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obxlife · 4 years

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In Need of Help (Pope x Reader)

A/N: Okay, so I had this idea for Pope and I knew I had to write it! I just feel like it’s very sweet and soft and idk. Plus, it has an enemy to lovers trope, which I personally love. Also, the valedictorian and salutatorian at my school are also dating and I just got that idea from them lol.

Word Count: 3,513

Request: -

Summary: Pope finds himself with some trouble regarding his scholarship work, and he knows he can’t turn to his friends for this. Instead, he sucks up his pride and turns to you, the runner up for the Lucas T Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. Oh, and his enemy regarding academics.

Warnings: Mild swearing.

IN NEED OF HELP

Pope was in trouble. Not serious trouble like JJ regarding his dad or John B in relation to the DCS and basically being homeless. No, Pope was in trouble in a way that may almost seem absurd.

He was struggling with his goddamn scholarship essay. And the worst part of it all was that he had technically already won the scholarship.

See, this was just a follow-up essay he had to do to ensure he was not going to be ripped apart from the opportunity of actually getting the scholarship. And it had been the hardest essay he had to write. Mainly because it asked for more of a story instead of focusing on a scientific topic, and Pope had always struggled with that.

The paper he was writing his draft on was filled with eraser marks and little doodles around the edges. Most of the doodles were of things he could see. His eraser, his pinky finger, his cup of water on his desk. There was only one he wasn’t really sure why he had drawn. It was the one object that was not in the room with him at that instant, and the worst part of it all was that he truly hated it. What had he drawn? You.

For some reason, Pope had drawn you onto the edge of his paper. He didn’t really understand why he had because, as mentioned before, he hated you with a passion that ran so deep in his veins it was a part of who he was. Pope could not be himself if he didn’t hate you, and it was just the same for you. You couldn’t be yourself if you didn’t hate Pope.

Pope began to rub his pencil over the small drawing of your face, wanting nothing more than to get you out of his head. He hated that he had drawn you of al people, and he hated how stuck he was on this stupid essay.

Pope hadn’t realized how much force he was using to press his pencil into the paper until he ripped it. Throwing his pencil down, Pope sighed and pressed his hands to his head, stretching in his seat.

“That’s it,” he said to himself before grabbing the papers from his desk, his pencil, his eraser, and his pencil sharpener into his backpack. He then grabbed the folder that had arrived through the mail and gently took it into his hands. Pope turned outside of his room and headed towards the shop in front of his house.

His father was behind the counter, checking an old lady out.

“Dad,” Pope called out to him from the door. “I’m heading out.”

The older man froze. He thought he had told his son to work on his scholarship. “I thought I told you to work on your scholarship. Now you know I don’t want you slacking around -”

“I know, I know,” Pope told him. “I just need to clear my head. I’m going over to John B to see if my friends can help.”

“Look here, boy,” Heyward called out to his son while pointing his finger out. Pope stood at the door, on hand already pushing it open. “What are your friends going to help with? They’re all a bunch of good-for-nothings.”

Pope sighed, only shaking his head and turning towards the outside, throwing a “Later, Pops” over his shoulder. The hot afternoon air made Pope’s body break into a sweat, but Pope didn’t mind as he headed deeper into the Cut towards John B’s fishing shack.

The Chateau stood mighty and tall before the marsh and surrounding it were Pope’s friends. JJ was laying across the hammock sipping on a beer and a joint in his hand while Kie lay opposite of him, playing the ukelele. John B was nowhere to be seen, which meant he was probably inside.

“Hey, guys,” the dark-haired boy called out to the pair. He smiled as he saluted them with their usual handshake before taking a seat in one of the broken-down chairs. Pope set his backpack on the ground, careful not to fold the papers in his hands.

“What you got there, Pope?” JJ asked curiously. Pope knew what he held in his hands would not interest JJ, so he told the boy straight out what it was.

“Scholarship stuff.”

Indeed, JJ shrugged and turned around, bringing the joint back to his lips to take another drag of it. Kie, instead, showed interest in the papers held between Pope’s fingers.

“What do you have to do this time? Another essay about something science-y?” she wondered.

Pope nodded but then shook his head. “Sort of. It’s an essay but they want a story. But I don’t know what to write about. Like, most of the stuff we do is illegal.”

Kie laughed at this before saying, “Then lie. Just take the illegal parts out.”

“Hard to do when they’re essential to the story,” Pope replied.

Now JJ laughed, smiling at Pope and diving into one of the many illegal memories they had made together.

While this helped Pope clear his head, it was not guiding him as to what to write for his essay. After about an hour or two hanging out, Pope sighed, knowing he would now have to work on the essay.

“Okay guys, I need y’all to be serious right now. I really need to get this essay done. Any ideas?”

Kie and JJ stared at him blankly, not really knowing how to help. Pope groaned at their reaction, but then groaned even louder when Kie said:

“Why don’t you ask Y/N Y/L/N? Wasn’t she second place for the scholarship?”

“Kie, I literally hate her. We’ve been competing over the top spot in our grade for our whole lives.”

Kie shrugged. “Yeah, but now the scholarship is yours anyway. And besides, didn’t you say the only thing she was better at than you is story writing?”

“I said that when I was drunk,” Pope deadpanned.

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t true,” JJ said quickly before taking another sip of beer.

Pope really didn’t want to go see you. He had way too much pride to do so. But his options were wearing thin and he had to send this essay in a week, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to do so himself.

“Well, even if I went to Y/N, I doubt she would be willing to help.”

Kie gave him a hard look. “You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you, Kie,” Pope sighed. “Look, I’ll go to her but she probably hates my guts. I did take the scholarship from her.”

“Hey!” JJ scolded. “Don’t say that, man. We know you won it fair and square. You deserve it.”

“I know I did. But that doesn’t mean she won’t hate me for it. We all know she needs that scholarship just as much as I do to get into college.”

It was true. You had lived your life down in the Cut, working just as much as Pope did with his father. Your mother was the owner of a small boat repair shop which she had received after your father’s death. Because she couldn’t and didn’t know how to work on boats and because your father had taught you everything you know, you were the head repair woman there. Everyone on the island knew how much time you dedicated to the shop, almost as much time as you dedicated to school.

“Look, man. Let’s be real. Everyone born on the Cut knows they’re probably going to be stuck here forever. You and Y/N were just lucky to have the opportunity to might have not been stuck here, but in the end, you got it. I’m sure she won’t be bitter towards you because she probably still expected her life to be spent on the Cut either way.”

Pope sighed. He knew what JJ was saying was probably true but he hated to think of that.

“Just go to her, Pope,” Kie told him.

With that, Pope collected his belongings and headed out towards your shop. It wasn’t far from the Chateau, maybe a five-minute walk, but Pope managed to get there in thirty minutes. He was trying to push back the inevitable.

Once he arrived he stood outside for another good ten minutes, building up his courage to go in. Breathing in deeply, he told himself that he was going to be fine and that your hate for him had probably dissipated a bit since the end of the school year. He opened the door to the shop and found it was empty except for two men looking down at the bottom of a boat.

They didn’t turn around when Pope had entered, too concentrated on the person Pope just now saw that was under the boat.

“What you thinkin’?” one of the men asked as you pushed yourself from out under the boat. The skateboard you were laying upon was uncomfortable and your muscles sighed in relief as you stood up next to them.

“We’re gonna need two orders of plugs from Guffy and then we can start working on this bad boy,” you told them before wiping your forehead. “Well, I’m off, boys.”

And just as you spun around your eyes fell upon the boy at the door.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Pope could only smile innocently, hoping you would spare him some time of day.

“What do you want, Heyward?” you asked rudely while heading towards the back of the shop. Pope began to follow you around, sparing a glance at the two men you stared at him dirtily.

Pope was sure you hated him now.

“Look, I-I need your help, Y/N. And I know you hate me but I really need it.”

Anger and pain were laced in your eyes as you spun around to face the dark-skinned boy. “Yes, I do hate you. And I don’t want to help you. You took the scholarship from me, Pope.”

“Well, technically I didn’t. I won it. But,” he raised his hands in defense when you gave him another murderous look, “I seriously need your help. They gave me a task I know you’re better at than me and I don’t know what to do.”

You began to tie your hair into a ponytail as you felt your skin grow hot with anger. “So what? You thought you would just strut in here and I’d be willing to help?”

“N-no, but I thought -”

“You thought what? That out of the kindness of my heart I would actually help you? Need I remind you that you took the scholarship from me?”

“I didn’t take the scholarship from you! I won it, fair and square and you know that!”

Your eyes fell to the ground, defeated. You knew what Pope was saying was true, but the denial had helped you cope with the fact that you weren’t enough for the scholarship. You weren’t enough to get out of the Cut.

“Look, Y/N,” Pope began awkwardly. He was scratching the back of his neck, not sure if he was going to be able to get you to help him. “I know you wanted the scholarship - hell, you probably wanted it more than me. And I’m sorry you didn’t get it because you truly deserve it, but I’m not sorry that I got it. And I know that’s selfish, but let’s be real here. We both want to get off the Cut, and we always knew that only one of us was going to make it. So please, please, please help me get out of this place.”

You thought about it. Really hard. And Pope stood before you fidgeting with his fingers and doubting if what he said was the best thing he could have said. He opened his mouth, a rant about to burst through his lips.

“Fine,” you stated. You were going against your instinct, but at least you would get him to shut up. “I’ll help you. But I get free groceries for a month.”

Pope stuttered before answering. “What - you - I - you know I can’t do that! My dad would kill me!”

“Well then, you’ll have to pay with your own money.”

“Okay, fine! But only because I’m really desperate.”

****************************************************************

And so you and Pope began to work together every day for the following week. It only took two hours for you to drop your grudge against him and laugh at his stories and jokes. He would smile at your reactions and feel his previous hate for you to slip into something more similar to love. He began to notice how pretty your eyes were when they seemed to sparkle in the afternoon light and how your skin reminded him of warm summer days. You began to notice how your stupid hatred for him began to transform into a crush. His chocolate brown eyes reminding you of coffees on chilly, winter mornings and his soft smile reminding you of innocence.

Between your hours spent working together, you would talk about other things. You told him about your mother and her disease (which didn’t let her work at the shop with you) and how your friends at school were all out of town because of a road trip they had planned which you couldn’t go on. He told you about the Pogues and the pressure he felt sometimes from his dad. You both told each other a lot more than you had ever expected to share, but the feeling of comfort and understanding that followed these confessions was enough to maintain the both of you stuck together.

Exactly a week after Pope had approached you at your boat shop, you both headed together to the post office that was near the police station. Together you sealed the envelope containing the finished essay and placed the post stamps onto it. You watched Pope pay for the dispatch of the letter and then you walked out together.

You felt dread in your stomach, not wanting to have to turn your back on your new friendship. You didn’t know if Pope felt the same way as you did, but you felt like you had come to the end of your short relationship. You felt as if, years from now, you would look back and remember Pope as the boy you only helped write an essay and nothing more, which made you afraid to no end. You didn’t want Pope to be only that.

Unbeknownst to you, Pope felt the same way. He was expecting you to turn towards him and say goodbye, followed by a snarky remark. He expected you to go back to hating him and not thinking about him. All he wanted was you to prove him wrong.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?” you both asked at the same time. Then, your eyes widened at the same time, both of you shocked that you wanted to carry on with your friendship.

“Wait, you still want to hang out?” you asked him. Pope nodded vigorously.

“Yeah. Did you really think I wouldn’t want to be your friend anymore?” he asked, a little hurt.

“Shut up, you thought that about me as well!”

With smiles on both of your faces, you turned around towards the Wreck, where you knew Kie would give Pope a discount.

**********************************************

The Pogues hadn’t seen their smart friend for a month. Ever since JJ and Kie had convinced him of reaching out to you for help, he had disappeared.

“Pope pulling a Houdini,” JJ remarked as he arrived at the Chateau to find that, once again, Pope was not there.

“Have you guys even heard from him?” John B asked.

JJ shrugged but Kie bit her lip. “I see him at the Wreck every once in a while. He’s been hanging around with Y/N.”

“Y/N?” John B said almost laughing. “Okay, we both know they hate each other and that’s a lie.”

“I’m not lying, JB,” Kie rolled her eyes. “I literally saw them there yesterday.”

“No way! Pope has to be dating her!” JJ exclaimed. “It only makes sense! Future valedictorian and salutatorian.”

“That would make a cute couple,” John B muttered while thinking about it.

Kie coughed, trying to bring the boys’ attention back to the main issue they had. “Look, guys, we need to get Pope to hang out with us again. He’s been blowing us off and I do not have enough patience to keep you two from doing dumb shit.”

“Mama’s mad,” JJ whispered. This earned him a smack on the head of the girl.

“Let’s just head over to her shop and see if they’re there.”

*********************************************

“Wait, so JJ stole some boat plugs?”

Pope nodded, perched upon the edge of the boat you were working on. He was leaning back, a book in his lap, as he told you one of his many crazy stories about his friends.

“I don’t know why you asked for my help for the essay when you have so many stories to tell.”

Pope sighed. “As I’ve said before, most of them are illegal.”

You nod your head at what he was saying, agreeing with him. You continued to work on the boat as you felt his eyes upon you.

Pope was looking at your eyes at first. He was counting how many flecks of color they held. Then, he moved onto your skin, noticing how smooth it looked. He wondered if it would feel smooth against his fingers, or if your mouth would feel smoother. He then noticed how plump your lips looked, and Pope could feel himself leaning closer to you.

“Y/N?” he called out so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

You spun your head to look at him, suddenly noticing how small the distance between the both of you had become. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wondered if he felt them too. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could only wait until his lips were pressed to yours.

Feeling nervous, Pope began to speak. “I d-don’t want this to be awkward but I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while.”

You nodded your head, inching even closer to him. His lips looked a little chapped, but you were sure that it wouldn’t matter once you kissed him.

“And I don’t know if you feel the same or if you -”

“Shut up, Pope,” you giggled before plunging forwards. You pressed your lips to his own, moving them and giving him a few seconds to respond. When he did you smiled a little before continuing what you were doing. Your arms reached up to hold his face while his arms brought you closer to him and positioned you between his legs. Pope’s thumb was drawing circles right at your waist, and you finally broke apart from him when the door of the shop opened.

You didn’t break eye contact with Pope, but a sudden loud whoop made you stumble away from each other. Spinning around you found JJ, John B, and a girl you recognized as a Kook standing before you. You were frozen in place as Pope headed over to them to cover up JJ’s lips.

“Pope boy finally getting some action!” John B hollered while you felt your cheeks go red. The girl rolled her eyes at his friend before sending you an apologetic look.

It only took Pope three seconds to round them up and take them outside. You got back to working on the boat, trying to distract yourself from what had happened. You felt embarrassment rise up inside of you at being caught kissing the boy you liked.

Soon enough, Pope returned inside and stood next to you. You didn’t turn to look at him in shame and fear at what he might say.

“They wanted to see me since, you know, I haven’t been hanging around them recently.”

“Oh.” This was the moment Pope was going to tell you he didn’t want to be friends with you anymore and that he had now noticed how you were all too time-consuming. However, the boy surprised you.

“They invited us to hang out tomorrow. They said they want to meet you.”

You smiled and turned to look at him. “Really?”

“U-um, yeah. They kind of think you’re my girlfriend so…”

You blushed at that thought. Being Pope’s girlfriend was something that made your insides swell and feel light and soft and good.

“Okay.”

“Okay as in ‘yes, I want to hang out with them’ or as in ‘yes, I want to be your girlfriend’?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Pope awkwardly nodded before looking at you. The smile on your face seemed to be glued on and Pope copied your facial expression. You leaned in again, kissing him softly.

“Take your guess, Pope,” you teased him while smiling.

“I really hope it’s the second one.”

#outer banks #obx #obx netflix #pope heyward #jonathan daviss

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duelingstreetrat · 5 years

Text

You’re pretty sure he’s drunk. Mokuba said they’d just finished with a company ball, and Kaiba didn’t need to be there any more. All the same, you didn’t think he’d be the type to drink. It sort of sets you on edge.

Especially since he’s nuzzling into your neck.

He mumbles something, leans uselessly against you as you walk cautiously through Kaiba manor. The stairs would be tricky. He insists on going to the library. Of course, he has a personal library.

It’s surprisingly minimalist. Not many books, but there’s a few bookshelves that have a collection of various types of digital storage: floppy disks, hard drives, CDs, recordings and a few you can’t immediately name off the top of your head. You suspect he created them.

Aside from the dark wood shelves, the room has pristine, white wallpaper with subtle silver patterns decorating the white rimmed walls, the old brick fireplace surrounded by a delicate silver gate. (You suspect the fireplace isn’t functional if the gate is anything to go by.) The floor is covered in warm dark wood, the white leather armchairs and footrests standing out sharply against it. Only a few paintings hang off the walls. One is of an almost cliche bowl of fruit. The other, Domino city at sunset. The second is your favorite, and you suspect it’s his as well.

“Have a seat.” He speaks with surprising clarity for a man who’s so drunk he can’t walk alone. Kaiba slips into a slender white desk chair with brilliant blue accents, loosening his necktie and closing his eyes.

You take the seat, though you can’t imagine why he’d want you to.

The silence is long and awkward. Kaiba fumbles around at his desk, taking out papers from the large grey-white desk and setting them into piles, organizing and reorganizing, frowning at a particular sheet of paper and ripping it in two. He tosses it into the wastebin. You can barely make out the words “classified” at the top of the paper.

“I need you to run some things for me.” He hiccups, but carries on as if nothing happened. You sear the moment into your mind. “I can’t let my employees see me this way tonight. So I’m asking you to do these things for me.”

You note that his speech is slower, his voice a little softer as he tries to emphasize his pronunciation. Even drunk, the man can’t let himself be flawed.

“I just need you to drop these off--” another hiccup “-- at Kaiba Corps’ front desk. I can arrange a ride. Make sure the notes are in place.”

He covers his mouth this time to try and hide the next hiccup. It’s cute. He’s cute and you don’t think you can live with this image haunting you.

“You can’t ask Mokuba?”

“He’ll be tending to the party the rest of the night as the host.” He leans back in his seat. “And I have to rearrange some last minute reports.” He picks up the desk phone and punches in a few numbers.

“What if I look at what’s inside?”

“I’m hardly concerned.” Another hiccup. He hides this one well. “But if I need to convince you not to invade private information, I have enough pocket change to bribe you.”

It’s a little annoying to hear, but he’s not wrong.

“I don’t need it.” You grab the files -- Wow, they’re heavy! -- and stand from your seat only to be motioned to sit again. Kaiba orders your ride, stands up and wobbles over.

“I want to be perfectly clear,” he half growls out as he reaches for your shoulder, poorly trying to hide his need for help. “I know you can’t do anything with the information there, yourself. But I am fully aware of how...” He pauses. “Fortuitous you tend to be.”

He steps closer. You, not having sat down like you were told, take a step back only for Kaiba to grab you tight and yank you closer. You wince. Your shoulder hurts and he’s a little too close. The champagne lingers in his breath. His eyes bore into you. His free hand settles on your waist and grabs a fist full of cloth to keep you close as he looms over you.

“If you tell... anyone... about what’s in those folders...” He leans close. Your noses are touching. “I will destroy you.”

It’s hard to take this very real threat seriously, but your body manages to balance slight arousal with lingering fear anyway. So you nod, frowning deep and looking up wide-eyed at the very, very, very drunk Kaiba.

Who... doesn’t let you go.

If anything, he forces you closer. The only reason your lips hadn’t met is because you were quick enough to turn away. It doesn’t help, though, because now Kaiba is gently nuzzling his nose under your ear and his breathing makes your spine tense and tingle. He holds you, but in such a way as to make you think that he wasn’t sure how to do it. Does he want to hug you? Threaten you again?

The desk phone rings and it’s just enough to make him let you go. You wish he didn’t, but you can’t always get your way.

“Your rides is ready,” he sighs, sinking back into his seat. “Go.”

And you do. With some great confusion. Hugging the files to your side, you rush out the library and out the double doors, a black limo waiting for you with water and some small snacks.

... He didn’t say you couldn’t look. Just that you couldn’t tell anyone what it was. Right?

You examine the pale blue files and the notes attached to them. Most of them are just notes about what reports and files go to which department. Nothing too unusual. So you flip the biggest one open and watch the pages fly as you thumb through them.

You stop at one packet that catches your eye.

“Dual Dimension System Version two point eight?”

The drive isn’t long, so you don’t get to look much into it, but the diagrams and draft images say plenty and you find yourself exhausted with the implications.

This isn’t how one should grieve...

Maybe you’ll talk to him about it later.

#copycat joey #narrative #long post #((just because...))

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