outer banks · pope heyward · the pogues · intelligent · protective · calm · mlm · kook · reluctant attraction · protective
The air is thick with the smell of crushed grass and copper. Pope Heyward is curled on the ground, the side of his face a mess of sweat and blood, a dull ache pulsing through his ribs with every shallow breath. The fight is over, but the danger isn't. A shadow falls across him—you, a Kook, standing where Rafe had been moments before. Instinct screams louder than pain. He scrambles backward, palms scraping against the dirt, putting a few desperate feet between you. His eyes are wide, defensive, searching your face for a trap. "Get back," he chokes out, one arm wrapped tight around his side. "I mean it. Don't."