three mistakes
words: 880 tags: kook!pope x reader note: thank you @princessbrunette for reading the draft !! love u <3
when pope first met you he didn't think much.
after all he was the smartest kid in the grade, so of course you were insignificant. you may have been a scholarship kid, a nice one at that. that was your number one mistake, and there were three that you committed that first week you arrived at kook academy.
two. you were a little too sweet on him, he thought because you always smiled brightly at him, and wore those cute little skirts. last week you had given him a brownie that you said you, "made." but then you dropped the napkin and leaned down to get it for him it was the school uniform, but you sure knew how to lay it sweet.
so what? you were pretty, but pope didn't fall for that sort of thing. nah, he had seen enough pretty bimbos, and after you were new. you couldn't change anything.
three. that was until science class. it was one of his easier subject but then again what subject was hard for him? and then he was laughing to his friends, the desk pushed back, and a smirk on his face. you were sitting in front of him, head bowed down and deep in thought. you were still thinking even after the teacher had left for a few minutes.
he had a sudden thought, just a small comment might tip you off. he'd experienced this with other girls. they liked it to argue, or teasingly fight, and you were there in front of him, just waiting to be messed with.
but what to say to you? pope had to be sly with these comments, just something to make your cheeks go red without causing your smile to wilt. it was art what pope could do with his sweet mouth, and pretty soft eyes. some said that his dick was the size of his ego, and some put it a little nicer — that he was charming. but that didn't matter because when he looked at you he knew he had to say something sweet but scandalous enough to cause you to giggle. he would never admit this—but he wanted to hear your laugh.
suddenly he remembered the butterfly necklace you always had on. it was silver, and so shiny on you. he swore that there was some sort of school regulation about jelewy, but you had managed to pass by with that cute necklace. it was little dangly thing that lay before your chest. it had dainty wings, and glittery in the sun. it reminded him of you.
"y'know i always thought butterflies were like cockroaches with wings. ugly you know?" pope muttered to his friend. but he couldn't help but gesture at you in a sly moment, and his friends got it. they sniggered, and pope knew in another life he would ditch the bastards for how stupid they were. antoni was the smartest of the bunch.
it was almost as if that piqued your interest. you turned around, doe eyes wide almost as if you were shocked and taken aback.
"i think butterflies are beautiful," you whispered outraged, tightly holding onto your necklace. pope could barely keep in his laughter at your dumbstruck expression. he leaned in to take a full look at your face before looking back at his friends with a mock surprised face.
"yea' you think?" he whispered crudely. "can a dumb little bunny like you think?"
suddenly, you seemed to coil in, biting your lip, hot tears welting up in your eyes. he could see the way your hands shook beneath the desk as you furiously turned around to face him. "butterflies can see ultraviolet colors that are invisible to the human eye," you cried out.
pope found him stopping in his tracks because he swore there were tears in your eyes when you whispered out the fact. yet, he couldn't find himself to care, somehow he found himself enjoying the look on your face. almost wonderstruck, he found himself taking in your pretty face.
what he wanted to say to you was, "so what?" but he found grinning at you like you were a child.
his friends were laughing behind his back, and but he could feel the stinging sensation that what you had said had mattered a lot more than the stupid conversations that he had.
and somewhere in the middle of this, you were glaring at him, and then sniffed before turning away from him.
but he shrugged it off. what could you do anyways? huh? cry to your parents about how pope heyward couldn't take you seriously. for all you knew, if your parents did complain, the dean of kook academy probably shrug you off because pope heyward was an asset to their school. but there was something inside of him, something soft and nice said that knew he should say sorry, yet when the bell rung he watched you leave the room in a rush only leaving him with a dirty glare.
so he forgot about it. you were just another dirt poor scholorship kid? the last one had to leave because they couldn't take the academics. funny. maybe the same would happen to you.
⊹˚. ♡
you ran home crying, mascara running down your face, as you pulled your tiny skirt down. you had tried to be nice, you had tried to kind and most of all you had tried your best to be friends with everyone. goddamn it you had even given heyward a brownie! he clearly didn't like you.
what was it? what was so wrong with you that he felt the need to be mean to you? all you had done was tried. you had always tried, as your head felt empty and studied till your hands were sore from highlighting and your eyes felt bleary from scanning pages. until it all paid off and you were off to kook academy.
your cousin kiara had told you to wear your butterfly charm, and the two of you made brownies. she had yelled bye to you that first day, and now you sat next to her crying your eyes out.
"what went wrong?" she asked you quietly, as you burrowed your head into your pillow. you groaned, and shook your head furiously.
"don't wanna talk about it," you whispered looking up at her. she looked at you sternly, and you finally let out a soft sigh, "it's pope heyward," at this she rolled her eyes, tilting her head as she thought of a plan. you hoped that somehow she would find an answer - a solution to your problem
"i think you should get back at heyward. be smarter than him. that's how assholes like him work. they have crazy big egos but that's all he has. he looks wimpy to me," she scoffed looking at the previous yearbook where you had furiously crossed out pope's face.
"yeah right," you huffed at her, crossing your arms as your eyebrows were knit together. "he's ten times smarter than me."
"no, i think your underestimating yourself. just wait and see, and don't you dare lose the butterfly charm."
so you listened to her, and the next day you had little pink bows with butterfly imprints. in fact you strutted up to pope and gave him a dirty look, and you saw the way his eyes got wide before he opted for his all-knowing smirk.
"looking like a really pretty bunny. did you wear those bows for me?" he snickered, nudging his friends when he said that. you gritted your teeth and just walked the other way.
you were going to beat him. you knew you were going to. today the class was getting their results back for the major english assignments. you were hoping to get something high enough to throw in his face, and you knew you would relish the look on his face.
"class, we'll be handing out test scores now for the written passage. ," your teacher droned before stopping before your test and handing you yours with a smile. you felt happiness bloom in your heart-it had to be good right?
quickly you turned it around, and looked at the circled number. 100, a pristine number that was circled along with a "distinct voice." you felt yourself beaming, until you felt a tap on your back. it was heyward, yet he looked uneasy. he was glancing at your hidden paper.
"what did you get?"
of course he'd want to know. he'd want to know what you got so he could average it himself. after all this was your first test of the year, and he was checking if you really were the scholarship kid that could get the best grades. you found yourself smiling secretly, biting your lip.
finally he gave you a pointed look, "do i need to clarify? what did you get on your test?" he asked exasperated.
you bit your lip from beaming too hard, and shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "full marks, i guess."
"what does that mean?" he grinned, "is that a 60% for you? would make sense, bunny," he muttered, his brown eyes glinting with humour. now you would have been sadder, but instead there was a venomous bite to your speech.
"do i need to clarify? it's a hundred percent."
he shut up, glaring at you, "you're lying."
"yeah, what did you get?" you bit back.
he shook his head, "none of your business."
so that was it. you let it go and turned away looking pleased. the last went by easier, and the golden hundred was still shining in the paper. it was a triumph. a win that pope heyward understood.
it was here that pope realised that he had made one mistake.
he had underestimated you.
