his you wore to bed last night until he settles between you thighs. Your hands smooth down his back, caressing the scars etched into his skin before delving underneath the elastic of his boxers.

“No.” He mumbles against your collarbone and you still your exploration because it’s too much sometimes, especially after everything he’s been through with prison. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Oh Andy.” You whisper, your lips brushing over his temple. “Are you still punishing yourself for yesterday?”

He doesn’t speak, instead he huffs as he buries his face into the curve of your throat, his body draped over you like a weighted blanket.

“You don’t have to do that with me.” You murmur into his ear, your teeth grazing over his ear lobe, tugging lightly and he arches against you as a wildfire erupts through his nerve endings. “You don’t have to pay penance or make up for anything, you just have to be you, the man I love.”

“Say it again.” He groans, his cock leaking at the sound of those words.

“I love you Andy.” You murmur as he shoves down his boxers, his dick springing free. “I love how fierce you are, how passionate, how you love with your whole heart…”

He enters you then and the noise you make, it’s like a goddamn symphony in his ears as he fills you with every inch of him. Your thighs lock around his waist, drawing him deeper and his mouth captures yours, swallowing down your moans as he begins to thrust. Every single stroke feels like heaven, every second inside you a peaceful bliss. Your hand seeks out his, fingers entwining and it’s that moment of connection that tips him over the edge, that thread of intimacy.

He comes with you, his release spilling inside you in white hot spurts as you climax all over his cock. You’re beautiful, in that moment you always are. All flushed skin and bright eyes, like he’s staring into paradise itself.

“You know I can’t say I love you.” He whispers, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek as he looks into your eyes. Those words, they’re too loaded to leave his mouth, they’re the ones he’s forced to say to his mother, unwillingly torn from his lips despite the damage she’s done to him, the monster she’s turned him into. “But I will tell you that you complete me, that there has never been a person on this earth that I have cared for more than you.”

“I know.” You promise him, his head comes to rest on your chest, his ear pressed against your heart. Your fingers comb lightly through his curls and he sighs contently, listening to the reassuring thud. “Trust me Andy I know.”

Love Pope? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#andrew cody #andrew cody x reader #andrew pope cody #pope #pope x reader #andy pope cody #andy pope cody x reader #animal kingdom #pope animal kingdom #pope cody #pope cody x reader #andrew pope cody x reader #shawn hatosy

424 notes · View notes

diamond-dangeresque · 2 years ago

Text

lmao

#hamsteak #andrew hussie forever cursed by the bloated candy corn albatross named Homestuck 'round his neck #dd.png #reduce reuse reblog #you don't get to determine if your story owns you *and you damn well know this*#(or. well. you do *now*.)

367 notes · View notes

foxesscramble · 7 months ago

Text

in honor of the holidays here's some foxes and co going home for the holidays (set sometime in the future)

Somewhere in Wisconsin:

Matt Boyd just won his last game before their winter break officially started.

Dan and Matt make their rounds to say goodbye to everyone as the team dispersed to various cities.

They head out and grab a taxi, making a quick stop by their house to grab their luggage.

They’re headed home for the holidays.

Back to where their family was gathering.

Back to South Carolina.

They were unbelievably excited to see everyone.

They had a secret that they were finally telling the foxes when they got them all together.

Dan cradled her growing belly and smiled as she looked out of the window.

Somewhere in Colorado:

Renee compiled a list of care advice for her neighbor who is petsitting for her while she’s in South Carolina.

It’s a hefty list and Renee is once again grateful for her kind, elderly neighbor who had volunteered herself immediately after hearing Renee was going to be traveling.

She made her rounds saying goodbye to all her pets before grabbing her suitcase and keys and heading to the door.

She sent a text to Allison to let her know she was about to hit the road.

Text sent she said one last goodbye at the door before locking up behind her.

South Carolina, here we come.

Somewhere in New York:

Allison carefully packed her clothes into her bag.

Had she possibly packed too much for her two-week trip? Probably, but she hasn’t seen anyone in a while, and she likes to look good.

Allison checked her phone for the time before grabbing her suitcases and putting them by the door.

She did one last walk-through to make sure she didn’t forget anything before turning all her lights off and grabbing her luggage.

She closed the door and locked it before making her way out of her apartment.

She sent a text to Renee to let her know she was leaving and got in her car.

Somewhere in Germany:

“Nicky, Liebling, if you don’t get your ass down here we’re going to miss our flight!”

Nicky swears as he collects his bags in a hurry, his feet pounding down the stairs of his and Erik’s apartment.

Germany had done Nicky a lot of good but he was undeniably excited to head back to the States.

Back to his family.

“I’m ready! I swear!”

Erik laughed and herded him out the door.

They made it through the security check with 15 minutes to get to their boarding area.

They laughed as they ran through the airport, their luggage flipping and bumping into the back of their legs.

They were the last people on the plane, but they made it.

Nicky was going home.

Somewhere in California:

Kevin lugs both suitcases into the trunk of his car before he helps Amalia into the back seat and gets her buckled into her car seat.

They were driving all the way to South Carolina because Amalia had recently become deathly afraid of planes.

Settling in for the two-day drive, they'd barely made it 30 minutes into the trip before Amalia determined it had been a long time and it was time for snacks.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer to all things holy, Kevin pulled into a gas station to get snacks and have a bathroom break.

He knew the drive would be rough but 'Grandpa Coach' and 'Gran Abby', as Amalia had taken to calling her grandparents (maybe Kevin should have stopped calling them by name), would be more than willing to take Amalia when they got home.

Amalia spent the rest of the 36 hour drive rotating between excitably talking about seeing her aunts and uncles, singing the entire Frozen soundtrack at the top of her little 4 year old lungs, and sleeping.

Somewhere between Kansas and South Carolina:

"If you touch the stereo one more time, Josten, you're losing your hand."

Hands held over the console.

Hand kisses.

Smoke breaks.

Lots of snack breaks.

Neil gets fruit cups and Andrew gets candy.

Their cats joined them for the trip.

Sir sits in Neil's lap the entire ride but King gets the zoomies every 30 miles.

Andrew has to repeatedly remove him from his feet so he stops getting close to the pedals.

They call Bee halfway through the drive to make sure she’ll be there when they get there. She and Andrew chat while Neil takes a bathroom break.

When Neil comes back Andrew’s frame has relaxed a bit further.

They were both excited to see everyone but that didn’t take away the anxiety of having that big of a group together again.

But the foxes were family and they couldn’t wait to see their family.

Somewhere in North Carolina:

"Okay, and you packed the girls' blankets?"

Katelyn and Aaron may resemble headless chickens trying to get their 13 month old twins together and ready.

Katelyn has been tasked with the girls' things and Aaron has been tasked with actually getting the girls in the car.

One of the twins is passed out in their car seat and the other is sobbing and throwing a fit.

Aaron is trying to calm her down and Katelyn is driving.

It took about an hour to get her to stop crying and when she did Aaron took a deep breath and fell back in his seat.

He rested his head back and closed his eyes, letting the quiet sounds of the road soothe him.

That calmness lasts for a good minute before Katelyn lets out a loud, FUCK!

"I forgot our suitcase!"

Somewhere in South Carolina:

Abby fluffs the decorative pillow for the hundredth time in the past ten minutes.

She’s already vacuumed and swept every room in their house. She’s gotten all the spare bedrooms ready and taken out all of the blowup mattresses. Most of the kids were staying with them with the exception of those that had kids.

They hadn’t all been together in so long and it felt imperative that the house looked good for everyone.

Wymack came up behind her and gently took the pillow from her hands before setting it back on the couch.

“The place looks amazing, Abby.”

Abby turned around and shot him a doubtful look.

Wymack laughed roughly and leaned forward to place a careful kiss to her forehead.

“They’re just going to be happy to be here. I don’t think they’d care if it looked like a pigsty in here. Everything is okay, and you know why?”

Abby leaned her weight against Wymack’s chest. “Why?”

Wymack pulled back slightly so he could send her a fond smile.

“Our kids are coming home."

635 notes · View notes

kevinsdsy · 11 months ago

Text

thinking about kevin day winning his first olympic gold medal.

kevin day who appears to the media as a confident athlete who knows how talented he is. everyone knew the gold medal was only a matter of when he’d get it and not if he gets it— he’s the son of exy after all. they might have seen him a bit stiff in his earlier years and people did not forget about his class i exy interviews in which he confirms he had never been skiing or that the palmetto state foxes’ coach is actually his father— but he has always maintained that kevin day winning smile and his polite composure with the perfect amount of charisma.

but then the US exy team wins the final game at the olympics. it’s the first time he has won the olympic medal and when the final whistle fills his ears, he quite literally drops to his knees, he yells out in celebration, and then when he takes off his helmet he is crying. he has finally done it. he has won the gold medal which he was so determined to win ever since he could remember.

and most people do not know the extend of what he had to sacrifice for it. they don’t realise the extend of how hard he had to work to get back to exy after his hand got broken— both mentally and physically. nor do they know the amount of panic attacks he had to deal with and the same amount of times he had to drown his feelings away with a bottle or three.

and he’s crying. the fans cheer him on. and it’s not just the USA fans— but it feels like the whole stadium starts cheering his name in celebration and support. because at the end of the day that’s kevin day and he has finally done it. he has gotten the medal and it’s literally going to be a historic moment.

andrew makes his way to kevin’s side and he helps kevin take off his gloves like he has done many times before. andrew wants to say something, maybe a remark that will get under kevin’s skin— but then he looks at kevin’s expression and he realises this is all they’ve been building up to for the past years.

and it’s not just kevin who has won the golden medal right now. it’s him too. his team. their team. and they’re all a bit speechless and astonished by this moment. so andrew helps kevin up and neither of them say a word to each other just yet, but kevin feels andrew’s weight shifting into him too— they’re both leaning onto each other; they’re both holding each other up.

#CAN YALL TELL I HAVE OLYMPICS BRAINROT #BECAUSE I DOOO #this might be word vomit i wouldnt know its 1.30 am and my brain doesnt fully function after 10 pm icl #anyways lets move on okay #all for the game #aftg #kevin day #andrew minyard

739 notes · View notes

woodchipp · 28 days ago

Text

Souls and their “types” in TCOAAL have been the subject of fan discussion for quite a while now. While there is no definitive explanation as to what exactly makes one any given type of soul so far, I’ve tried to piece together something resembling an explanation based on the vague hints the game gives you and my own inferences.

In Episode 3’s Cliffhanger route, the Entity states that “the only soul your morals affect is your own.” As Andrew subsequently points out, this means the type of one’s soul is determined by the individual’s subjective perception of themself.

Thus, it is also entirely possible for the type of the soul to be affected by external judgement that has been internalized by the individual in question.

With that in mind, let’s get into the nitty-gritty of it.

1) A pure soul is the soul of a person who believes themself to be morally upstanding, even if they aren’t. Examples of this include the warden Ashley sacrificed in Episode 1 (which is the soul the game uses to drop the above factoid) and the siblings’ father, Douglas Graves, who insists that he and his wife did “fine” raising the two while their kids are holding them hostage.

2) A grime soul is the soul of a person who believes themself to be reprehensible, but doesn’t fully accept it for whatever reason. The shining example would be Andrew himself, who often treats Ashley as a scapegoat to avoid taking accountability for his own behavior and tries to suppress his attraction to her as much as he can. The fact his soul was already grime at the time of his first contact with Lord Unknown implies he felt he was reprehensible since before the age of 10 - most likely due to his mother’s abuse - and dealt with those feelings by suppressing them as well.

Interestingly enough, when Renee’s tar soul-to-be is separated from Douglas’ pure soul at the playground of the souls, the latter becomes a grime soul shortly afterwards. This suggests that Douglas also let his wife be responsible for his more morally dubious decisions; while Andrew does it to maintain his delusion of being normal, however, what little we see of Douglas indicates he did so out of genuine trust in Renee.

The mindset of a grime soul is unwittingly summed up by Andrew in his notes - "I'm a piece of shit, but I could certainly be worse."

3) A tar soul-to-be is the soul of a person who fully believes themself to be reprehensible and simply doesn’t care. The most prominent example is the siblings’ mother, Renee Graves, who understands how vile selling her kids off to an organ harvesting scheme is enough to apologize, but doesn’t care as long as they’re not in the way of her life with her husband anymore. Another example would be the scheme’s mastermind, the Surgeon, who is marked by the Entity as “possibly a Tar Soul” and has no moral compunctions about doing what he does because it turns him on.

Notably, Andrew becomes a tar soul-to-be after attempting to kill Ashley on the Shots and Such route and/or successfully doing so in the “Prophecy Fulfiller” ending. It’s implied this was caused by him no longer caring about her wellbeing after she disobeyed him and cooked one of the campers, lending further credence to this definition.

4) Finally, there are tar souls, the darkest known type. The better you see yourself as, the purer your soul is. Conversely, the worse you see yourself as, the darker your soul is. Therefore, a tar soul is the soul of a person who fully believes themself to be reprehensible and hates themself for it.

And who, exactly, is the game’s singular tar soul so far?

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #tcoaal spoilers #andrew graves #ashley graves #renee graves #douglas graves

184 notes · View notes

entomologistt · 6 months ago

Text

Reacting to you in a revealing outfit!

Featuring: Ganji Gupta, Demi Bourbon, Andrew Kreiss, Naib Subedar (separate)

Contains: slight suggestiveness (but nothing actually happens), fluff, kisses, pet names, match-like setting, Fem! reader

Ento note: Requested by Anon! Ty for this idea… I’m not over Ganji’s summer skin he’s so fine I need him NOW iwannabesaaaved

Ganji Gupta “Batter”

When the summer lineup was announced, it was to be himself, Norton, and Fiona as the S-tiers. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to walk up to the table in such a revealing summer swimsuit, complemented with other accessories.

You can’t see his eyes due to the sunglasses, but his jaw tightens as he turns away from you, tapping William awake. He leaned into him to whisper something, nudging the forward in the rib when he showed clear annoyance.

When the match starts, it’s you who takes the first kite. You do well enough until there are 2 ciphers left, finally knocked down and lifted off your knees. But before the hunter could place you into the chair, a water ball hits them square in the stomach, making them stumble back and you back on your feet.

A light of gold flashes behind you, and you recognize it as a late use of the excitement trait. Fully expecting to be knocked back down, a bell dings, but you’re still up. You’re shoved past a pallet, making you look back to see Ganji throwing it down. He limps after you, clutching his toned abdomen… that could only mean he took the hit for you.

William was nowhere to be seen. Ganji is determined to show off to you, harassing the hunter to keep you alive, and boy, does he come in for the clutch every time you think you’re done for. God, did he look fine doing it too; he even took the final hit for you for the last cipher to pop!

The hunter ends up surrendering, and you all return back. The first thing you’re met with when you open your eyes is Ganji’s chest, your eyes moving up to meet his hidden ones. “Thank you, Ganji, you really saved me…! You were amazing!” you say in appreciation, smiling sweetly as you lift your hand to take a hibiscus flower that was tucked in your hair, offering it to him.

“For you, Ganji!” ... He wanted to ask you about the costume—but the sweet gesture of offering him a flower and your praise was the thing that made his face heat up.

Demi Bourbon “Barmaid”

You walk up to the table, taking your seat. You tug at the straps of the top, adjusting whatever was necessary. Demi looks over your rather revealing outfit, her green eyes meeting yours, and her next action will depend on you.

If you’re self-conscious about it, she offers a gentle smile, affirming that you look good, that she’ll have your back. But if you’re staring at her, thanking her for her compliments bashfully, she gives you one of her famous winks, showering you with a more sweet compliments and playful teasing before the match begins.

During the match, Demi takes the first kite and does pretty well; it is her strong suit after all. But insolence and blink have it out for her, two bells dinging at once. She drinks the mysterious Dovlin, and the hunter loses sight of her—she immediately runs around the map to find you!

Since she’s a bit tipsy, she stumbles towards you, giggling as her arms snake around your shoulders, rubbing her cheek against yours. “Y/nnnnnn! My pretty girl!” she coos and giggles, swaying with you while you decode. “Are you proud of me, hun? This is the last cipher… Focus, darling.” “Demi…! Very proud! Now help me push the cipher!”

When the cipher pops, you were expecting to have to drag her to the gate, but she takes your hand, pulling you to it. While you’re decoding the gate door, she twirls one of her white strands of hair with her finger, leaning into you as she playfully bats her lashes at you. “Can I get a kiss from my beautiful girl?”

Please kiss her; you look so hot she wants to eat you up… When the gate opens, you gently cup her face with your latex gloves, and she practically melts in your hold. Her lashes flutter shut when your lips meet, a short but sweet kiss. When you two pull away, she shoots you a wink as you lick your lips, the taste of dovlin lingering on your glossy lips. “You’re very pretty too, Demi.”

Andrew Kreiss “Grave keeper”

A gasp leaves his lips when you take your spot beside him, but instead of sitting, you stay standing, leaning on the chair. Your outfit is filled with black lace, a gothic costume with pretty red roses. You were a part of a gothic vampire essence! Despite how much it showed, he genuinely thought you looked pretty in it.

“Hi Andrew!” The pale skin of his face immediately heats up, not realizing that he was staring at you. He immediately shrinks a bit and rips his gaze from you, whispering an apology.

Neither of you are first kite, nor do you get a heartbeat. You got a friendly hunter! Not only that, but it’s Red Church night! And you know how Andrew likes this setting as the night sky graces the environment, illuminated by candle lights and jack-o'-lanterns.

Finally, you found him in a corner, decoding a cipher, decoding away. You join him, a small smile on your face. You for him to talk to you first, to get comfortable, allowing him to simply enjoy your close presence. When the cipher was popped, there was silence between you both.

“You… Y-You look… Divine tonight, y/n,” he said softly, his red eyes meeting yours. Even if a lot was exposed, he saw past that, appreciating you... for you! Though, he did struggle a bit to keep his eyes on you, wanting to be respectful. “Thank you, my sweet Andrew.”

Since there’s not much to worry about, you two stay close together, enjoying each other’s presence while the other three were in the basement for some reason. Andrew followed you around in his shovel state, popping out halfway once you stopped, looking up at you curiously.

You crouched down, gently cupping his face in your lace gloves with a smile on your face. You brush some dirt from him, something you’ve grown used to. Leaning down, you press a soft kiss onto his forehead, making his breath hitch in his throat, his pale face becoming red once again, matching the blood red lipstick stain you left on his skin.

Naib Subedar “Mercenary”

When you take your seat beside him, you hum and tap the table in front of him, trying to get his attention. But he scoffs, keeping his arms crossed as he keeps his head lowered, hood over his eyes. “What?? No costume? I think you’ll like mine!” you cheer, but it doesn’t deter him from acting like… himself. You hum and push your plate of food to him, to which he accepts, giving you a nod of gratitude.

You take the first kite, but it doesn’t go so well. Whether you got terrorshocked on purpose or not, it doesn’t matter because the motherfuckin’ mercenary is on your team.

While you’re squirming on the chair, Naib suddenly slams into it from the power of his elbow pads, his arm over your head. The hunter had left, not needing to camp… Or they just got greedy after getting a terrorshock so early into the game.

His eyes lock onto yours, his brow furrowed as he took a sharp breath of air. “We gotta go; they’re sure to be back. Getting cocky 'cause you got terrorshocked,” he said in a low, hushed tone.

His strong hand takes the handle of the chair, ready to lift it off you until he pauses, looking down at your revealing costume, added with the angle he had of you as he loomed over your form.

Naib lifted the handle off of you, ripping the cuffs off before taking your wrist. He says nothing, dragging you along with him to safety as another survivor calls out that the hunter was on them. He takes you to a cipher, and when you decode with him, you realize he had missed many calibrations. He was actually on edge, worried about you. He definitely noticed your costume and stayed close to you for the rest of the game, practically your shadow, glaring daggers around the others.

#identity v x you #identity v x reader #idv x you #idv x reader #ganji gupta x reader #demi bourbon x reader #andrew kreiss x reader #naib subedar x reader #ganji gupta #demi bourbon #andrew kreiss #naib subedar #ento writes #idv fanfic #idv headcanons

393 notes · View notes

jijournal · 4 months ago

Text

MY VERY OWN CUPID | G.W

Summary: Valerie Valentine, known as “Hogwarts’ Cupid” for her matchmaking prowess, finds herself heartbroken upon finding out George Weasley, her crush since 4th year, likes Angelina Johnson. This leads her to abandon her romantic endeavors, only to later discover something unexpected.

Word Count: 2.5k+

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my first ever story on tumblr, I really hope you guys enjoy! 🫰

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Valerie Valentine lived for Valentine's Day. It was in her name, after all.

Ever since she was little, Valentine’s Day had been her favorite holiday—the chocolates, the roses, the handwritten love letters. She adored how, just for a day, everything seemed sweeter, softer, filled with endless possibilities. When she arrived at Hogwarts, she quickly made it her mission to bring that magic to the castle.

It started in her second year when her best friend, Hannah Abbott, had fallen hopelessly in love with Roger Davies.

“I can’t tell him,” Hannah had groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’ll probably trip over my own feet and embarrass myself for life.”

Valerie, ever the romantic, had taken that as a challenge. With a carefully written anonymous love letter, a bit of strategic maneuvering, and the right nudge at the right time, Roger had ended up asking Hannah to Hogsmeade. By Valentine’s Day, they were sitting at the Hufflepuff table, sharing a box of Honeydukes chocolates.

“You’re amazing at this, Val,” Hannah had gushed. “You should be Hogwarts’ Cupid!”

And just like that, Valerie Valentine became a legend.

⸻

Valerie took on the title of Hogwarts’ Cupid with pride, dedicating herself to helping students find love. Over the years, she orchestrated dozens of successful love stories, each one becoming a fond memory.

One of her most ambitious plans involved a nervous third-year Hufflepuff, Andrew Macmillan, who had a crush on a Ravenclaw named Helena Clearwater. Andrew was a wreck whenever Helena was around, stammering through his words and turning bright red.

“She’s so smart, Val,” he had sighed. “She probably thinks I’m a complete idiot.”

Valerie had an idea.

“Girls love grand gestures,” she told him, handing him a crumpled parchment. “And you know what’s grand? A love song performed by the Hogwarts suits of armor.”

Andrew had stared at her in horror. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am serious.” She smirked. “I also may or may not have bribed the suits of armor to serenade her during lunch.”

Sure enough, the next day, as Helena was walking to the Great Hall, one of the enchanted suits of armor clanked forward, raised its sword like a conductor’s baton, and began to sing.

“O fair Helena, with eyes so bright,

You make my heart take glorious flight!

Oh, would you fancy a date with me?

For Butterbeer and cakes of treacle sweet?”

Andrew looked like he was about to pass out from sheer embarrassment.

But then—Helena laughed. A real, delighted laugh. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, turning to Andrew. “Did you do this?”

He stammered for a moment before nodding.

She smiled. “It’s cute. I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you.”

Valerie cheered from the sidelines. Another successful match.

⸻

By her third year, Valerie had students seeking her out for help. One of them was a shy Gryffindor named Ethan Wood, who had a major crush on Katie Bell.

“She’s so cool,” he groaned. “She’s an amazing Chaser, and she’s funny, and—and she probably doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Well, let’s change that,” Valerie had said.

Knowing Katie loved Chocolate Frogs, Valerie devised a plan. Ethan would send her a Chocolate Frog every morning for a week, each one accompanied by a tiny, anonymous note with a compliment.

The first note: You play Quidditch like a star.

The second: Your laugh is the best sound in the world.

By the time the seventh note arrived, Katie was determined to find out who her secret admirer was. She cornered Valerie at the common room, eyes shining with curiosity.

“You know, don’t you?” she asked.

Valerie grinned. “What would you do if I did?”

“I’d probably want to talk to him.”

So, later that evening, Valerie orchestrated the grand reveal. Ethan, nervous as ever, stood by the fireplace, hands fidgeting at his sides. When Katie walked up to him, Chocolate Frog in hand, she smirked.

“So,” she said, tossing the frog at him playfully. “You’ve been feeding me an unhealthy amount of sugar.”

Ethan stammered. “Uh—uh—sorry?”

Katie laughed. “Don’t be. Want to go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Ethan nearly fainted. Valerie patted herself on the back. Another victory.

⸻

For three years, Valerie had been Hogwarts’ Cupid. She loved it. She lived for it.

"Hogwarts' Cupid" had always been surrounded by love—not just romantic love, but the kind of warmth that came from friendships, from laughter, from the little things that made life feel magical. And yet, nothing had prepared her for the moment she realized she was in love with George Weasley.

She never meant to. It just happened—the way his laughter echoed through the common room, the way he always had a joke up his sleeve, the way his mischievous grin made her stomach flip.

⸻

It happened one evening in her fourth year, during the first snowfall of the winter. The Gryffindor common room was cozy, the fire crackling in the hearth, but Valerie had always been drawn to the magic of fresh snow. So when she saw the first flakes drifting past the castle windows, she slipped outside.

She didn’t expect anyone else to be out there, but of course—George Weasley never did the expected.

“Oi, Valentine,” he called from behind her as she stood in the courtyard, snowflakes catching in her hair. “Fancy meeting you out here. What’s a Cupid like you doing standing alone in the cold?”

She turned to find him grinning, his red hair dusted with snow, his cheeks pink from the chill.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she shot back. “Shouldn’t you be inside, plotting your next great prank?”

George put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I do have other interests, you know.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like this,” he said, before suddenly scooping up a handful of snow and launching it at her.

Valerie shrieked as the snow hit her shoulder. “George!”

“What? Cupid needs to learn how to dodge!” he teased, already gathering more snow.

She didn’t hesitate. She bent down, packed a snowball, and threw it at him with all her might—only for him to duck at the last second. It sailed past him and hit none other than Professor McGonagall’s window.

Both of them froze.

George turned to her, his eyes wide, and then—he grinned. “Run.”

Valerie didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted, George right beside her, the two of them slipping and sliding across the snowy courtyard as laughter bubbled out of them. They only stopped when they reached the covered bridge, breathless and shivering but giddy.

“That was all your fault,” Valerie panted, leaning against the railing.

George smirked. “Oh, definitely yours. I was just an innocent bystander.”

She rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, he reached out, brushing a bit of snow from her hair. It was such a small gesture, but it sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Their eyes met. And for the first time, standing there in the soft glow of moonlight reflecting off the snow, Valerie saw him differently.

Not just as the prankster. Not just as her friend.

But as someone who made her heart race.

Someone she wanted.

The realization hit her so suddenly that she barely managed to breathe.

George tilted his head, a slow, teasing smile forming on his lips. “You alright there, Val?”

She swallowed, forcing herself to laugh. “Y-Yeah. Just cold.”

“Then we’d better get inside before you freeze,” he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders and steering her back toward the castle.

She barely heard him over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Because that was the moment she knew—

She had fallen for George Weasley.

⸻

By her sixth year, Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts was practically synonymous with Valerie Valentine.

The weeks leading up to the holiday were always the busiest. Students whispered in hallways, love letters passed hands, and Valerie’s name floated through conversations like a spell. As usual, she was in high demand—helping a lovestruck Ravenclaw compose a heartfelt poem, advising a nervous Hufflepuff on how to casually bump into his crush, and sneaking sweets into the Gryffindor common room for a surprise confession plan.

She should have been thrilled.

And yet, for the first time, Valerie felt tired. Something about it felt off this year. Maybe it was because, despite all the magic she created for others, she had never been on the receiving end of it.

Then, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, George Weasley walked up to her.

“Hey, Val,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost shy. “Got a minute?”

Her heart gave a traitorous little flutter—an automatic reaction at this point.

“Of course,” she said, forcing herself to act normal. “Need help with a prank?"

“Not exactly.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you know if Angelina’s dating anyone?”

The world seemed to tilt.

The words were a Bludger to the stomach, knocking the breath right out of her.

Angelina. Of course.

She was smart, confident, talented—his best friend. They were already close, always sitting together at meals, always joking and laughing in that effortless way that made Valerie’s heart ache.

And why wouldn’t he like her?

Valerie swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to smile. “I—I don’t think so. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” George said with a shrug, a slight smile plastered on his face. “Just wondering.”

That was all the confirmation she needed.

She barely remembered the rest of the conversation. Somehow, she managed to act normal—laughing at all the right moments, nodding along as if her heart wasn’t shattering into pieces. The moment George walked away, she turned on her heel and fled to her dormitory.

She barely noticed the way her hands trembled as she grabbed the stack of love letters from her desk—the ones she had spent years helping craft, the delicate parchment filled with confessions she had helped others deliver.

With a shaking breath, she threw them into the fireplace.

The flames swallowed them up, turning love into ashes.

Hogwarts’ Cupid was officially retired.

⸻

For the first time in three years, Valerie refused to help anyone with their Valentine’s Day plans.

When a nervous fourth-year approached her in the library with a love letter, she shoved it back at them without a word. When Hannah Abbott asked for advice on which chocolates to get Roger, Valerie snapped, “Does it really matter?”

Hannah folded her arms. “Okay, what is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Valerie muttered, burying herself deeper into her Potions textbook.

Hannah wasn’t convinced. “You love this holiday. It’s your thing.”

“Not anymore.”

Hannah stared at her, then realization dawned on her face. “This is about him, isn’t it?”

Valerie stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hannah sighed. “Val, if you’re upset about something, talk to him. You never just give up.”

But Valerie shook her head. What was the point? George had already made his choice.

So, on Valentine’s Day, while the Great Hall buzzed with excitement, while couples exchanged gifts and friends laughed over ridiculous love notes, Valerie sat in the Gryffindor common room, alone.

She refused to look at the door. She would not let herself wonder if George had asked Angelina out.

Then, just as she was debating whether to go hide in her dormitory for the rest of the night, George plopped down beside her.

“Alright, Valentine,” he said, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. “What’s going on?”

Valerie scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re usually running around playing matchmaker, making sure everyone has a perfect day,” George said, eyeing her closely. “And yet, here you are, sulking like someone just told you Chocolate Frogs were being discontinued.”

She crossed her arms. “Maybe I’m just sick of love stories.”

George blinked, clearly taken aback. “Alright, who are you and what have you done with Valerie Valentine?”

She huffed. “Why do you even care? Shouldn’t you be off with Angelina?”

George frowned. “Angelina?”

Valerie glared at him. “You asked about her.”

George tilted his head. “Yeah…? So?”

“So,” she snapped, “if you’re going to ask her out, just do it already.”

For a moment, George just stared at her. Then, suddenly—

He laughed.

A real, full-bodied laugh.

Valerie gaped. “What’s so funny?!”

George grinned at her like she was the biggest idiot in the world. “Oh, Merlin, you’re thick.”

She scowled. “Excuse me?!”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Val, I asked about Angelina because Fred fancies her. I was helping him.”

The world came to a screeching halt.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again. “Wait—you don’t like her?”

George smirked. “Of course not. She’s great, but she’s not the one I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with.”

Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest. “Then… who do you want to spend it with?”

George raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think?”

She froze.

Everything—the endless matchmaking, the stolen glances, the little moments between them—it all suddenly clicked into place.

“You,” he said simply.

Her breath hitched.

For the first time in her life, Valerie Valentine was speechless.

George smirked, tilting his head. “Now, if our former Hogwarts’ Cupid is done sulking, can I take her on a proper date?”

Valerie stared at him, her heart pounding, before a slow, hesitant smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose…” She tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to consider it. “I could make an exception.”

George laughed, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “That’s my girl.”

And just like that, Hogwarts’ Cupid finally found herself caught in the love story she never saw coming.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

389 notes · View notes

sebsbarnes · 11 days ago

Text

four months || andrew ‘pope’ cody

andrew 'pope' cody x reader

summary: three words. four syllables. a simple question that somehow managed to feel like a bullet raged in the chambers of your heart shredding the organ to dust. unsalvageable.

warnings: language, illusions to suicidal ideations (brief), angst, tiniest mention of something in early s2, improper grammar, cliches, no mention of reader age or gender

word count: 900+

a/n: quick lil read! i wasn’t going to write for pope until i finish the show but sorry i got so much in my mind for him. just started s3<3

“are you happy?”

it was easier to stomach the pain of the knife that had lodged itself into your thigh on a shitty job that went wrong.

are you happy?

three words. four syllables. a simple question that somehow managed to feel like a bullet raged in the chambers of your heart shredding the organ to dust. unsalvageable.

a bitter laugh spilled from your lips, “happy? really, pope, happy?”

his stance was solid, back straight, head tipped the slightest bit towards the ground. a learned behavior from 3 years inside. pope’s lip curved down, a sign discomfort was setting in.

“couldn’t fuckin’ tell you the last time i was happy, pope.”

a small tsk sounded, “you know i wanted the best for you,” voice gravelly.

“the best for me? really because you didn’t fucking run that by me when you iced me out and told your family to pretend i’m not alive,” anger radiating off your body, your pointer finger jabbing into your chest with each word, “i didn’t realize you were all-fucking-knowing, pope. didn’t know you could determine how i would feel about something that you don’t warn me about.”

pope’s hand grabbed your wrist halting the repeated action, “it’s not safe for you.”

he was closer to you now with his body mirroring the slightest movement of yours. pope’s eyes locked on yours as if he will lose sight of you if he breaks away.

“i’m not safe for you,” he whispered.

the lump in your throat went down roughly, “i’ve been doing this shit just as long as you. i’ve known you pope, andrew, for years. i have loved you-i love you for years now. but pushing me away? what the fuck was that.”

you were forcing the tears back forbidding them from capsizing over your bottom eyelashes. now not only was the bullet still rattling in your heart, but it felt as though an invisible pump was deflating your lungs. depriving you of oxygen, skin growing cold, vision a haze.

“four months. up and vanished. not a word,” you choked all attempts to hide your emotions failing. you shoved at his chest causing him to stagger back, “i live two blocks away and i couldn’t find you. you’re not a hard man to find so i know you were putting in effort to avoid me.”

he stabilized himself, boots grounded into the floor, the squeaky boards under his feet now silencing. there was regret etched into his face evident by his eyebrows pulled together, a deep ridge forming between. pope chewed on his bottom lip as embarrassment set in. he knew it was fucked up to assume vanishing would be the best for you. safe for you. safe from his brothers, his mom, his past, him. it was a culmination of jobs gone south and self-doubting tendencies that blindsided him from good decision-making. you were right, of course you were, you always were. you and pope lived the same but separate lives for a long time before finding each other. been through the same fucked up shit.

maybe it was a horrible idea to love someone just as fucked up as you, but god did pope need you. he craved you in the simplest forms. the feeling of you walking next to him, your hand ghosting his shoulder as you passed him at your apartment sink, the warmth of your body tangled in the bedsheets with him.

it was idiotic of him to think either of you would be better off without the other. pope spent the last four months awake with almost no sleep. his demons creeping up, greeting him in the dark of night nagging him with reminders of the ghosts of his past. pope’s legs would swing from the ledge of the wall, eyes cast to the ocean with his right hand toying with his silver gun. there were many moments in the last few weeks where his skull and the barrel of the weapon acted as a magnetic force, the connection unwavering.

unbeknownst to him, you were spiraling at home desperate to find him anywhere. pope was two streets away yet it was as if he never existed on this earth. the tires of your car would screech into smurf’s driveway but the no trespassing sign greeted you, its commands unyielding. with a fist, you would barge into deran’s bar seeking answers but he would warn you to leave with his glock hesitating to point at you.

pope’s shoulders shook. a silent sob consuming his body. his life was shit but these last four months felt like hell had opened up and was punishing him for all his sins, torturing him in ways that mankind has yet to discover.

his hands reached forward softly grabbing your cheeks. your head lulled in his hands a sensation you have longed for. pope’s thumbs caught the droplets running from your eyes. a sight that caused him more anguish. tears that he caused.

“i am so sorry. please—please forgive me,” pope’s voice quiet and unsteady. his face was flushed and eyes now bloodshot.

you grabbed onto his hands removing them for your face, fingers slowly intertwining, “please never do that to me again.”

pope’s head rapidly nodded, tears decorating his face. c’mon you whispered softly before the weight of his body crashed into yours. relief flooded through your bodies as you molded together once again. it was love, no matter how unconventional.

#animal kingdom #andrew cody #andrew pope cody #andrew pope cody x reader #andrew cody x reader #pope cody x reader #andrew pope cody x you #pope cody x you #andrew cody x you #pope cody fic #animal kingdom fic #shawn hatosy #sebsbarnes

161 notes · View notes