#pope fanfiction

Request:yes but I can’t find it. Was basically just the song Enchanted by Taylor Swift with Pope Heyward. 

A/N:Who isn’t enchanted by Pope?

TS Anthology Series|Outer Banks Masterlist

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

“This is kind of a lame party, huh?” You chanced asking, feeling a little awkward as you stood in the large kitchen at Tanney Hill. There was some background music that you didn’t recognise, no doubt whatever Rose found on Spotify when she typed in ‘graduation party playlist’. In an effort to get away from the suffocating afternoon affair you’d slipped into the kitchen, hoping to find a few extra desserts left behind or a good bottle of vodka that Rose wouldn’t notice anyone pilfering.  

Instead you found a Pogue, one you recognised almost immediately as Sarah’s boyfriend’s friend Pope…a little long winded but at least you had some information. You’d been surprised but also relieved when you’d seen Sarah’s less than savoury friends show up for the party. Maybe it wouldn’t be so dull after all. It was a pipe dream though because an hour into the afternoon and you realized that no look could escape the inevitable graduation party of stuffy family and friends doing their best interpretation of coastal grandmother, chatting about vacation spots and college studies and eating hor d’oeuvres.  

“More than kind of,” Pope laughed, tapping the steamless plastic wine glass against his chin before taking a sip. He’d filled it with lemonade that JJ had tried to top off with alcohol and almost succeeded in actually doing. The slightly sour taste of the lemons offset the entire afternoon and even surrounded by his friends he’d needed an escape from feeling out of place.  

“So who are you hiding from?” You asked, looking around as if someone might enter the kitchen and interrupt your time together.  

“No one in particular,” Pope replied, unsure how to accurately explain that he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. He tried so hard, aware that his friends didn’t recognise the effort he made to fit in with them, but it never felt like enough. He never felt outgoing enough or funny enough or cool enough. If he mentioned it, he was sure it would be followed with a chorus of reassuring ‘you’re a pogue, through and through’ that he’d have to accept and pretend changed anything about how he was feeling.  

“Well since we’re both hiding from ‘no one in particular’, want to go outside?” You asked, looking back toward the double doors that led out to the veranda. The garden and pool area, unoccupied, we’re decorated in twinkle lights that looks like stars through the glass.  

“What’s outside?” Pope asked, watching as you grabbed a bottle of white wine that had been chilling on ice.  

“A good hiding spot,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders.  

Pope followed you to the glass French doors, slipping out into the warm night with you and wondering if this was all really a good idea. He had seen you around and, if he had seen you, surely you had seen him before. You had to know who his friends were, who his parents were, where he lived. You had to know he wasn’t a kook. So what were you doing entertaining your time with him. He wanted to ask, the question was right there on the tip of his tongue, but then he was afraid he wouldn’t like the answer. That maybe this was just that, entertainment. A funny past time of watching a pogue like Pope trip over themselves to say something intelligible or interesting so you could laugh later with your friends over lunch at the Island Club.  

“I heard you’re going to med school in the fall?” You asked, taking a sip of the wine as you sat down on a bench along the garden path.  

“Uh, yeah…yeah I am. I’m studying pathology,” he replied, the subject matter comforting him enough that he took a seat beside you, beginning in the way he always did to explain what it was he loved about the practice. Talking interests was like Pope’s own form of drug, it could relax him immediately and he usually went off on tangents that were unintentional and, according to his friends, boring.  

You didn’t look bored though, Pope thought. He could hear himself running over all the facts that he found so interesting and talking about someday working at Mayo Clinic or NIH or somewhere just as prestigious. He could hear himself but he couldn’t stop himself, his calm had transformed into nervous rambling and his tangents had woven through all the things he found most fascinating about the work. But you didn’t look annoyed or like you were planning an escape. You listened and you offered short commentary and asked questions, you looked like maybe you actually found him interesting.  

“Sorry,” he finally apologized when he felt like he’d run of things to say. “I’m monopolizing the conversation.”

“It’s okay,” you angled more towards him, “I don’t mind. I like listening to you.”  

Before Pope could reply to you, JJ’s voice cut out through the garden, calling for his best friend. He could almost imagine JJ hanging out the back door, hands on either side of the frame, leaning almost dangerously into the evening and shouting that they were heading to Hawk’s Nest to finish the party. Pope thought that, if JJ had shown up thirty minutes ago, he would’ve been thrilled to leave but now he was sitting here talking to you and he wished he could push JJ back inside and lock the French doors.

“Sounds like your friends are ready to go,” you mused, smiling at him.  

Pope nodded, somewhat distracted. All he could think was that if he left now would the spell be broken? Would you see him the next time around the island and pretend you didn’t know him? Would you laugh with your friends about the pogue who was practically falling in love with you just sitting there drinking white wine at a graduation party?

“Maybe we could…uh,” Pope hesitated, standing up, unsure what he really wanted to say or could, “maybe we could hang out sometime?” He almost wanted to cringe at his own question. It sounded so awkward.  

“Give me your phone,” you held your hand out, setting down the wine bottle and taking his phone so you could put your number in and text yourself. “There.” You concluded.

“Sorry,” he apologized as JJ called his name again, “I wish we could just…keep talking.”

“I’ll see you soon Pope.” You promised, leaning forward to kiss his cheek in a moment of boldness, or maybe you were just tipsy enough to be a little more outgoing than usual.  

“See you soon.” He felt like he was floating on a cloud as he backed away from you, clumsily tripping over a large flower pot on the path and righting himself, before turning and leaving. You couldn’t help the wide smile on your face as you watched him, entirely mesmerized by Pope and eager already for the next time that the two of you would see each other.  

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