🐺 ﹕𓏼 one man’s choice, another’s dream girl. — andrew 'pope' cody yearns for you . .
಄ ﹕𓏼 brought to you by laluhlove || not beta-read, we die like smurf.
Summary: pope was a man of few words, and even fewer affections. while he loves you, he doesn’t know how to express the fact he does. he just wants you to see yourself through his eyes.
Tags: hurt/comfort i think? pope is very much head over heels, reader is around craig’s age(27), set in s1-s2, insecure reader(oh my baby 🥹), reader is short as fuck bruh, pope is emotionally constipated as usual, pope comes off as blunt, reader is irritable(#valid), reader has GAME.
Pairing: andrew ‘pope’ cody x insecure!chubby!reader
Word Count: too damn long brah (1.8k)
Author's Note: REQUESTED BY: @in-ky on THIS POST!! i initially listened to “i want the one i cant have” by the smiths for this so its a bit sad at first.. lawrd… CAN THESE TWO JUST KISS FFS!! geng geng music made it flirty.. haha.. smut on part 2 bc im a #hoe
⤷ reqs: OPEN || masterlist
oh god you hated this already.
the moment your coverup fell from your shoulders, you felt.. exposed. duh. obviously with the skimpy black string bikini you bought because you.. well.. wanted to feel hot, you’d be more exposed than you usually were even in events like this.
the party was loud.. like, way too fucking loud for a weekday. but then again most people here didnt have actual jobs that got them tied down for a 9 to 5. how ironic, you're in a party full of outcasts, and yet you felt the most out of place in it all.
you nursed a cold drink in your hand, sitting in one of the rare unoccupied poolside seats at the pool of the cody compound with a towel on your lap in a futile attempt to cover the muffin top you thought you’d be able to show off proudly for once. you leaned back, staring at the other girls at attendance with a wistful expression, as if you wanted to be them.
but, you weren't like them. you didn't have an hourglass body toned from surfing, the gym, or just simple good genetics; not did you have smooth tan skin and smiles devoid of the never ending pool of insecurity you experienced especially in moments like this.
you didn't have the luxury of a body that projected a mask of unshakable confidence. you never had the usual lives of girls like them with guys chasing you up and down the block, drinks bought with a smile and a wink, or numbers in your phone to call when bored.
male attention and validation didn't come to you as easily as them. that was your reality, and you thought you’d grown to accept that already. yet as craig walks by with a smile, a greeting, and a remark about how pretty you look like he was talking to a little sister instead of one of his lady friends he kept around for the thrill of it, you felt it.
“whats different between me and them?”
why did craig find them attractive, yet not you?
he usually blurred the lines between platonic and romantic with girls he hung around with.
and its not that he was some crush you had, fuck no.
it just… would’ve been nice if he felt something like that with you too. it would’ve been nice if he made you feel special in that way too.
instead, you were special in another way. as the antithesis of the girl every guy wants.
you were everything pope could've ever wanted.
from the moment you stepped foot into his life, barging in with a smile that turned the lonely nights he let himself grow familiar with into days with hope and those beautiful eyes that looked at him with such softness, he knew it. he wanted you. yearned for you.
he didn’t know why you hung around with his family—let alone craig of all people, but he couldn't bring himself to complain when he saw you weekly from when craig brought you over to hang out.
every time he saw you, he couldn't stop his eyes from locking onto you before anything else. his eyes wandered, he knew that. and he couldnt help it with your soft waist, those hips that drove him mad, and the chubby cheeks he just wanted to cup while he kissed you senseless.
and that tummy.. god. he just wanted to wrap his arms around you and just feel your softness against the harsh planes of his body. you made him soft, he admits that to himself. to others? ehhh.. work in progress.
it didn't take long for him to start looking for you… expecting you to walk in with craig every week that he decided to hang out with his friends. every goddamn time he saw you around, he just wanted to be near you, like a dog with its owner.
so when the party was happening and he saw you, sat on that white pool chair with too much sorrow in your eyes for a girl that gorgeous? he couldn't resist.
his steps were heavy, weighed down by a forced casual demeanor as he looked at you.. then that bikini.
he could feel his face heating up… cheeks dusted with freckles—and now, a dusty red—that made him look younger than he was. he felt like a schoolboy at this moment, standing there asking for a simple moment of your attention.
he cleared his throat, looking down at you with that usual face he pulled; half scowl and almost always looking tense with stress and the weight of responsibilities thrust towards him from conception as smurf’s damn enforcer.
you—oh clueless you—looked up at him with confusion and perhaps a bit of.. nervousness. he stood there, towering over your seated form as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“uh.. yeah?” you asked, the cluelessness radiating off of you as you tried to figure out what he wanted.
maybe the seat? maybe it was to ask where one of his brothers were, even if half of the time they were already away already balls deep in some other chick.
but… no. he just.. grumbles. rubs the back of his neck, looking straight at you with a gaze that could’ve melted steel—good or bad, you've yet to find out..
“why are you like that?” he asked, almost sharp as an arrow with how straightforward and annoyed it seemed.
a bit offended, your brows furrow. chest puffing up slightly like you were ready to argue with him.
“excuse me?” you asked, offense lacing your words like a bitter taste.
he just tilted his head, as if already expecting you to know what he meant.
“the hell did you mean by ‘why are you like that’? why am i like what?” you spout out, already going for the defensive route.
pope rolled his eyes, annoyed but just accepting your defensive tone. he knew something was wrong.. just.. didnt know what. then, he sighed, nodding his head to the house as if he wanted to show you something.
you decided to humor him despite the anger and slight shame you already felt… as if you were pre-emptively anticipating humiliation just for showing up. standing up, you took your coverup and covered yourself by hanging it off of your shoulders while you walked with him.
he took you to a secluded place… more private than the pool or the living room filling with guests coked up and drunk enough to let go of their inhibitions right in public. he took you to.. well.. his room.
“i just.. want to talk.” he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his shorts, the black log sleeved swim shirt he usually wore for surfing hugged his fit body. you didn't know why he had covered his body tonight, but you assumed it was because he mentioned some nasty bruises he got the other day(that he didn't tell you the cause of).
“talk, then.” you spoke, almost snappy in its urgency. you felt exposed under his gaze. like every inch of you burned up under his eyes.
his gaze flicked from your waist, to your chest(which he would never admit), to your eyes.
“why do you keep glaring at the girls, hm?” he tilted his head, face having that signature glare he always had on his face. a scowl permanently tattooed on that devilishly handsome face.
you let out a surprised scoff, caught off guard by his attention to the subtlest details of your body language.
“yeah, glare. you want me to spell it out for you, or are you gonna answer the damn question?” he grumbled out, eyes diverting their gaze from you, to the tv that was turned off, then darting back to you again.
you pause, the words getting stuck in your throat… how do you explain your insecurities to a man that seemed like he was moments away from punching whoever made you that mad?
it was sweet, really. he was sweet in his own way.
before you could even speak, he took over the silence for the both of you.
“dont get it. you're plenty attractive yet you glare at ‘em like you want them dead.” he huffed out, weight shifting from one leg to another as he rolled his neck in an attempt to seem nonchalant under the curious gaze that now took over your face…
“w-what?” you stuttered out, dumbfounded. pope let out a sigh, as if annoyed you even wanted to hear what he said again.
“i said,” he drawled out, taking steps closer to you, his voice lowering and slowing as if making sure you heard every damn word that escaped his lips. “why are you glarin’ at them like you want them dead?”
“not that part.” you clarified, a small smile making itself at home on your lips. “you think im pretty…” you grinned.
“attractive.” he corrected, earning a small snort from you.
“same-same.” you teased, the heaviness in your chest easing slightly at the sight of the older man seemingly flustered at the simple act of your teasing.
“you… find me… attractive?” you clarified once more, staring at pope as his eyes darted from you, then the air as if regretting this conversation.
“well, why wouldnt i?” he replied bluntly even under your teasing. as if it was common sense that he would be attracted to someone like you.
“well.. i dont know..” you trailed off.. even if you didnt want to admit it, you—or atleast your insecurity—wanted to convince him that you were nothing like what he saw you as. that you were as undesirable as you saw yourself as.
“see? you don't even know.” he spoke, a hand twitching a little as if restless…
restless to touch you—not in that way, at least not yet—but just to feel you. to feel your warmth, your skin against his.
you shook your head, getting yourself out of that spiral as you focused on the man before you, looking up slightly to meet his eyes as he stood there in his usual awkward fashion. you found it endearing, a smile curving up your lips once more.
your smile. god, your smile.
he loved your smile. it made you look softer, the lines of your face making way for such a beautiful sight. how could someone that perfect hate what they saw in the mirror?
“you mean it.” you asked, to confirm once more.
that earned a gruff chuckle from pope as he shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he pushed it back a little.
“ask me that one more time and ill show you how much i mean it.” he drawled out, looking down at you with the slightest smirk on his face and the glint of something… dark in his eyes. dark and hungry, clawing at him with such need.
and god did you want him to.
