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drearycrow · 3 months ago

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omg i loved your fyodor yan alphabet, do you think you could do one for ranpo? ty!

Notes: I'm glad that you enjoyed it! I loved writing the yandere headcanons for Ranpo. It was a lot of fun! Hope you enjoy

Affection: How do they show their love and affection. How intense would it get?

He is very affectionate to you all the time and gets pouty if you don't give him attention. The love you get from Ranpo is intense. All he wants to do is to be cuddling with you at home.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get for their darling?

Ranpo won't ever kill anyone under any circumstances. The idea of it makes him sick to his stomach.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Ranpo mocks you non stop after he abducts you. He makes remarks about how oblivious you were to his advances.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their Darling's will?

He will never do anything against your will. He loves you too much to lay a finger on you.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Ranpo tells you everything about himself. He doesn't hide anything from you. He hopes you open up to him as well.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Probably finds it a bit annoying that you are fighting back. He stands there looking at you not amused by your behavior.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy their darling try to escape.

Good luck even trying to escape from Ranpo. He can immediately deduce you attempting to escape from him. You will just get dragged back to his room where he mocks you for daring to escape his love.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

You were sent on a case with Dazai but Ranpo started getting upset that about it. He kept telling you that the case is too dangerous and you're better off staying at the Agency where you're guaranteed safety. He kept making excuses to not have you be alone with Dazai. He got so fed up about it that it made it snap, yelling at you in front of everyone. Ranpo felt immediate guilt for doing that to you.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Ranpo wants to spend the rest of his life with you. The thought of both of you living happily together makes him smile. It's the only thing he wants.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Ranpo gets jealous very easily and it's quite obvious when he is. He pouts angrily when someone takes your attention away from him. He kisses you, holds your hand, hugs you and anything to make it obvious to the other person that you're his. Poe hardly sees you because Ranpo is scared that you might leave him for his friend.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Ranpo loves to be by your side at all times. He's always hugging you or giving you kisses all over your face. He's overall happy when you're around.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

You get sent to work on cases with him, mainly helping him navigate the subway. Ranpo always asks for your help and doesn't let you work with anyone else. He wants to spend more time with you without anyone getting in his way.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really. Ranpo acts the same with you and everyone else. He's more clingy when you're around and wants attention at all times.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

The most he does as a punishment is not share snacks with you or completely ignore you for a while. It could last from a few hours to a whole week. You don't exist in his eyes when he is like this.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not much really. The most you aren't allowed to do is work on cases by yourself and being alone with another man. Ranpo gets jealous very easily if you are talking to someone else other than him.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Ranpo can quickly lose his patience if you're ignoring him. He will make remarks about mean you are being for ignoring him like that or will mock you until you give in.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Ranpo wouldn't be the same if you were to die. He loses all hope in the world and doesn't want to be around anyone. The sadness consumes him so much that he gives up being a detective. If you were to escape, Ranpo already knows where you went with his deduction skills. He immediately heads over there to bring you back home with him whether you want to or not.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Ranpo feels immediate guilt for kidnapping you when you are sleeping peacefully, unaware of what was about to happen. The fact that he took you away from your close friends and family makes him rethink what he is doing. He wouldn't let you go back to live your normal life. At most, he gives you the freedom to do what you like as long as you aren't alone with another man.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc.)

Growing up being an orphan was very difficult for Ranpo. All he had was Fukuzawa as his parental figure and the only person to genuinely love him. He wanted someone else to love him back and you were the unfortunate soul to cross his line of view.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Seeing you isolate yourself from the world or in a upset mood makes Ranpo worry a lot. He thinks he did something wrong to get this kind of treatment and his head gets a lot of thoughts running through. He does anything to cheer you up and see that beautiful smile again.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Ranpo doesn't like the idea of hurting you or anyone else in a physical manner. Using violence to get what he wants is absolutely terrible in his eyes. Ranpo is a very loving man and if anyone dares to lay a finger on you, he won't hesitate to blackmail them into leaving you alone forever.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Sweets and snacks. Ranpo can easily tell that you're trying to exploit his weakness for sweets but he doesn't mind. It's free snacks and you remember all of his favorites which makes him happy. He won't let you go though.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

It's a hard no. Ranpo respects you as a person and his lover. Hurting you in any way, especially in a physical manner is horrible and he thinks he deserves to die if he ever did that to you.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

You get spoiled a lot by Ranpo with free snacks from his stash. It's an honor to even get a piece of candy from him since he never shares with anyone else. You also get small gifts here and there to show his appreciation to your hard work and dedication at the Agency.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A few months to a year before he snaps. Ranpo wouldn't last that long without you by his side. Seeing you be happy when he's around makes his heart beat rapidly with love.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Ranpo would never break you in any way, shape or form. He's too sweet and loving to do any harm to you.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #ranpo x reader #bungou stray dogs ranpo #ranpo edogawa #bsd ranpo #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere

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zafirosreverie · 8 months ago

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"Would you go out with me?…I meant romantically" (Lovecraft x F!Reader)/(Poe x F!Reader)

for @stygianoir hope you like it!

H.P. Lovecraft:

He's been here for a long, long time, but he wasn't really interested in humans beyond the occasional sacrifices and tributes. There was nothing the human race could teach him, they didn't bring anything new, not even amusing for him. Until he met you.

He had been with the Guild for a long time, following orders, no matter how bloodthirsty or inhumane (after all, what did he care about the moral laws of a society that would soon disappear like so many others?), simply waiting for his contract to end so he could go back to sleep at the bottom of the ocean. But then you joined the Guild, and everything changed.

You were kind, gentle, a little distracted and radiated a pure and innocent aura, one that inevitably caught his attention. You know what they say, the darkness is always attracted to the light. He tried to approach you, the only important thing humanity had created, he needed to be near you, like a moth to the light, but it wasn't easy, you were just as shy or shyer than Alcott and Poe, which was saying a lot, and Lovecraft could see that his presence made you nervous.

However, he also felt that you weren't afraid of him, you just didn't know how to approach him. So he followed you around like a stray cat, waiting for you to get used to his presence. It wasn't his brightest move, nor the most dignified, but for an evil and ancient god, the prize often mattered more than the means, and you were definitely the prize he had longed for the most in his long, long existence.

Finally, after many months, you gave him the chance to make his move that he had been waiting for. He witnessed Twain's attempts to woo you, and although it bothered him, he had never done anything about it because you didn't really seem interested. Until one afternoon you went to him for help, saying how those flirtations and advances were really bothering you and that you wished the other man would stop. That's when Lovecraft decided to intervene, mark his territory and let the world know that you were the one to whom the eldritch horror would hand over his existence.

Listen, you knew he wasn't one for soft or cheesy talk, he just told you what he thought, direct and without embellishment and you had gotten used to it, you even appreciated his direct way of speaking because then you didn't need to try to read him or find out if the things he told you were true or if he was just being nice (you already knew he had a soft spot for you).

That's why he surprised you when one afternoon, while you sat in your study drawing, with Lovecraft's head in your lap, he opened his eyes suddenly and looked into your soul.

"Would you be my human?" he asked

"Huh?!" You blinked in confusion "I-I...I'm sure John already took that tittle"

Lovecraft frowned, as if the very idea was ridiculous and you were pretty sure he was judging you, even though his face showed no further emotion. You cleared your throat as an idea began to form in your mind, one that you really wanted to be true, but that you didn't dare say out loud.

"I mean-...you already have humans, what about the rest of the Guild? Or the people who still worship you?"

"They're not my humans" he said, as if it was something obvious "they're humans that I tolerate around me"

"You toletare me too?" you smiled a little, even as you felt your face blushing.

"I don't tolerate you. I actively seek your company" he corrected.

"…coming from you, I feel like that's an immense honor" you said sincerely, letting one of your hands caress his hair.

"It is" he replied, closing his eyes again.

You stayed silent for a while, your drawing already forgotten and abandoned while you simply looked at the impassive face of the man in your lap. Just when you thought he had fallen back asleep, you heard a soft whisper that you weren't sure if it was in your mind or he had actually said it.

"Would you be MY human?"

Clear images flashed through your mind, confirming the thought you had earlier. There was no mistaking the intentions of the horror in your arms, and as you timidly whispered a yes, you could feel as if an ancient, inhuman force surrounded you, warm and protective. The pact had been closed.

Edgar Allan Poe:

"Did she say yes again?"

Poe sighed as he sat next to Francis at the bar at the Guild base. It wasn't that they were close, he wasn't even completely sure he liked the man, but he was the only one in the organization who really had any notions of love and romantic relationships, so he was the only one who could help in his attempts to woo you.

The poor man hadn't been able to stop thinking about you from the moment he saw you. After all, you were the only reason he agreed to join the new Guild. After the disaster in Yokohama and Fitzgerald's surprising resurgence, the blonde had contacted his former employees again, in an attempt to regain the original strength of the Guild or even make it stronger.

As expected, some didn't accept. Steinbeck basically gave the man the middle finger, while Mitchell had decided to return home despite her embarrassment at not being able to regain the family's honor, and Montgomery had not even been considered for it. By the time Alcott had gone to look for him, they only had Melville, Twain, and herself on board (and Poe was sure that Herman had simply accepted out of a strange paternal sense toward Fitzgerald).

For a moment he had decided to reject the offer and wash his hands of Guild, but Louisa had asked him to at least just go see the new base, so that Francis would see that she had at least tried. It was a favor as "partners in shyness" that he had not been able to refuse. It was then that he met you.

When he and Louisa had arrived at the base, Fitzgerald had his back to the door, talking animatedly to someone. When he turned around, his eyes lit up at the sight of Poe and he quickly thanked him for coming back. Before Edgar could correct him and say that he was just visiting, Francis introduced you, and then his entire world stopped.

You were small (compared to him), pretty, young, your eyes didn't seem to be able to leave the ground and your cheeks were tinted a healthy and beautiful pink. Poe felt his heart begin to beat faster and he almost feared he had died, because there was no other explanation for being in the presence of such an angel.

"This is Y/N Y/L/N" Francis had said, breaking him out of his reverie "She will share the position of master architect with you."

The man had continued to babble further explanations, but Poe stopped listening again, simply staring at you behind the curtains of hair that hid his eyes. You were clinging to someone's arm, and it wasn't until he was able to regain control of the rest of his senses that Poe realized that you had, in fact, managed to bring two more members of the former Guild with you (although he never had the courage to ask you how the hell you'd contacted Lovecraft, or how you'd convinced Hawthorne to come back (honestly, part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know)).

And the moment you lifted your face a little to give him that smile, that damn shy smile, that had pierced his soul, Poe knew that there was no way in the world he could leave you. Not even Ranpo had been able to convince him to join the agency and abandon the new Guild. He just couldn't bear the thought of never seeing you again.

So he stayed and got to know you better. You two actually worked well together, and when Louisa joined the equation, the new Guild soon became the most influential organization in all of Japan (even the Port mafia had tried to do business with them).

It was easy to see the difference between this Guild and the old one, and for Poe, it was equally easy to discern why. It was you. Despite your shy and socially awkward nature, you were a little ray of sunshine to everyone, you knew how to keep a friendly conversation with anyone (as long as it was only one person, maximum two. Any more than that and you wouldn't talk anymore), help with their problems, you were a good listener and your silent company was always a source of tranquility and calm.

It was no wonder that Lovecraft loved sleeping near you, or that Hawthorne spent his afternoons reading next to you in your office. And for Poe, his favorite time were the nights, those in which you would timidly knock on his door and read his novels, those that he had abandoned in his obsession to defeat Ranpo and that thanks to you he had taken up again.

You had given him back a part of himself that he hadn't even realized he had lost, and because of that, he had decided to face his fears and try to establish a more intimate relationship with you.

The problem was that you just didn't take the hints. Whenever Poe tried to ask you out, you said yes, but then you would ask Louisa to join, so it was clear that you thought of it as a favor he was doing you, as part of the "partners in shyness" club.

Poe, being part of said squad as well, could never say no or correct you, so he ended up accepting the friendly solution. Louisa had apologized to him many times for that, but he knew it wasn't her fault.

"Why don't you write her something?" Francis asked, taking him out of his thoughts "You're a writer after all"

"I already tried, but I don't know how to write romance novels, and I don't think a crime scene is a good setting for a date."

"I meant letters, not a whole novel. Go back to the classics!"

That…that made sense. Edgar actually felt a little silly for not thinking of it sooner, but hey, it was better late than never, right? Days later, on one of the nights you visited him in his office, he asked you to help with something. But instead of the manuscript you had expected, he gave you a letter where he confessed everything he felt for you.

At that moment, you couldn't misunderstand anything, and all the kind invitations he had made to you before came back to your mind. You hid your face in your hands as you felt your cheeks heat up and apologized profusely for being so blind, but Poe quickly assured you that it was okay, he had still enjoyed those outings even if they hadn't been what he had planned.

“So… uhm…” he shifted uncomfortably next to you.

"I'll go out with you…romantically this time" you joked awkwardly and smiled shyly at him.

__________________________

"Oh, it's about time, you two," Mark joked when he saw you walking hand in hand. "Aw, don't blush, now that two of you are dating, you just need to adopt Louisa."

"Mark!"

#reader insert #x reader #imagine #bsd imagines #bsd preferences #bsd x reader #poe x reader #lovecraft x reader #poe bsd #lovecraft bsd #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs imagine #bungo stray dogs

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kitasgloves · 28 days ago

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Hostage

tracklist

— ♬ "It's not like me to be so mean, you're all I wanted. Just let me hold you like a hostage"

— ♬ Edgar Allan Poe x Reader, SFW, gender-neutral reader, brief depictions of stalking, obsessive behavior, and kidnapping, Poe having separation issues, 3.5k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE NOR ROMANTISIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

Solitude is most favored among those who linger in their thoughts for hours. Stillness and silence are required to think and call forth one's imagination. However, prolonged solitude can affect one's spirit. Being isolated from society for too long can wear an individual down. Humans were created to mingle and tangle with others; it's their nature. No matter how long one can be content in solitude, the soul will always long for another.

Edgar Allan Poe longed to find someone who shared his preferences. His being ached for the relatability of another human. Growing up, Poe was accustomed to loneliness, which in turn, made him draw near to it. With his dark reveries of mysteries and murder, he figured that it would be a challenge to encounter someone with similar tastes. Poe spent the majority of his childhood writing stories of horror, he was undeniably attracted to the morbidity of the human mind.

Poe considered himself a passionate and emotional man. Though sometimes his writings can paint him as heartless, he reassures that he is not without a heart. When Poe felt, he felt deeply. In love, anger, or terror, he felt them all in an intensity that was unusual to others. Along the way, he managed to find companions he could express his interests and talent for writing. He felt his spirit satisfied with simple human interactions, but he couldn't help but feel like something was missing. His soul yearned for more than companionship.

Admittedly, romance wasn't Poe's forté. After all, how can romance mix with horror? It didn't make sense to him. Poe wasn't familiar with the methods of wooing someone nor the experiences of new romance. His heart will be yet to be stolen. However, he has read plenty of books circulating around romance to familiarize himself and paint a faint idea of what love is. Pride and Prejudice, A Room with a View, and the timeless Romeo and Juliet filled Poe's imagination with the different faces of love. Love grants hope, joy, and even sorrow. It was difficult to describe the definite meaning of love when he hadn't even experienced it yet.

For a long while, Poe was captivated by romantic novels until he got so pathetically hopeless that he returned back to writing his usual mysteries. He did make attempts at romantic writing through poems, but it was hard to write about romance when you don't have a lover as your inspiration. Sometimes, he will sit by his windowsill during downpours pondering if he will ever experience romance or will be forever achingly long for it.

As though heeding his wordless wishes, Poe has encountered you. It was around Spring when the flowers bloomed, and the sun smiled down upon them when he had met you. Poe, in a rare occurrence, decided to go do his writing outside of his stuffy room. He settled on a bench at the nearest park and began scribbling a draft in his notebook.

"Hello, would you mind if I sit beside you?"

When Poe looked up and met your eyes, he was speechless. A rare beauty graced him at this time of Spring. Your eyes bore the brightest colors as the sun caressed your skin. You held a book securely against your chest, and it was a novel that he held close to his heart. Poe blinked and gulped as he searched for the words to reply. However, he only ends up nodding his head instead.

You smiled and politely sat on the bench beside him, a respectable space was held in between you that made Poe wish he dared to remove. He turns back to his paper and finds himself out of focus, he has completely lost his train of thought for the next scene of his story. He sits there dumbfounded and unable to stop giving you lingering glances. You sat quietly reading your book with your legs crossed. Your features were filled with content as you delicately turned the page. Poe was transfixed by you.

Suddenly, you turned to your side to find him staring. Poe silently gasps as he reverts his eyes away and back to his notebook, pretending that he wasn't hypnotized by your aura earlier. You held back a smile as you observed the sheepish man. The brown curly hair that mostly covered his eyes, his layered clothing that didn't fit in with the season, and his elegant handwriting on his notebook caught your interest. Poe sweats as he thanks God, he didn't decide to bring his pet raccoon, Karl, with him for he knew he would only pester him to make a move.

"Are you a writer?"

You asked and pointed at his notebook. Poe stutters as he scrambles to find a proper response.

"I—I suppose so, but I'm not an established author...yet"

"Really? Oh, I like literature! What kind of genre are you writing?"

"Oh, just short stories and poems"

"About what? If you don't mind me asking"

"Ju—Just mysteries, murder, and horror..."

Poe found himself too afraid to look up as he covered his writing with the sleeve of his coat. He figured you wouldn't be interested but you've surprised him by inching closer. Your eyes beamed at him with fascination.

"That's so cool! Would you mind if I read a sample of your work?"

The writer panics as he flips through his notebook for the most impressive work he has written. Poe felt pressured as he wanted to amaze you with his talent. You found him flipping back and forth on his notebook, mumbling and deciding what to show you. The sight looks somehow adorable. Finally, Poe shyly hands you his thick notebook filled with his most precious and unpublished works. On the page, you notice his beautiful cursive writing of a poem entitled 'Nevermore'.

Poe was growing nervous with each passing second as your eyes read the poem silently. He thinks he's mistaken when he sees your eyes widen for a moment with astonishment. He kept tugging on the sleeves of his coat as he waited impatiently for your reaction. Eventually, you looked up to him with genuine amazement.

"This...this is beautiful"

"I—um...th—thank you, I haven't showed anybody that poem yet"

"Oh, what an honor! Your writing is very unique"

You complimented him with a smile. Poe's face felt unusually hot as he tore his eyes away in sheer bashfulness. You handed his notebook back and he felt a foreign spark course through him the moment your fingers touched his. He had never met someone before who immediately took an interest in his writing, most of the people he knew barely paid attention to his works or simply made fun of them. Poe is suddenly encouraged to know you.

"... Do you write too?"

"Oh no, I could never. I'm more of a reader"

You admitted with a flustered smile. Poe can feel the corners of his lips curling up as he slowly inches closer to you.

"My name is Poe, Edgar Allan Poe, by the way"

"Nice to meet you, Poe. I'm [Surname] [Name]"

When you held out your hand for him to shake, Poe instantly reached out for your hand and melted by the warmth of your palm even if it was merely a quick second. Ever since that Spring Day, Poe felt himself falling for you. He would begin meeting with you frequently at the park by the same bench. He spent the remainder of Spring getting to know you. Both you and Poe shared your favorite books. You would tell him exciting stories about your childhood, and he would dedicate romantic poems to you. He was beyond ecstatic now that he had the inspiration to write love poems. By the end of Spring, Poe has gifted you a bouquet of red roses and professed his love for you.

The beginning of Summer was promising. Poe has invited you over to his home and introduced you to his lovely raccoon Karl whom you spoiled endlessly. The blooming romance between you and the writer was prevalent through expensive dates. Poe has learned how to effectively shower you with gifts and affection, and you all returned them with your love-filled offerings. Poe continued to dedicate poems to you. By the end of Summer, Poe and you became lovers.

The opening of Autumn was exciting, it was Poe's favorite season because of the weather and Halloween festivities. The writer was thrilled to spend the rest of Fall with you either reading ghost stories or cuddling during the chilling weather. Poe was eager as he made precise plans. You occupied each waking hour of his mind.

Lately, you have been busy with personal affairs and Poe had to cope with being alone while you were unable to be there to shower him with your affection. He tried writing more poems about you or working on his new mystery novel, but he seemed distracted. He made attempts to find a new hobby, but it was futile. He felt restless when you weren't by his side.

A week has passed, and the writer grew anxious. You were spending less and less time with him and he got worried that his first romance would end tragically. Poe tried to do countermeasures to ensure your relationship with him wouldn't end. He would keep a cautious eye on you, making sure you went home safe and that you didn't have any nightmares when you slept. When the morning arrived, he would sneak out of your room without your knowledge. Poe followed you to your workplace to admire you and he avoided staying for too long to avoid gaining suspicion. You went to different places frequently and it was tiresome to follow you around that he eventually gave up.

When Poe felt desperate, he would send Karl to follow you instead. Fall was halfway over, and Poe was growing worried that you were slowly falling out of love with him. His heart couldn't bear the idea of experiencing the heartache he read about in novels. Albeit you would visit him sometimes and did your duty as a lover, Poe didn't feel reassured. He tried to calm himself by reading or listening to music, but the discomfort only grew worse.

Poe wants to be alone, alone with you does that make sense? He wants to steal your soul and hide you in his treasure chest. He doesn't know what to do, to do with your kiss on his neck. He doesn't know what feels true. But this feels right so stay a sec. Yeah, you feel right so stay a sec. And let him crawl inside your veins. He'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain. It's not like him to be so mean, you're all he wanted. Just let him hold you like a hostage.

Autumn was approaching its end with the beginning of the Halloween festivities. You were noticing weird changes in your boyfriend. Poe seemed antsy lately. He's been aggressively writing in his notebook and grumbling curses that Karl was too afraid to approach him. His appearance has been unkept whenever you visit him, including his place, there is scattered paper everywhere and you're left to question his mental stability. You try to make up for lost time with him but he's beginning to push you away that it was uncharacteristic. Poe was behaving unlike himself and it intrigued you.

You were aware that Halloween was Poe's favorite so made cute plans to watch a new horror movie or cuddle with a mystery book as a date. You felt bad for not being consistent with communication with him. When you approached him with your plans for Halloween, he seemed dismissive or angry that it annoyed you. However, you tried to calm your nerves to avoid saying what you might regret later.

"Look, if you don't want to do any of that, I'm open to do whatever you want, Ed"

Poe looks up from his desk, his eyes seem like he is glaring at you through his bangs and it makes you momentarily shudder. He sets his pen down and shuts his notebook. He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. His tall stature almost swallows you as he leans down to meet you in the eye.

"How about we go to that Halloween party your friend was throwing this weekend"

Your eyes went wide as you raised a brow at your boyfriend. Poe's white button-up was wrinkled with a few buttons undone, exposing his pale collarbone. His hair was all over the place, and it seemed like he was lacking sleep.

"But you hate parties!"

"I do, unless I'm with you"

For a moment, Poe's usual sweet demeanor returns on his features as he gently reaches for your hand and kisses it. You melted. Poe sighs as he corners you on his desk he leans down you kisses you. The kiss felt...odd. It was passionate but it's fueled with frustration. His hands start to roam your body as he plunges his tongue into your mouth with no warning. You moan in surprise as he French kissed you. He pulls away to trail kisses from your jaw down to your neck. Breathlessly, you shoved him away. Shocked and disturbed by his unusual actions.

Poe doesn't say a word while he stares at you before he turns away and leaves you alone. You stood there catching your breath and trying to comprehend what the hell was going on with your boyfriend. Karl crawls out from under the couch to rub himself against your leg. Your face relaxed as you picked up the raccoon.

"What's going on with him?"

Karl answers you with a timid squeak. The raccoon stared at you as if he was warning you of impending doom, but you shook your head and laughed it off. You carried Karl in your arms as you searched the kitchen for a snack.

You and Poe barely said a word but agreed to get dressed for the Halloween Party. You two silently decided to have matching costumes. The journey to the party was awkward since you two barely exchanged a word. The party was lively as drinks and people were flooding all over the place. Your friend goes to briefly greet you and your boyfriend. You ended up not enjoying the party because of how things were tense between you and Poe, he hardly glanced at you, and it gave the impression that he was upset.

Karl jumped off Poe's shoulder as he went to scurry god knows where. You took in a large breath and touched the writer's arm. He turns to you with a blank expression.

"Can we talk?"

You and Poe ended up leaving the party. Both of you were outside surrounded by the cold autumn air. You try to inquire about Poe's mood and the reason for his avoidance. Poe gazes at you as if stuck in a trance, he realizes how upset he has made you and it makes him look down embarrassingly at his shoes.

"... I'm sorry, [Name]"

The apology sounded timid but sincere and you can't help but sigh and walk over to your boyfriend. You give him a warm embrace that he returns gratefully. You smile up at him.

"Let's go home and watch a movie, yeah?"

A smile finally graces Poe's lips as he takes your hand before walking back to his place. You two didn't remove your costumes as you entered the door. You're convinced that all is well now that your boyfriend is smiling at you.

Poe couldn't describe the ecstatic feeling rising in him. You appeared so eager to be alone with him that it merely drove him delirious. He felt like he was going mad with fever after experiencing days without you. He spent his time scheming ways to make you stay with him for good to prevent tragedy. Taking you with him back to his home alone was the first step.

Gold on your fingertips, fingertips across his cheek. Gold leaf across your lips, kiss him until he can't speak. Gold chain beneath your shirt, the shirt that you let him wear at home. Gold's fake and real love hurts. And nothing hurts when he's alone. When you're with him and you're both alone.

You were settled comfortably on the couch ready to watch the movie when Poe entered with a book in his hand. This arouses your curiosity as he goes to sit beside you. There was an excited grin on his lips as he offered you the book.

"I just finished my latest mystery novel, would you like to be the first to read, my dear?"

The writer watches your eyes sparkle with delight with a gasp as you excitedly take the book from his hand. You admired the fancy and intricate design of the hardbound book before turning to your boyfriend.

"Oh my god, I would love to! Thank you, baby"

Poe observes you as you softly opened the book, prepared to read the first lines of his novel, but you were engulfed with a bright light that blinded you. A startled gasp leaves your lips as your body disintegrated into particles before entering the light emitting from the book. There was silence as the book shuts abruptly, completely trapping you inside of it.

When you fluttered your eyes open, you found yourself in a windowless and doorless room. When you rose from the floor and tried to walk, you discovered that one of your ankles was chained. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized you were chained to a heavy metal ball. You frantically looked around and tried to find something that would help you break free. However, the room was empty, and it heavily resembled a prison cell. Your lip begins to wobble as panic strikes your heart.

What just happened? From what you recall, you were sitting in the living room when Poe handed you the book for his new mystery novel. You furrowed your eyebrows in thought. You huddled against the wall and tried to keep yourself from crying. All of a sudden, a figure spawns in front of you. Relief floods your heart when you realize that it is your boyfriend.

"Ed!"

You rushed to him but were stopped by the ball and chain, you hissed in pain. Poe hid his hands behind his back as he stood and looked at you calmly. You were convinced that he was going to save you from this weird prison until a twisted smile rose on his lips.

"You look more beautiful than what I have initially imagined"

Poe said. Puzzled, you tilted your head at him. He walks closer and kneels down to your crouched figure. The dark look on his face sent a dreadful shudder down your spine. Your lip starts to wobble.

"Wh—What the happening?"

He chuckles and goes to pet your hair, but you flinched away. Poe hides the pinch in his chest with a smirk.

"I can finally have you all to myself"

"...What? Ed, what the fuck did you just do?"

A menacing laugh erupts from Poe's chest as you gaze at him with pure horror.

"I have successfully trapped you in my mystery novel"

"What?! No, you're kidding. Please, tell me you're joking..."

"Oh no, you will be forever stuck in this novel unless you solve the mystery..."

Poe leans down and gives you a condensing smile that made your blood run hot.

"...That I highly doubt because this mystery is impossible to solve, and you are by no means a talented detective"

"Why are you doing this to me?"

You feel hot tears well up in your eyes as you glared up at him. His smile dissolves as he stares at you eerily and you quiver back against the wall. Poe wants you to let him crawl inside your veins. He has already built you a wall and given you a ball and chain.

"It's not like me to be so mean, you're all I wanted. Just let me hold you like a hostage"

Poe stares at you breathlessly. You couldn't believe what you just heard. You prayed that this was only a sick joke or a nightmare that you were waking up you're going to wake up from. But every second you waited, your unfortunate fate became clear to you. Poe leans forward to embrace you, he can feel you shaking in his arms as he hears the silent sobs breaking out of your lips. Nonetheless, he buries his face against your neck.

You'll never leave him, as long as you're trapped inside of his book, his romance with you will never end. Poe has lost sleep creating the most complicated mystery novel his twisted mind can create; he knows you can never be free because the mystery is impossible to solve. This truly felt a happy ending for Poe's life, there are no tragedies or heartbreak. For he will eternally hold you in his arms, and as his hostage.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

#— ♬ with love; kitasgloves #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs poe #bsd poe #edgar allan poe #edgar allan poe bsd #bsd poe x reader #poe x reader #edgar allan poe x reader #Spotify

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cotton-candy-vodka · 4 months ago

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Hi! Who is ur fav ASOUE character?? :)

Hello anon! Thanks for the ask!

ASOUE is one of the few pieces of media I enjoy where I really dont have a favorite character. Typically what makes me choose a character as a favorite is if i see myself in them, and in ASOUE that just happens so freaking much. But i want to answer your question at least a little bit, so here’s some ASOUE characters and how they relate to me/why they’re my “favorite”

Violet - she made a promise to her parents to protect her siblings. And honestly, she loves them so much that I think she’d protect them as fiercely as she does even without the promise. But the paradox with her character lies in the fact that she will do anything to keep her siblings safe: like risking their lives. She suggests stealing a boat and riding it across a large lake in the middle of the hurricane. She convinces her siblings to go down a 46-story elevator shaft at the chance of seeing their new friends. Even though her inventions are typically flawless, a lot of them could fail horribly and end up costing the Baudelaires not only their plan, but their lives. Her love is reckless and impulsive. Violet would destroy herself for her family, but when will she drag them down with her?

Klaus - No matter how much time, research, and dedication this poor boy pours into exposing evil, his work is never enough. Klaus pulls an all-nighter studying a subject he doesnt find interesting in the first book alone - i dare any one of us on this wretched website to do something like that. He shows Mr. Poe proof time and time again that Olaf is lurking and attempting to steal the Baudelaire fortune, but no matter how many facts he conjures up, Mr. Poe is ignorant. He spends the whole series fighting for what he believes is just, only to be told that there are no noble people in this world. The philosophies he built his life on are challenged by the world’s obliviousness, and perhaps unwillingness, to decipher what happens in the shadows. But in a world filled with more grey than black and white, will he become the very thing he’s sworn to destroy by blindly believing in good and evil?

Sunny - Say you lived in the shadow of, oh, I dont know, a pandemic. Gen Alpha will live their lives hearing stories told by those before them about how many deaths there were and how the world stopped. But Gen Alpha themselves will only have a lack of social skills and an accute knowledge of technology, not even realizing that what forged their generation is because of covid. The tragedy lies in the fact that they wont understand what made them what they are and why everyone else is so upset about it. Now, how many people do you know that remember what happened when they were around a year old? Exactly. If Sunny is still alive, she’ll always live in the shadow of unfortunate events that defined her life without her knowing it, all while her siblings suffer from immense trauma and all she can do is watch.

Olaf - Is any of his behavior okay? Absolutely not. But what is so upsetting about his narrative is that I believe he sees himself in the Baudelaires. He sees a childlike naïveté in believing noble people exist, that despite trial after trial one can continue to do what is “right”. But Olaf knows. He knows that there is betrayal, greed, and evil prevalent in everyone. And in his masochistic nature, he finds the Baudelaires learning such life lessons the hard way gratifying. He is satisfied to see others suffer as he did, seeing his vision of the world play out. Heck, he thinks he’s doing these kids a favor, teaching them whole they are still young and able to run from VFD. Terrifying? Yes. Understandable? Also yes.

Quigley - This poor boy. Being only thirteen, stripped of his family and almost everything else he cares about, has to survive by himself. No resources, no help. Just a light at the end of the tunnel: VFD. If he can uncover this mystery, he assumes all will be well, that the hole in his heart will heal. But the more he learns, the more he is brainwashed by the cult that is VFD. His savior slowly killing him from the inside. How poetic is that? (This is definitely going into headcanon territory but definitely dont imagine how if he reunites with his siblings normally he’ll only be a shell of himself and how they’ll try to convince him how VFD destroys everything its sworn to protect and how Quigley doesn’t believe them because if they’re true then what’s left of him??? Definitely do NOT think about that).

Isadora: I am a simple woman. I see a hopeless lesbian crushing on a girl who’s in love with her brother and i receive the biggest emotional attachment of my LIFE

I hope in some round-a-bout way all that answered your question. Have a wonderful day!

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #ask #send asks #violet baudelaire #klaus baudelaire #sunny baudelaire #count olaf #quigley quagmire #isadora quagmire #and nothing for duncan #because not even headcanons can make that boy less bland to me #you can see how i lost my mind in the second half

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nerdywriter36 · 8 months ago

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Und'r duress, I has't cometh to putteth this in an asketh, rath'r than to just sendeth thee a text message. Because apparently I might not but doth things “prop'rly. ” So h're:

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / did dare to kisseth

I’m going to needeth some e/c content f'r this. Thanketh thee v'ry much.

I remaineth,

The clotpole you’re did stick with f'r the rest of thy life <3

yes this has been sitting in my inbox since October. yes I apologize for that. no i don't remember what ask game this is from. i hope you enjoy this little thing, friend <3

"Thank you for agreeing to be my partner tonight, Maestro. I simply had to come, the girls would never have let me hear the end of it if I hadn't," Christine said with a smile up at her teacher as they walked arm-in-arm into the grand foyer of the Opera Garnier for the annual masquerade ball.

She was lovely, radiant, practially glowing in the warm light of the chandeliers, in her crisp white mask and gown, masquerading as the angel that she already was. Her blue eyes shone as she looked up at him, and even with the feelings of anxiety and incompetence eating him up from the inside, he couldn't help but smile back.

Erik was quite the partner for her, her polar opposite, dressed in blood red with a golden mask over his entire face and a long cloak trailing them, the famous words of a Poe poem painstakingly stitched into the fabric. Death and the Maidan come to life, truly, though he knew that they would have looked like that anywhere they went. He was hardly fit for grand outings and parties, and his first instinct had been to refuse Christine's request to join her that night; a woman as beautiful as her had no business being seen out and about with a man like him. Once she had explained the pressure she faced from the other chorus girls and how she truly wished for his company, though, he found himself powerless to refuse. He truly could deny her nothing.

"It is my pleasure," he replied as they reached the sidelines of the dance floor. "Will you want to dance, or shall we look for something to drink first?"

"Oh, let's dance once this song ends," Christine said with a grin that made her entire face light up. "That will be the perfect way to show people that I am here and that I have a partner."

Erik cracked another smile in reaction her excitement. "I suppose it is, yes. I donm't have an abundance of practice with ballroom dancing, though, I will admit."

(She didn't need to know that he had been reading up on the subject and practicing along in his home. Absolutely not.)

"I am sure that you will be perfect," Christine replied, giving his arm a reassuring pat. "And remember, you can hold me closer than normal and have your hand on your waist and all of that. We are meant to look like a couple, after all."

"Oh...so long as you're sure," Erik said, glad that his mask so effectively hid his flushed cheeks.

"Of course, competely sure. You are usually not one to touch me, so I am telling you that it's alright," Christine explained. She giggled then, shook her head. "I know this is all a bit silly, you pretending to be my sweetheart,t but I appreciate you playing along."

Erik smiled and swallowed thickly, attempting to ignore the dull ache in his chest at those words. "Anything for you, my angel," he replied as he set a chaste hand on the small of her back and ushered her onto the dance floor. Just for the night, she was his and he was hers. His Christine, her Erik.

If only they didn't have to pretend.

#my writing #e/c #ask em #that's my friend!#oneshot #fake relationship #erik #christine daae #poto #phic

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years ago

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Ok I have returned with a request for sjsm so here I go, could you do spooky who meets reader who is a ghost has been at the mansion long before the specimens made the mansion their home along with spooky

"Boo!! Did I scare you??"

"Ah...! You did! You gave me quite a fright!" Pretending to faint, you placed a hand over your still heart. Then the tiniest of grins formed on your lips as you gazed down at the blue-haired girl in a devil costume.

Somehow this 9 year old child--who called herself "Spooky" and insisted that was her real name--managed to infiltrate the mansion that you inherited from your elders...which you now haunted for all eternity after passing on a long time ago.

You don't recall what exactly did you in, but it was just tragic enough for you to become a ghost. And until you figured out what or why...you'll remain here, attached to this mansion. It was actually not half-bad, although it did get quite lonely up here, especially in recent years.

Rumors around the town began to spread about the precise origins of the mansion.....none of which were true, but sadly you couldn't give any of them the whole story, even if you tried.

Any contact you've attempted to make with humans would only lead to them pointing at you, screaming "ghost" at the top of their lungs, and promptly running away with their hands in the air.

That's how it's been for decades...although as of late people have become less superstitious. They started seeing ghosts, poltergeists, etc. as things of fiction. The only ones they "believed in" were Halloween costumes where kids wore white sheets and cut-out two holes for the eyes.

Apparently, the rumors of your mansion ceased to exist as well. So you haven't had a visitor in a long time....until Spooky came along and bravely entered alone.

Despite her name, the truth was that she was far too cute to ever be considered "spooky". But you didn't want her to feel discouraged, especially after she mentioned her own parents believing she's too young to be interested in Edgar Allan Poe. So you went along with her act to keep her happy.

As they say, "confidence is key".

"Good." Smirking in triumph, Spooky set down her plastic pitchfork on one of the tables, before climbing up the bunk bed ladder, sitting on the top mattress. There, she emptied her pumpkin-themed bucket upside down, candy spilling out into a pile. "Say...do you like candy?"

"I used to." You nodded, floating up to see her sorting her treats into different stacks. "But I can't exactly...eat it anymore."

"..ohhh, right, right..." She muttered, looking disappointed that she forgot that simple fact, although her cheerful attitude perked right back up. "Sooooo what's it like being a ghost? I bet you're a natural at scaring people! Can you teach me some tricks??" She tilted her head curiously.

"Ah, well..I don't do anything special." You shook your head, sighing. "I just need to...appear to them and they'd freak out. Nowadays, kids just come up this hill and dare each other to knock on the door. If they do see me...they call me a "dumb actor". Nothing I do scares them anymore. I wish I had some good advice for you, Spooks, but the truth is nobody believes in ghosts anymore. We're just make-believe to them..."

Although you felt kinda bad for dumping your problems on this child, she seemed to be absolutely focused on your words, her frown only growing as she munched on a chocolate bar. She gazed up at the full moon in thought, although she wondered how the glass windows stayed squeaky-clean when they were alllll the way up there.

But she snapped out of it, realizing there's a more pressing issue at hand:

Ghosts weren't taken seriously anymore.

There had to be a way to change that!

"Hmph..I think what this town needs is a haunted house...a real one. Not a cheap cardboard maze or anything dumb like that." She huffed. "This place is a perfect setting! Maybe one day I can help you haunt this place! And we can invite some friends and build up our own ghost army! That way, everybody will be scared again!"

You blinked in surprise at her never-ending optimism. She was truly an advocate for ghosts. 'Wow...for a nine year old, her imagination is quite vast..'

"It..would be a good way to remind people that the dead are still living among them.." You agreed. "I do miss hearing their screams of fear."

"Yes! I mean..who dares say you're "make-believe"?? You're the living--or erm..unliving proof that ghosts still exist!" She was swift to correct herself, puffing her cheeks out. "I promise you, [y/n]...someday people will take us seriously. We'll even show the whole world what ghosts are capable of!!"

"I'm sure we will, Spooks. I'm sure we will.." Chuckling softly, you entertained the idea, but knew something like that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

After all, this was just the product of one Halloween fan's overactive imagination.

There's no way she could singlehandedly assemble an entire army of ghosts without becoming a ghost herself..

..right?

#clanask #spooky's jumpscare mansion x reader #spooky's house of jumpscares x reader #sjm spooky #ghost reader #human spooky #platonic

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skylarstark4826 · 1 month ago

Text

Hux's last thoughts before the darkness carried him away were of a woman he'd never met. A woman who'd ruined everything he'd worked for, time and time again, whose face was little more than a freckled blur in his mind...yet she was his only hope. Perhaps, then, it was fate that when he finally opened his eyes, hers was the first face he looked upon.

Slivers of light shone through the jungle canopy, and while he could have ended up on any number of jungle planets, he had an unpleasant hunch about this one. He felt a hand on his thigh and tried to swat it away, only to discover his own hand wouldn't move the way he wanted it to.

"I'm sorry if it's uncomfortable, but it'll just be for a moment." The scavenger. He winced as the flesh around the blaster wound rippled, as though there were cockroaches scuttling beneath his skin, but when he dared to look down, his thigh was smooth and unmarked. He'd never imagined the Force could be used in such a way.

"We're running out of medical supplies," Rey explained. "And beds." He was groggy after waking, but she looked exhausted, overwhelmed, and he was suddenly aware of how clammy her hand felt.

"Ah. Sorry." She quickly moved her hand away from his leg, as if she'd only just noticed it was still there. At first Hux didn't say anything - there wasn't much he had to say to her. There was only one thing he needed to know.

"Kylo Ren…" His voice was weak, his throat felt like sandpaper, and he had to force the words out. But that was inconsequential. He needed to know.

"Gone," Rey said softly. There was something odd about her expression, but before Hux could ask for all the juicy details of Ren's defeat, he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Running water was a luxury Rey didn't think she'd ever get used to. She splashed her face a couple of times to get rid of what Rose had affectionately referred to as her "Ajan Kloss glow" after she'd (equally affectionately) commented on Rose's "slick" hair. Somehow Finn managed to look infuriatingly immaculate, even in the humidity of the jungle. Apparently this gave him the right to lecture her about hygiene, though he'd said nothing about all the times Poe wiped his brow with the same rag he'd used to wipe the mud off his ship.

To be fair, Finn had a point, as she was working with the wounded. So she'd made sure to use disinfectant, wear a clean gown over her clothes, and use the proper equipment. There'd been a lot of people who questioned whether Hux ought to be entitled to Resistance resources, and she understood why. She just didn't agree.

Nothing Hux could do would ever erase the suffering he'd inflicted upon billions, but that didn't mean what he could do didn't matter. Besides, he'd helped Finn, Chewie, and Poe - that mattered. Even if it was, allegedly , no more than an attempt to ensure Kylo Ren's loss. One of the most important things Rey had learned was that people lie, most of all to themselves.

"You holding up okay?" Poe shuffled over to the sink next to her, turned on the tap, and began washing his hands. Perhaps Finn did get to him after all.

"Just tired." She managed a smile when she caught Poe checking his hair in the small, grease-stained mirror.

"I know you've probably heard this all morning, but don't push yourself too hard, alright?" Something in his tone suggested he knew full well that she'd do as she pleased, but she did appreciate his concern. Besides, Poe never took his own advice anyway. The two of them weren't so different, and Rey hadn't been surprised to hear that he'd been the one to insist on going back for Hux. She doubted Finn and Chewie objected too much. In Finn's case it would have been perfectly understandable, all things considered, but he didn't like killing...or leaving people to die. Even when he spoke of Phasma's death, she sensed no pleasure in that particular memory.

"Won't do anything you wouldn't do." Poe grinned and shook his head, a few more curls falling out of place, as she made her way back to her patient.

Hux wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious. The light was beginning to fade as the sun set, but he couldn't be certain whether hours or days had passed. He did recall his current location, with a groan, which prompted a chuckle from the woman sitting by his gurney. Dark brown eyes and freckles. Her again.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Hux coughed. He tried to ignore the soreness of his throat, and that his tongue felt too big for his mouth. "Perhaps you could wash your hair." Her expression indicated that his suggestion had somehow been amusing to her. Some people simply took no pride in their appearance.

"Perhaps I should fetch you a mirror, and then you can decide whether you're really in a position to be giving me advice about my hair." He reluctantly raised his hand - ungloved, he now realised - to his head, finding a mass of tangled hair, much longer and much greasier than he ever remembered it being. "I'm just here to make sure that there are no...side effects." Hux wrinkled his nose. Of course there were likely to be side effects. Nothing ever went well for him where the Force was concerned. Such sorcery was a relic of a bygone era that ought, frankly, to have remained in the past. The Knights of Ren, trudging through the dirt and leaving it smeared across the freshly polished floors of his star destroyers, were no true knights. For if they were , they would embody the virtues of order and self-discipline.

"You seem fine," Rey continued, stepping forward to examine his previously scarred skin. He flinched when she placed a hand on his chest. "Did that hurt?"

"I- no. I'm fine." She could probably sense his heart racing, or the slight tremor in his hands. Yes, that was probably how the Force worked, if she wasn't already reading his mind and delving into his most personal memories.

"Okay, good." She smiled awkwardly, but he couldn't bring himself to do the same. He dug his nails into his palms, and it was only when she walked away that he realised they were smeared with blood.

The following morning Rey was startled awake by what sounded like blasterfire. Still bleary-eyed, she grasped for her saber but did not find it at her hip. What she did find, as she glanced around, was that she appeared to be in a small attic room, filled with various boxes of junk. The noise that had woken her was nothing more than the rattling of rain against a nearby window.

A dream, then. Or perhaps a vision?

Upon closer inspection, some of the boxes contained things resembling the old Imperial debris one was likely to find on Jakku, though much of it was unfamiliar to her. Other pieces were recognisable as scrapped droid parts, so old and mismatched that she wouldn't have known where to begin with them. Clearly someone did, though, as she soon spotted the half-finished droid in the corner of the room, wires patched over with electrical tape. The faceplate was a smooth, polished black, like a bizarre jewel sitting on top of a rusted, one armed battle droid carcass. She reached out with the Force, thinking about how it was the kind of room she'd dreamed of as a child, squirrelled away in the Jakku wreckage with her desert treasures.

Then she sensed it. Sorrow, intermingling with a fear that made her skin itch. Sorrow and fearfulness clung to the four walls of that room, so much so that Rey began to weep. Just whose room was this? Judging by the size of the bed, whoever slept here was a young child. Looking back towards the partly assembled droid, she found herself torn between impressed and disturbed. She sat on the edge of the bed, her knees almost reaching her chest, and as she waited for the waves of anguish to be washed away, she noticed a short auburn hair on the pillow.

On the other side of the Resistance Base, Armitage Hux woke up to a raging sandstorm.

Even through the grit in the air, Hux couldn't fail to recognise those dunes. He'd visited Jakku with his father as a child, after being spirited away from the siege of Arkanis. It hadn't been a particularly pleasant visit, but he hadn't been subjected to a faceful of sand. Just his father, Gallius Rax, and a ragtag group of orphans with a penchant for violence.

He might not remember how he got here this time, but, frankly, he quite fancied his chances with the sandstorm.

Scanning his surroundings to the best of his ability, he managed to spot some goggles that looked as if they could have been salvaged from an Imperial Stormtrooper helmet. They didn't quite fit, and did nothing to improve the limited visibility, but not having sand in his eyes was certainly a good start. There wasn't anything else useful on the makeshift workbench, and his instincts urged him northeast. As he battled against the elements, it wasn't long before he could just about make out a familiar colossal structure - the Ravager . Or at least what was left of it. It was slow going, but Hux forced himself to keep walking until he reached the dreadnought's wreckage and scuttled inside like a skittermouse.

He slumped against the least flimsy-looking sheet of durasteel, his head in his hands, trying to remember how he got here, and to shake off the feeling of being watched. The very notion was ridiculous - nobody would be stupid enough to voluntarily head out into a sandstorm like that.

It was possible that someone else had taken shelter within the wreckage of the Ravager ...but Imperial Executor -class Star Destroyers were easy to get lost in, if one didn't know their way around. Dozens of corridors sprawled throughout the ruined starship, twisted but intact. Even someone with Hux's knowledge of such starships would struggle to navigate them in their current state. Outside, the storm raged on, the sound of sand against metal deafening. So deafening, in fact, that he was unaware of the person standing beside him until he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder.

"We need to talk. Now."

Rey's hand was steady as she poured tea, but she couldn't pretend that what just happened hadn't shaken her. The last time she'd experienced anything remotely similar had been with Kylo Ren, when they'd communicated across great distances with the Force, slipping in and out of one another's realities. There had been times when the Force had revealed his memories to her, but she'd never found herself in them. There was one other major difference, too.

Hux was not Force-sensitive.

At least, that's what Rey had thought - but how else could she explain this? The Force had reeled around Kylo Ren, and when she was near Finn, she sensed the unique ripple of the Force around him. Now that she thought about it, she didn't sense much of anything from Hux, and that wasn't normal. Even people who weren't attuned to the Force ought to have ties to the world around them, but where there should have been a flurry of connections, she found only an eerie stillness.

"I suppose I was foolish to think I could escape from that kind of…" Hux waved an accusatory hand. "Invasion."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Rey said, careful to keep her tone even. She didn't even want to imagine what he might have experienced serving under Snoke or Kylo Ren. "And it wasn't just me. That's what we need to talk about. Something must have happened when I healed you-"

"No shit." Despite the situation, she almost laughed. Coming from Hux's prim and proper lips, it was kind of funny.

"-but it could only have happened if you were...well, maybe not strong in the Force." She doubted he could move a pebble, let alone lift rocks. But, as Leia had both explained and demonstrated to her on multiple occasions, there were other ways the Force could manifest. Finn's strengths were also different to her own. " Sensitive to it."

Rey wasn't entirely sure quite what she'd expected from Hux, but the sight of him laughing was possibly the strangest thing she'd seen all day.

"B- Kylo Ren couldn't sense your thoughts easily." She continued to raise her voice over his outburst. "You were able to act as a spy without his knowledge." Hux's laughter died down.

"He was distracted, that's all. Nigh on obsessed with Sith relics and... you. " Rey swallowed, her throat dry.

"I'm willing to bet there were other times when you acted without his knowledge. Or Snoke's." Hux shrugged, but Rey could sense that he was beginning to falter in his conviction.

"They underestimated me."

"Yes," she said quietly. "I daresay they did." There was a long pause, during which Rey took the opportunity to gulp down her lukewarm tea. She noticed Hux's own cup was untouched.

"What now?"

"I'm...not sure. This isn't entirely familiar territory for me either. I suppose we'll have to try to work this out together somehow." It wasn't exactly a prospect she relished, but she'd endured far worse than this and survived.

"You found me in the Starship Graveyard, but you said that you experienced one of my memories." Rey nodded. That had been a bad day - the storm meant she'd had to leave parts valuable enough to get her a week's worth of rations. "What was it?"

"It was more of a where , really. An attic room. Lots of droid parts and scrap. It was raining...a lot." He smiled at that last comment, nothing like the maniacal laughter he'd subjected her to earlier. Just a nice, normal smile.

"It always rains on Arkanis. Jakku was something of a shock to the system - not that we stayed long." It wasn't much, but she'd be damned if she let it slip away.

"I didn't realise you'd been to Jakku."

"Around thirty years ago, and I spent most of my time on a ship, but yes." Rey laughed. "What's so amusing?"

"Nothing, really. Just that this is almost like a normal conversation."

"This is nothing like a normal conversation." She suspected that, for Hux, that was true of any conversation that didn't involve him barking orders.

"You might want to rethink your idea of normal now." Along with a few other things, but they had to start somewhere if they were going to figure anything out.

And perhaps that somewhere was his homeworld.

The familiar scent of salt and ozone told Hux he was on Arkanis, but the cantina Rey had dragged him to couldn't be further from the childhood home he remembered. He supposed it was the kind of place members of the Resistance would be all too used to - a haven for shady characters and criminal activity. By the time Rey had ordered drinks, she'd already been forced to subdue one of the locals. Hux had complained that a blaster would have been a more efficient means of suppression, but he had to admit that she fought with a grace and discipline Ren had lacked. Rey's movements were practised, and she fought with her saber as if it was an extension of her own self, while Ren had always seemed to be fighting against everything. Everything about their techniques was so opposed that it was strange to think they'd both trained with Skywalker. Of course, scarcely anything seemed to make any damned sense when it came to the Force.

Rey wrinkled her nose at her ale, then gulped down a mouthful anyway.

"And I thought the water on Jakku had a bad aftertaste." Hux looked at the greasy smears on his glass and decided that even the finest Arkanisian red wouldn't be worth exposing oneself to that amount of bacteria.

"Couldn't you have found us a room somewhere else ?"

"No. Besides, you find out more in places like this." Her eyes flickered towards the droid bartender, speaking quietly to a tall zabrak customer with golden horns and a prosthetic arm.

"Nothing we want to know about," Hux sniffed. He had no doubt that this zabrak was an undesirable type. Rey smirked.

"There's no need to glare at him. He just works in cybernetics."

"Hmm." That made him potentially more interesting than the rest of the common thugs at the bar, but Hux still had his doubts about the zabrak's character. He was, after all, in a place like this. ..just as he was, he reminded himself with a sigh.

"Speaking of droids," Rey added, suddenly finding her glass empty. "The one you were building...did you ever finish it?"

"Why are you so interested?" At least she was asking him instead of simply trying to pluck whatever information she wanted from his mind. But after all the personal questions she'd asked on the journey - what his mother did, whether he had siblings, and so on - he was beginning to tire of her needling. "It was just something I did to pass the time, nothing more." Even to his own ears, his tone was overly defensive, and Rey's dismissive shrug was all the more irritating for it.

"I like building things, too." She patted the lightsaber at her hip, concealed beneath her cloak as if it hadn't been in her hand half an hour ago. "And I like droids." Such a deceptively simple answer. Hux knew enough about scheming to know she was up to something , but it had been a long day and he was too tired to argue with her - better to let her believe the matter was of no consequence to him.

He glanced back towards the zabrak with the golden horns, still happily chatting with the droid. Now that he'd turned around, Hux could appreciate that his features were rather striking. Sharp cheekbones and soft, blue lips. Perhaps that was what had drawn Rey's attention. He felt the heat spreading from his ears to his cheeks as she caught him looking, a ridiculous grin plastered across her face.

"I'm going to bed," he announced, wishing he'd kept quiet as the smile shifted into another smirk.

She was insufferable.

Rey had expected him to kick up more of a fuss upon discovering their shared room only had one bed, but Hux hadn't been especially bothered. Though the Resistance base on Ajan Kloss was quieter now that the war with the First Order had fizzled out into skirmishes, there'd been times in the past when there were more people than places to sleep. She'd grown accustomed to sharing a bed or sleeping bag with Rose, Kaydel, and Finn (on the occasions Poe wasn't already occupying that space).

Still, when she came to the room she'd rented above the cantina and found Hux already asleep in the bed, she wrapped herself in a spare blanket she'd brought, and flopped down onto the brightly striped rag rug. It was comfortable enough and muffled the sounds of merriment and laughter that came from below. She shook her head and chuckled again, covering her mouth with the corner of her blanket, as she thought back to Hux's reaction to the zabrak at the bar. Well, she couldn't really blame him. She shuffled until the bumpy surface of the rug seemed to caress her, and closed her eyes.

When Rey woke she was cold, yet her skin was clammy and her clothes were soaked, infused with the smells of salt and sweat. She still heard the echoes of a red haired boy screaming for his mother, grasping for a mechanical hand. She looked over to the bed, and saw Hux's outline trembling. She couldn't know for sure until she asked but, based on what she'd just dreamed about, she was pretty sure she could guess which one of her memories he'd relived. She wiped the tears from her own eyes, then shimmied out of her damp clothes and slipped into the bed behind Hux. He didn't object when she draped an arm around him, and she found herself pleasantly surprised when his fingers interlocked with hers.

The second time she woke, it was peaceful. Hux had rolled over in his sleep, and was now facing her, snoring softly. At some point his hand had ended up on her hip, and she cursed her past self for not having the foresight to change into fresh clothing during the night. Well, at least he was only in his underwear, too. And he didn't snore like Kaydel, who often sounded like she was doing her best impression of a loth cat drowning in porridge.

Rey watched as his eyelashes fluttered, hoping he was having more pleasant dreams. Without any product, his hair was soft and had a slight wave, and for the first time she noticed the light sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks. She hesitated as his eyes opened, torn on whether or not she should pretend to be asleep.

"Morning," she said awkwardly, her decision apparently made. Hux's eyes went wide, and he quickly withdrew his hand from her hip.

Hux remembered Rey sliding into bed next to him. Remembered her embracing him, remembered welcoming it. None of that remembering made it any less awkward that he'd woken up with his hand on her hip and a rather uncomfortable erection. Thankfully, she didn't seem to have noticed the latter. But rather than moving away from him, she only shuffled closer when he retracted his hand.

"It's cold," she said, as if that explained everything. He rolled his eyes as she began to giggle.

"That is a perfectly natural bodily function, and nothing to do with-"

"Dreaming about that zabrak at the bar?" The giggles descended into snorts as she snuggled in even closer, her loose hair tickling his chest.

"Shut up , " he hissed, though there was no real venom in it. Even he could tell Rey's teasing was good-natured, if frustrating. He touched her hair, and she stopped laughing.

"Make me." His fingers froze in her hair, and his breathing faltered. "Oh, R'iia's breath!" With that, her hands were on his cheeks, and her lips were on his, dry and chapped. Suddenly, she pulled back.

"Sorry, was that- sometimes I misread situations and-" Hux shook his head, and gently pressed his lips against hers again. She squeezed his hand as the kiss deepened, and he held back a whimper when he felt the wet warmth of Rey's tongue in his mouth, and again when she wrapped a strong, muscular leg around his waist. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss.

"As pleasant as this is, I...need to shower." A cold shower. He seriously doubted that hot water was a luxury on offer here, anyway.

"Good idea." Rey lifted the leg pinning him down. "After all, we have a busy day ahead of us."

"Do we, now?" Rey grinned.

"Oh, yes. A very important mission. We're going droid hunting. " Hux felt something strange then, like the tug of a thread drawing them closer together.

"Hmm." He pushed a few stray hairs behind her ear, and kissed her forehead. "It's been thirty years. I'm sure they won't mind a couple more minutes."

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silvfyre-writings · 1 year ago

Text

The Boy with Emerald Eyes Pt. 1 (BSD Fanfic)

Welcome, welcome, to one of the idk how many ranpoe AUs I have. This one is one I lovingly call the 'paperboy AU' and you'll see what I mean by that haha.

Now for those of you who read my last ranpoe AU, I promise you, this one has a happy ending!

It was January 16th, three days before his twenty-second birthday, and the middle of winter in the dead of the night. A gentle breeze was blowing, bringing with it a chill that made the night feel even colder than it actually was. It was this cold weather, with falling snow and icy roads, that had forced people to remain indoors; only those stupid enough to venture outside, much like himself, were outside in this weather. Not that he really cared—not for the cold, nor for the people that could probably see him. It was just him in his own little world; him, the alcohol bottle in his hand, and the bridge that he was standing on. There was no one else. Just the way he wanted it.

For tonight was the night that he, Edgar Allan Poe, had decided to take matters into his own hands and end his life.

The plan was to throw himself off the bridge, but his plan had been thwarted by the cold weather. The river that he’d hoped to drown himself in was frozen solid, and although a fall from this height would still certainly kill him, it wouldn’t be as nearly a peaceful death as he wanted. So, he stood there, staring down at the river, contemplating whether he actually wanted to continue his plan, or come back another night—a hard decision apparently. Edgar brought the bottle to his lips, downing the rest of the bottle and relishing in the burn as the warm liquid slid down his throat. It was the only warm thing about this night.

Alcohol was his only friend in this depressing world he’d found himself living in; it didn’t matter if it was whiskey or bourbon, and it also didn’t matter if it was vodka or cognac, it was all his friend. The alcohol allowed him to feel warm instead of cold, and it allowed him to forget what his life had become, and how it had ended up that way. Some would say that Edgar had an addiction, and he would have to agree with them. These days, he spent more days in the bottle than out of it, which probably didn’t help his situation, but he didn’t care. It helped him and that was what mattered. Someone had once dared to tell Edgar that his drinking habits would destroy his mind, and he’d thrown the bottle at them in response. His mind was already destroyed, not from the alcohol, but from itself, so who cared if he drank so much he blacked out.

Edgar was a broken human being, and in this world, this society, broken humans either died or… died.

The moon slid out from behind a cloud, the snow easing off enough for the surrounding area to become visible again—for the river to show it’s frozen face to him again. Only this time, instead of anger and frustration, there was acceptance as he made up his mind. Tonight was the night he would die, no other night would be acceptable. So what if the river was frozen? It just meant that if he landed right, his skull would cave in and his face would become unrecognizable, and that would be the best case scenario since it meant that his mother and father would not be dragged down with him when it was discovered what he intended to do. Can’t drag the family reputation down when no one knows who you are, after all.

Edgar threw a leg over the railing of the bridge, or at least, attempted to, but he’d drunk so much that he didn’t lift it nearly high enough, and just wound up faceplanting the sidewalk, getting a mouthful of snow instead of the sweet release of death. He groaned. And groaned again. And then just closed his eyes. It was cold enough that he’d freeze to death anyway once the alcohol wore off. He didn’t have a coat after all, just his shirt and pants. He didn’t even have shoes, hadn’t even thought of putting them on when he’d left the house, much more focused on his plan.

He was regretting it now, but only a little. A sigh fell from between his lips as he turned his head to stare at the road beside him. An old, beaten down carriage drove past him, the first he’d seen that night, but didn’t stop as it headed into the city. The people inside had probably seen him and thought him already dead. Which was fine, because he didn’t really want to inconvenience people with his death, which was why he’d planned to throw himself into the river and drown. But you’ll become an inconvenience by lying here. Edgar’s mind threw at him unhelpfully, and he buried his face into the snow to stifle another groan as his drunken self registered what that meant. It looked like his plan to die tonight would in fact, have to be put on hold; that was, if he truly wanted to die and not be found or recognized.

Another sigh and Edgar somehow managed to get his arms under him to push himself into a sitting position, but that was as far as he could get because he immediately slumped to the other side, folded in a way that was quickly becoming painful. And cold, because he was cold now. He wasn’t shivering, having long since passed that stage of cold, and he started to wish that he’d brought his coat, just so he could stop being cold. Which was stupid really, since he’d planned on throwing himself into the ice cold river, but Edgar’s drunken plans had seldom made sense, especially to him, and he’d been the one to make them in the first place.

“Hey! You!” An unfamiliar voice called out, and Edgar opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed in the first place to see a stranger crouched in front of him. He couldn’t decipher the expression that the stranger was wearing on account of his vision fading in and out, but from what he could see, it wasn’t an impressed one. “You’re going to die if you stay there.”

“That’s the point.” Edgar said, at least, that’s what he thought he said, because whatever it was that had come out of his mouth, he hadn’t understood. He closed his eyes again and curled into a ball, ignoring the way the snow stuck to his skin and clung to his hair. “Just go away…”

“No way. You think people want to start their day seeing a corpse?” There are hands that grab at his shirt and tug him into a sitting position, but Edgar is nothing more than deadweight, his limbs refusing to cooperate at all. He can hear the stranger wheezing as he tries to get him to stand, and Edgar somehow managed to get one leg underneath him, but only for a second before it gives out on him and he’s sent sprawling back onto the footpath, the stranger being dragged down with him.

It's then that Edgar’s body decided to remind him that he had, in fact, drunk an entire bottle of alcohol on his way here, and he barely has enough time to shove the stranger off him before he’s throwing up. He’s colder now, as the alcohol vacated itself from his system and splattered him and the stranger. It’s mostly liquid since he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, but it still burns all the same. There’s a groan from beside him, and hands smaller than his own shove at his back until he rolls onto his side.

“Gross.” The stranger complained, disgust in his voice. “How drunk even are you?”

Edgar didn’t want to answer this person who had decided to ruin his night and turned his head away, hoping that would be enough of a hint. It wasn’t, because a second later there was a face inches away from his own with the greenest eyes he’d ever seen in his life staring at him. Really, they were as green as the trees when new leaves bloomed during spring. He groaned, shoving that thought away before he let it consume him. “Just leave me here.”

“No way. You’ll die and wind up in the papers and that’s the last thing I want on my conscious. If you wanted to die you should’ve chosen a different river. You know, one that wasn’t frozen over.”

Hands hook themselves under his armpits, and Edgar felt himself being dragged. It was painful and uncomfortable, but all he could do was let it happen, head dropping to rest against his chest; his limbs were numb from the cold—and probably the alcohol—and his head was clouded and wispy, which was definitely because of the alcohol. He doesn’t know where he’s being taken by this stranger, nor does he understand why this person is so determined to interfere with his plan to die. If he’d come across someone wanting to die, he’d probably just let them as morbid as that sounded. That’s what Edgar told himself anyway, but he knew that deep down, he too, would be unable to turn a blind eye towards someone in need of help.

He just didn’t know when he became that person.

While he’s being dragged, Edgar let his mind drift away, tuning out the world and its surroundings, only allowing the most basic of information to register in his brain; the feeling of wet snow drenching the back of his pants, the fingers that are tightly gripped against him along with the coughing from his saviour, and the footsteps that hurry towards them.

Wait, footsteps?

Edgar tried to open his eyes, only to find he couldn’t. It felt like they’d been stapled shut, but he still tried, wanting to know who it was that had joined the stranger in helping him. But before he can ponder over it even more, Edgar found himself being lifted easily into someone’s arms—certainly not the first stranger, since he’d only been strong enough to drag Edgar around, so it could be only the second. There’s quiet chatter between the two strangers in a tongue that Edgar doesn’t recognize in his current state, but he can still tell that it’s foreign, and that it’s beautiful to listen to. Where English sounds like a flock of geese mindlessly honking at each other, this language sounds like a piano being played in the theatre, smooth and lilting.

It's with geese and pianos on his mind, that everything finally catches up with Edgar as his consciousness faded into nothing.

Edgar woke up to yet another stranger standing over him and checking his pulse, in a bed underneath an unfamiliar ceiling. It wasn’t the ceiling that came with the usual hospital someone of his class would find themselves in, which meant that he could be literally anywhere in the city. His eyes drifted from the ceiling to stare at the person—a doctor from the looks of him—that was standing beside his bed, taking note of the focused expression. The man was shorter than Edgar, but well dressed and serious; he could hear the doctor muttering under his breath in a voice he didn’t recognize as either of the two from the river, which meant that this was a third stranger that’d been dragged into this situation.

The guilt crashed through Edgar like a tsunami.

“Oh, you’re awake.” The doctor blinked at him, seemingly surprised that Edgar actually was awake. To be honest, Edgar too, was surprised; he didn’t usually wake up so quick after drinking so much, but that would explain why the world was still fuzzy at the edges, and the brick being smashed against his skull repeatedly. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Drinking.”

The doctor rolled his eyes, an amused look on his face. “Obviously. And quite a lot from the state of you when you were brought to me. Considering how much it was, you’re lucky to have even survived with just a hangover.”

Great. Just what I didn’t want. Edgar can’t help but scowl, and turned his head away. “When can I leave?”

“When I say you can.” The doctor said, unbothered by Edgar’s cold tone. He moved from where he stood over Edgar down to the foot of the bed and picked up a clipboard, flicking through the pages on it. “You need more rest to recover from your little adventure, and I’m not in the habit of letting my patients go when they aren’t a hundred percent. Or when they are at risk of throwing themselves into rivers.”

Edgar’s scowl grew even more. “What so you’ll just keep me here against my will?”

“I intend to. At least until the alcohol has left your system, and then you may do as you please.” The doctor smiles at him in a way that showed he intended to do exactly that, and that is enough for Edgar to become cautious of the man standing above him. There was just something about that look that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and it made him uncomfortable. He knew that if he wasn’t still under the influence, he’d be able to decipher just what that look meant, but for now, his thoughts were uselessly napping at the back of his mind.

“Fine.” Edgar grumbled and sunk into the bed as much as he was able to. As much as he didn’t want to stay here, he didn’t know where he was or who this person was—he didn’t even know if the other man actually was a doctor! But if all it took to please him was to lay in this bed until the room stopping spinning and he could walk out of there, then he’d do it, and continue with his plan another day at a different river, away from the prying eyes of foreign strangers roaming the streets at night. “I’ll stay here, wherever this is. With whoever you are.”

“Doctor Ougai Mori. Call me Doctor or Mori. And I must say I’m surprised to see someone of your calibre in my clinic of all places.” Mori said as Edgar opened his mouth to ask what the doctor meant, he promptly snapped it shut at Mori’s next words. “Edgar Allan Poe, son—adopted that is—of Lord and Lady Allan, and famous author who in recent years, has disappeared from society and become a total recluse with no one seeming to know why, although considering your current state, I can now see why. Depression that’s resulted in an alcohol addiction. Quite the killer you’ve landed yourself with.”

“You’ve done your research, Doctor.” Edgar spat. He was annoyed, angry even, that some doctor he’d never met before, knew so much about him when Edgar had no doubt spent his entire time here lying comatose on the bed. He wasn’t fond of people finding out who he was, especially since he, well, didn’t exactly want to live anymore, and had taken great care to erase himself from societies eyes, but apparently, even some no-name doctor he’d never heard of, knew who he was. Just great.

“Actually, I didn’t.” Mori raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by Edgar’s sudden animosity. He replaced the clipboard at the foot of the bed before taking residence in the chair beside it. “It was the boy that found and brought you to my clinic that shared that information. Couldn’t help himself, really, once he recognized you.”

Edgar glared at the man sitting by his bedside, becoming even more agitated when he noticed the smirk on Mori’s face. A memory of green eyes peering into his own lifeless ones flashed before his eyes that he squashed down immediately. “Are you quite done?”

“Not at all, but you’ve still got a few days of recovery, so I’d tone down that anger before it gets you into trouble. Unless, you want to cause a problem?” Suddenly it feels as if a chill has washed over the room as Mori stares down at Edgar with un unreadable look, and considering studying people and the expressions they make is what his job is, Edgar is more than uncomfortable; he’s the first to break eye contact. A chuckle. “That’s what I thought.”

Edgar fights the urge to throw his pillow at Mori as the doctor leaves the room, but instead settled for turning over and punching it just once, cursing at how much of a failure he was that he couldn’t even end his life properly, and that he’d wound up in some clinic that he still didn’t know the location of, with a doctor he only knew the name of and nothing else.

Yeah, if he had to rate these past few days, he’d put them at the top of his list of worst days of his life.

The next day, Edgar is awoken by the sound of the door to his room opening and he looks over to see a man that isn’t Mori entering with a tray of food in hand. The man appears to be older than Mori, silver haired with obvious age lines, but he’s equally as mysterious, and unlike Mori, he’s dressed in clothing that must be traditional to the land he had come from. This is not the stranger that had attempted to drag him—this man’s eyes are blue, not green—and Edgar felt intimidated as this stranger’s eyes fell upon him, almost as if he was being seen right through to his core.

“How are you feeling this morning?” The man asks, placing the tray on the bedside table before taking a seat in the chair next to his bed, and Edgar wished in that moment that the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Because, as drunk as he was, he still recognized the man’s voice; this was the one that had picked him up like he weighed nothing and carried him to this clinic when he hadn’t been able to stand.

And rather than answer the strangers question, Edgar just faced away from him instead. “You were there. At the bridge.”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“Why did we interfere in your attempt to throw yourself off a bridge? Or why we were even there in the first place?” Edgar glanced over his shoulder to see the man raising an eyebrow at him. “If your question is the second one, then that is the route we take to get home and we’d just been out in the country visiting one of the villages. It was mere coincidence that we passed by you. However, if you are asking about the first one, well, we are not the kind of people who would just leave someone to die.”

Despite doing his absolute best to ignore it, Edgar’s curiosity took over and he couldn’t help but return to face the stranger. Just who were these people that had saved him and why had they gone out of their way to help him in the first place? “And who is we?”

“Yukichi Fukuzawa. Fukuzawa is just fine though.” Fukuzawa introduced himself, sliding his arms into the sleeves of his… jacket? “I help Mori out with his patients.”

“So, you’re a nurse?” It was Edgar’s turn to raise an eyebrow. For some reason, Fukuzawa didn’t really strike him as the type of person to be a nurse; he just had this feeling about the man that told him being a nurse was the last kind of job he would do.

Fukuzawa shook his head. “I am not. I simply keep things clean in the clinic and provide food to patients.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun job.”

“It’s a job.” Fukuzawa narrowed his eyes in a way that had Edgar feel like he was being scolded even though nothing had even been said to him yet. But Edgar was a writer, a well-known one, and if there was one thing a writer was good at, it was reading between the lines of what people said and did, and that was exactly what he did. Don’t judge people you don’t know.

Edgar sighed and sat up in the bed, reaching over to grab a piece of the sandwich that was on the tray that Fukuzawa had brought him. It was a simple sandwich, with just chicken and lettuce, yet somehow it tasted better than anything Edgar had eaten before in his life, and considering his status meant he could eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, that was saying something. He stared at the sandwich and took another bite, and a memory crossed his mind, the same one that kept returning to him when he didn’t want it to.

A memory of green eyes.

“Who’s that boy that found me?” Edgar asked, and when Fukuzawa stared at him with an unreadable expression, he pressed onwards. “The one with green eyes?”

“My ward.” Fukuzawa answered after Edgar had begun to believe he’d never get an answer. He detected the protective note in Fukuzawa’s tone and knows that he will not be told any more than that if he tried to even ask. The man’s word choice is interesting though; ward, not son, which means that the boy is not biologically his child, yet he still protects him as if he is. Even more interesting is his desire to protect him from Edgar of all people, but he figured he shouldn’t be surprised really, not when he’d do the same—has done the same in fact, hence his isolation from society.

Edgar leaned against the headboard of the bed, uncomfortable in the silence that has fallen over the room. It wasn’t that the silence itself was uncomfortable, it was that Edgar just didn’t know what to say. Unlike with Mori, who had spent more time riling him up than anything else, Fukuzawa appeared standoffish and only seemed to say what was needed when it was needed, nothing more, nothing less. Meanwhile Edgar was the kind of person that needed the silence filled, even if it was just with mindless chatter, because it was what he had been raised with, and no matter how introverted he was, he had never been able to overcome the social skills that had been drilled into him ever since he was a child.

He was about to break the silence, drawing on every socially correct question he could think of when the door creaked open. Both Edgar and Fukuzawa turned towards the noise and Edgar’s breath caught in his throat when he caught sight of those green eyes he kept remembering, staring at him through the crack in the door. Now that he wasn’t drunk out of his mind, he could actually see what his rescuer looked like, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised to see that it was a child that had rescued him. Children often liked to stick their noses into business that wasn’t theirs to begin with, and it didn’t matter whether it was something harmless, or if it was trying to stop someone from killing themselves, they would get involved if they deemed it important for them to do so.

“I told you not to come here, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa stood from his chair and gave a slight bow towards Edgar. “My apologies, but I must leave you now. Mori will be by to check on you this afternoon and I will bring dinner for you tonight.”

The boy—Ranpo as Edgar had just learnt—whined, and the door opened just that little bit wider, but Fukuzawa was quick to block Ranpo from view before Edgar could see anymore of the boy. “But Fukuzawa! I want to meet him!”

“No, he is a patient right now and he needs to rest. Besides you have chores to do.” Fukuzawa left the room, the door gently closing behind him, cutting off whatever else the older man had been saying and leaving Edgar alone in the room. Again.

Edgar blinked, just a little stunned at what he’d just witnessed.

Apparently, he’d wound up in the care of some really strange people that right now, he only knew the names of.

Edgar was woken from his sleep when he felt something poke his cheek. He grunted and swatted away whatever it was that was poking him, fully prepared to go right back to sleep, only to be poked several more times, each harder than the other until finally, Edgar’s eyes flew open and he snapped. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Wow, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine. And after I saved your life too.” The boy, who’s green eyes Edgar had not been able to erase from his mind since first seeing them, grinned at him from the chair that’d been empty for hours.

Edgar blinked, eyes falling to the candle that was working hard to provide what little light there was within the room. A quick glance to the window showed that it was dark outside, and despite there not being a visible moon that night, Edgar was still able to estimate that it was roughly the middle of the night. After all, it was the perfect time to make a sneaky visit to a patient that one’s guardian didn’t want you interacting with. And Edgar would rather not get on the bad side of an overly protective old man, so he turned away from Ranpo and grumbled. “Your old man doesn’t want you interacting with me, so just go away.”

“But that’s no fun.” Ranpo whined, hands tugging at the blankets that covered Edgar. “Come on, talk to me! I’m bored, and you’re interesting.”

“Why? Because I tried to kill myself and failed? Is that what’s so interesting to you?” Edgar snapped, pulling the blankets free of Ranpo’s grip, and holding them tight so that this—this annoying child couldn’t grab them again. He really didn’t understand why this boy was so interested in him in the first place; he could put it down to the boy having read his works, but the stories he wrote were most certainly not the kind that a child should be reading. Not any sane child at least.

Ranpo huffed and sat back down in the chair. “No. That’s not why at all. Well, I lie, I am interested in why you want to kill yourself—I could figure it out anyway—but you’re not interesting because of that.”

I’m going to regret this. Edgar thought before he rolled over to give Ranpo his attention. “Then why am I so interesting to you?”

“Because you’re you.” Ranpo said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And from how genuine he looked saying that, it was clear that that was what Ranpo believed.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does!” Ranpo leaned over to rest his arms on the bed, his face suddenly much closer to Edgar’s than Edgar was comfortable with. “But I can see why you don’t believe me, considering how much you hate yourself right now.”

Edgar sputtered. “I do not—”

“Yes you do, otherwise you wouldn’t have isolated yourself from society, and you wouldn’t be lying here in Mori-sen—Dr Mori’s clinic after drinking yourself half to death and trying to throw yourself off a bridge. People who do things like that tend to hate themselves. A lot, actually.” Ranpo leaned in closer which forced Edgar to move back lest their faces touched. Apparently no concept of personal space was also something that Ranpo suffered from on top of absolutely no social skills. Because that was the one thing Edgar had taken away from this short time conversing, and it was beginning to tire him out more than he already was.

“Please move away from me.” Edgar pushed at Ranpo’s head with one hand, glad when the boy actually listened for a change and sat back upright in the chair. Once Ranpo was a respectable distance away he moved back to how he’d been laying before and sighed. “Look, kid—”

“I’m not a kid.” Ranpo interrupted.

“What?” Edgar paused at this new, quite sudden information. What do you mean you aren’t a kid? You literally look like a teenager?

“I’m only two years younger than you, Mr Poe. At least, if I am correct about you being twenty-two—which I know I’m right about—and I’m only twenty. So, yeah, two years difference.” Ranpo explained, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Edgar had, up until now, thought he’d been rescued by a random child, and that he was currently staring at Ranpo in open shock.

“I’ll hope you know that you look fourteen.” Edgar muttered, face burning in embarrassment at his most recent error. He was still struggling to believe that Ranpo was actually twenty years old, almost still unable to believe it, not when Ranpo looked as tiny and scrawny as he did.

Ranpo’s cheeks puffed out and he waved his arms about wildly; exactly like a child would when throwing a tantrum. “Rude! I do not look that young!”

“You do! And even if you didn’t, you act that young! Don’t you have any pride?” Edgar argued, and then turned to face away from Ranpo again, making it clear that he was done talking to him. Really, he should’ve stopped talking long before now, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from responding to Ranpo; he would like to say that it was because Ranpo was too annoying to ignore, but it wasn’t that at all.

It was the unpredictability of what came out of Ranpo’s mouth that made him so interested.

“Pride’s a little overrated, don’t ya think?” And of course, instead of taking the hints that Edgar had been dropping, Ranpo continued to be unpredictable. “I don’t know what how it is for people like you, who have money, but for people like me, there’s not a lot of pride to have when we have to constantly worry when our next meal is.”

Edgar looked over his shoulder to see Ranpo frowning, knees drawn to his chest and that always there smile, gone.

“Sure, I could take pride in myself, but what’ll that get me, really? Kicked to the ground by people who have even more pride? That’s so boring, and not to mention, painful.” Ranpo grinned widely, although Edgar could see that it was strained; he’d touched a nerve apparently. “It’s better to live your life the way you want to, without caring so much about what others think. Once you start caring about other’s opinions, that’s when you start to really fall apart and lose your pride.”

Silence fell between them for the first time since their first proper meeting, and Edgar returned to staring at the wall in front of him. He could hear Ranpo shuffling in his seat, clearly waiting for Edgar to say something, but honestly? Edgar didn’t know what to say. His view on the world was so dark and twisted that anything he dared to say could do more harm than good, especially to a boy like Ranpo who’s view had been tainted by his own experiences, but not shattered like Edgar’s already had been.

There was still hope for Ranpo, was the point that Edgar was trying to make, and he wasn’t going to be the one who took that hope from him.

He may not like Ranpo, and he may hate himself, but Edgar wasn’t a cruel person, not really.

“Sometimes—" Edgar began to say and swallowed, licking his lips when they suddenly went dry. Just shut up, Edgar! “—sometimes you can’t help but lose yourself in the opinions of others.”

There was a hum from behind him, and Edgar thought he could feel the weight of a hand on his shoulder, but it disappears just as fast as it appeared, and the door to his room creaks open once again. More light fills the person enters the room, carrying a lantern from the sounds of it, and Edgar finds he recognizes those footsteps.

“Ranpo…” Fukuzawa sighed, before beginning to scold Ranpo for sneaking into Edgar’s room. At least, that was what it sounded like Fukuzawa was doing, for aside from Ranpo’s name, he couldn’t understand anything that was being said. And when Ranpo cut the older man off and responded in the same tongue, he couldn’t understand those words either. But he did recognize the sound of the words being similar to the words spoken when Ranpo and Fukuzawa had rescued him. It must be their first language.

The bickering went on for several minutes, and Edgar continued to lay there, not at all bothered by the fact that the two were conversing in a language that he couldn’t begin to hope to understand or even try to decipher; it certainly wasn’t any kind of European language. Edgar knew the basics of most of those languages, his family having focused heavily on international relations, and apparently those went better when you knew the hosts home language.

Not that Edgar knew anything about relations in the first place, having none of his own anyway.

“Poe-kun, is that the reason why you tried to die?” Edgar turned over to see Fukuzawa with his hand on Ranpo’s shoulder, trying to guide the boy towards the door despite Ranpo’s best efforts to stay in the room long enough to hear his answer. Ranpo was looking at him, those green eyes of his focused intensely on him, and if Edgar looked closely enough, he could see sadness hidden deep within them.

And despite there having been a whole other conversation happening just before, Edgar knew exactly what Ranpo was talking about, what exactly it was that he was referring to, and he returned to staring at the wall, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. “Deduce it.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #ranpoe #edogawa ranpo #edgar allan poe #angst #hurt/comfort #fluff #romance #slow burn #1800s au #paperboy au #writing #fanfic #fukudad

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galacticwildfire · 1 year ago

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Fire Meet Gasoline | Poe Dameron

Excerpt from Chapter Ten

Poe Dameron x Solo!Original Character

Hope Solo’s haunted by the night the temple burned. Having gone rogue she hunts the First Order in search of answers until a fateful encounter with Poe Dameron brings her back to the Resistance and Leia puts her daughter under his command to find Luke Skywalker.

Fire Meet Gasoline (112504 words) by galacticwildfire Chapters: 12/? archiveofourown.org

Tags for excerpt: rivals to lovers, language, fighting, references to sex and an attempted one night stand that was cockblocked by threepio, age gap (20 and 29).

"Whether we like it or not I'm going to be your commanding officer so how about you and I go back in there so you can apologise to Leia and we can get started on this mission alright?" Poe continues to lecture. "You have every right to be frustrated right now but these sorts of scenes aren't gonna fly when I'm the one in charge of you."

"Oh don't act so innocent now Commander," I scoff despite a voice in the back of my mind begging me to just agree to go with him. "And don't even think about trying to pull rank with me."

He scoffs back at me now. "So you're going there?"

"Oh I'm going there since you're the one who's too scared to say there might be a little conflict of interest," I say and he looks around in panic as people quickly move past us in the hallway. "I'm used to guys like you wanting to get their fill only to realise it's not a good idea to do that with the General's daughter."

"Woah, back up now-" he says but I don't give him room to talk.

"At least the others don't try to patronise me afterwards!"

"You know you were the one pulling me towards the crew quarters right?" he reminds me and I'd almost forgotten he gives almost as good as he gets. Almost. "Because if you're going there then let's get the facts straight."

I laugh as I realise I'm not getting let off easy. "You're funny you know that?"

"Part of the charm," he says nonchalantly.

"So let's remember who was using those charms on me in that hangar huh?" I remind him. "Because you're the one who started this, not me."

"You haven't exactly brushed me off though," he says and leans in closer, not backing down as he shrugs. "Although I'm sorry to have to tell you that can't happen now since I'm not meant to fraternise with subordinates."

It seems I'm not the only one who can go low.

"Oh that is a relief," I laugh and stick a finger in his chest. "Because for a moment I'd forgotten the fact that you prefer to kiss up to my mother rather than be a big boy and own up to the fact that you wanted to fuck her daughter." His eyes widen but I'm not done. "Because unlike you I'm quite happy to march into that office and tell her what Threepio interrupted."

It's not a threat, but rather asserting the fact that I'm not ashamed even if he is. Either way, he definitely doesn't like the idea of that and refuses to look at me as he shakes his head with a clenched jaw, changing tactics when he realises he's not going to win that fight with me.

"If I'm going to be your commander you're going to have to grow up and get used to being spoken to like everyone else," he lectures and I truly can't help but laugh at that.

"Grow up?" I repeat and his eyes widen as he realises he's set and walked into his own trap. "Oh do you really want to go there commander because if you want to comment on my age-"

"Alright princess, you wanna go tell Leia then go tell Leia," he fires back before I can make this worse, calling my bluff. "Go on, because you'll be the one taken off this team and this mission, not me."

Any humour I had at this situation or imaginary advantage immediately disappears with the realisation that I am more dispensable than him and I fall utterly quiet, simmering with a rage I haven't felt since I was sixteen and Ben dared to try and tell me I was weaker than him.

Luke had to stop me from killing Ben after that, so this commander should be thanking whatever gods he prays to right now that I have more self control than I did back then. Although what he says next might just test that theory.

"But I don't think you will, because even if you go and throw another tantrum that would put a five year old to shame you want to prove yourself," he continues whilst holding my glare. "I just heard you in there saying you wanted to make your own name and this is how you do it, working hard and taking orders. Everyone else on I'm going to put on that team has earned their place. They're veterans of the Rebellion or served in the Republic Navy."

"And I was part of this Resistance from day one," I tell him, knowing I've worked hard even if I'm a screw up. "Let's get that straight."

"And what have you done for it?" he asks me, and just like that any co-operation flies out the window.

"Excuse me? You've been here what, a month? And you're acting like you're some hotshot, coming in here and talking shit about being the best pilot in the galaxy when you're the same as everyone else."

If I thought he'd take it and shut up I was wrong.

"I'm not the one acting like a spoilt princess because I have to earn my place back."

#poe dameron #poe dameron x oc #poe dameron x solo!oc #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x solo!original character

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ducktales-wco-oo · 2 years ago

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❝ ah don't know how any of this is my problem, ❞ scrooge is scooping up gold into his hat...smug expression on his bill like there wasn't a problem in the world. he takes a look at the raven that was perched on one of the thrones, turning his head when he sees it flap away, ❝ after all, YE TWO are the powerful sorcerers, right ? ❞ he adds, picking up his bag full of loot. ❝ and ya know -- she did make a challenge. ah just won. ❞ / to poe for the reverse au :3c

- ✩ 「 warraigoe 」 ✩

「 ☆ 」 ❝ No… No, no, no, NO— ❞ Poe breathes, barely-audible plea escalating into a frantic full-on cry for his sister, the sorcerer attempting to scramble toward the retreating sight. But his family the raven is already far beyond his reach, treacherous coins spilling around him— cold and cruel and worthless —as they refuse to offer support. All while Scrooge refuses to offer aid. ❝ Sister— SISTER, WAIT! ❞

❝ MAGICA!! ❞

But she’s gone… and Poe is left kneeling there, a hand outstretched as if he’d been expecting her to turn around and take it. As if, after what he has done to her, she’d even want to. Trembling, it falls to the ground with a broken release of breath, gaze following it to stare at the floor. Slowly, his fist closes, gaze fogging over with bitter tears he doesn’t care to hide. They don’t matter. Not right now. Besides, this will be the last time Scrooge McDuck ever sees them. Poe will be sure of that. After this night, no matter how it may end, there will be no time for pointless tears.

Only action.

Golden hues glow with a rage unmatched by even his sister, their light enhanced by the pain glossing over. ❝ It might not have been ‘ your problem ’… but now? NOW, it very much is. ❞ Barely spoken, quiet yet firm words shake with unmistakable emotion. Anger and fear and loss and unrestrained hatred for this man— this mere peasant… who dared to put his sister at risk. To force him to be ALONE. Hopefully not for long, but… No. He’ll get her back. He’ll make amends. And then, when reunited, they’ll have their revenge on the one who wandered where he did not belong.

❝ Pray, Scrooge. Pray to whoever you revere— whether that’s a being or the almighty coin. ❞ Standing upright, movements are as smooth as his words, gold falling from his palm to clatter upon the ground. Unheeded. Unwanted. Focus is trained entirely on Scrooge, his demeanor composed as fresh snow… his eyes holding the unrelenting chaos of the sun. ❝ Pray that I find my sister, and plea that she is unharmed… Because whatever is going to happen next, depends entirely on her safe return. ❞

He doesn’t move toward Scrooge. There’s work to be done… Besides, he’ll find him when the time comes. Poe is certain of it.

He refuses any other outcome. 「 ☆ 」

#ducktales-wco-oo #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʟᴠᴇᴛ ꜱɪɴᴋɪɴɢ; ɪ ʙᴇᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴛᴏ ʟɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ❞ ¦ 「 Poe IC 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴏᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀ; ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ❞ ◌ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ᴀᴜ ¦ 「 Poe 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟʟ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Scrooge 」#warraigoe #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ꜱᴡᴏᴏᴘꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

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nothingofvaluewaslost · 10 months ago

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STORY: The Silence in the Eye

Horror; visceral. Based on the prompt "a story inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's 'The Tell-Tale Heart'."

If you enjoyed it, feel free to visit my Patreon.

The Silence in the Eye, by Christina Nordlander

No longer to be able to trust one’s senses is such a fate that one may argue whether it is milder than the gallows: to live out one’s life in chains that are intended to keep one alive, with a soul that has turned from the body’s sovereign to its parasite, which lies to itself, paralyzes itself with terror, and pre-empts the very Pit with a thousand scourges that have never been found within its walls. I do not believe that I am insane, but how might I trust my sensations, when desire is more powerful?

Posit, however, that I am insane; that what I fear more than Hell has already happened. I do not wish to consider it, but I cannot seek a remedy if I refuse to acknowledge the possibility. Can you then say whether it was madness that prompted me to commit the deed, or whether it was what I have done, and suffered, that fired the first shot? Perhaps I must relate all events, with all the acuity of which I am capable, so that you too may decide which is the truth.

It pains me to speak of my feelings for the old man, for they are thankless and less cordial than he deserved. He let me into his home, and shared more of food and board than the law requires of one not one’s own blood, but he was often curt, cross, or violent. Loving him was hard; too hard for me.

Yet he did not deserve such a fate.

I would never have raised my hand against him. It was his one eye, the sick one, that I hated.

I can attempt to describe it, but I sense that even if I amass details, I will not be able to give you an inkling of the effect it has had upon me. Imagine an eye – the right one –, drawn over with a pale film: not entirely intransparent, but so near as to make it nigh impossible to tell white from iris or iris from pupil; so thick that it is impossible to determine which processes of putrefaction have begun within.

Perhaps these details disgust you? I think, however, that the deeper meaning might evade you. Of force, I lived in his house day and night – although night, when that eye was buried in its lid, frightened me less –, and the thought came frequently that it would infect me, that the same film would grow on my eye, unable to be cut away, or send thready roots into the deeper layers of the orb, and the thought came frequently that his eye had changed, or turned, into something else, and that something not of this earth observed me through it. I thought, as I watched him while I set the table or heated his bed-cushions, that the lid over that eye lowered less than its counterpart, as if he used it to always keep watch over me. I also thought that the right side is the one associated with goodness and reason, and that if the right eye were thus blemished, might not his very being be eaten through with corruption?

My most recurring fear, however, was that of contagion. As his servant, I was always close to his person, and it occurred to me that, as his health worsened, I would of force need to dry his eye, wash it, handle it. I knew that on that day, that unknown germ would enter me, or else I would live sick with fear until it happened. My right eye would weep, and the tears would not run, but lie as a coating on its surface until it could weep no more.

Flee? For a while I might have been able to entertain the thought, even if I would have had to live in the gutter, with the autumn sky growing cold above me. Now I no longer dared try. I knew that the eye kept watch, and I knew that I would find all doors locked, or my possessions half charred in the heating-stove, the moment I took the leap.

Perhaps I am insane. Does not, then, any man go insane who is forced to live with terror, during daytime and in his dreams?

I took the greatest bread-knife in the kitchen and ground it until it could take no more edge, until the edge was as thin as silk. I found a dark lantern in the basement and tried it with a candle-end during a moment of freedom. The opening was too great, so I drilled a little hole in the shutter, and saw a beam that was strong enough to give lead-light. None of these actions was irreversible. It was the realization that I might still return to my daily life that let me go on, as if this might still be a rehearsal.

The final evening, after I had lit the old man to his bed where the sheet-linen was still rustling and dry from the hot-water bottle, I washed clouts and hung them to dry before the stove, and realized then that I had taken the last step and could no longer turn back, no more than one falling. I washed my hands several times. I lit my lantern, took the clouts and the knife, and padded through the hallway to his bedroom, and after each step I tarried, until I knew beyond all doubt that I had not made a sound, and then took the next.

The doorknob moved soundless in my grip. I took the first step onto the bedchamber floor, alien – it seemed to me – like a frozen lake, and stepped towards the drawn bed-curtain with the beam swinging without restraint on the floorboards before me.

The hangings slid aside with a sound like a breath. I realized that I could not turn the lantern forward, lest the beam would fall on his eye and my courage fail me. I set the lantern on the scuffed and rickety nightstand. It should have made a noise; the parts of the lantern should have clattered, the joins should have creaked. Perhaps the noises arose, but I was in a circle of silence.

I do not wish to put words on what followed. Let this relation be the place where I may say “it was done.” In that phrase, I tie up all that night had of exhausting nightmares, and make it into something scoured and completed. It was done, and I took the clouts down to the laundry and put them in the tub so that they dyed the water pink. I put all my clothes in the wash, even those that were not bespattered, and put my hands in the hot lye-drenched water until the pain faded again, leaving only a vague tingling.

My peace of mind endured one day. The following, raw and grey with rain that made a mud-flood of the refuse in the gutter, two men called and identified themselves as officers of the law.

I went out into the kitchen and made tea, and the old man sat slack in the dully red-patterned armchair while the policemen pulled out chairs. I was aware of the different objects as if a web of taut strings ran between them: the knife, now brightly scoured in its rack; the old man with his white bandage across the right side of his face; and the thing I had sunk deep beneath the floorboard.

As I returned to the dining-room, the jangling tray balanced in my hands, no-one’s looks showed any sign of understanding.

I poured tea for all, and went to stand by the armchair in the event that my presence would be required. My eye itched. It was the kind of itch that would have been resolved in a moment, had I been able to use my fingers. Resolved; the word reminded me of something fluid, something that wept until only liquid was left. Even its constituent sounds were mixed and runny. I had washed my hands in lye until my skin no longer resembled skin, and yet nothing could have brought me to touch my eyes with my bare hands. I stood there, hearing them question the old man, and remembered one of the Norse tales from a book I had had as a child, of Loki turning himself to a gadfly and stinging the eyelid of a dwarf blacksmith to distract him from his work. I tried to blink to make the tears run and take the pain with them – it was pain now –, but it occurred to me that my flickering eyelid was more noticeable to the officers than a quick raising and lowering of my hand. If I had been allowed a moment’s solitude, I would have dried my eye with a corner of my garment.

The officers spoke, the old man replied. I do not remember their words. I clawed my palm with my fingernails, time and again, as if I might fool my body into thinking that I was rubbing the eye, and I did not think that the motion and the play of my features might be noticeable to them. In my mind, I had put my eye out, half a dozen times.

At last I heard chair-seats creak and saw legs straighten. The officers shook hands once more with the master of the house, and filed into the entryway. I followed them out as they grabbed hats and coats, and was so relieved, I did not know whether I walked or floated.

They left, and I rubbed my eye with a strip of fabric, and the weeping did not stop. Had I then touched my eye after the deed? I racked my mind and could not remember.

The old man had fled to his bedroom. Perhaps he had locked the door, as if he would not have to open it sooner or later.

And what lay buried beneath the floorboards never made a sound.

THE END

#fiction #dark #horror #fanfiction #poe #eye #short #tell-tale heart #gore #edgar allan poe

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goodlives-mitansh · 1 year ago

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How To Improve Memory Power | 8 Effective Tips!

‘Do you ever look at someone and wonder… what is going on inside their head’ ~happy from inside Out

What is Memory Power?

Memory is like the colorful sparkles added to a cake after it is baked! Having memory power adds flavor as well as color to a pale simple life.

The intellectual power-scientifically-is actually just like muscular strength. It is the power to retain and recall information and past experiences. The memory power in your brain allows you to access tons of things — ranging from simple multiplication tables to embarrassing moments. The word memory complies with both the respective facts and experiences you remember as well as the brain’s ability to contain it all.

‘To observe attentively is to remember distinctly!’ ~Edgar Allen Poe

Why Do We Need To Have Good Memory Power?

The world is filled with distractions and chaos. To lead a successful life, focus has to be the key. And memory helps you focus better. From time to time new technologies and advancements beg for attention. Recalling and attaining past memories, keeps the mind focused and at its full potential. Moreover having a sharp memory serves a good purpose at the office, at family, or friend gatherings. Following through, a good memory power also helps in any job you do, remembering terms and procedures helps with fast learning and rapid growth!

How To Improve Memory Power?

By now I am confident you know what importance a good memory serves! Now, to help you through this journey listed below are some of the top suggestions to support in improving your photographic memory.

1) Learning something new

Attempting to try something new every day or every week can really make your brain work more efficiently, and also improve your remembrance. The ‘something new’ doesn’t always have to be something tough or daring. You can just simply learn quilting or pick a new comfortable language. This way you always will have something exciting going on in your daily plain routine too.

2) Schedule and organize

To improve your memory skills it is essential that you first organize your data. When you manage all your tasks, a crystal clear picture is painted in your head which in turn helps you remember eidetically. If you have all your emotions and day-to-day chores mixed up it is much more likely for you to get puzzled and forget the stuff. To get over this problem you can try making a to-do list, where you write down all your day’s duties. Try writing down the checklist on paper instead of typing digitally, because it is easier to remember something that you had written than something you had typed down.

Do you want to know the 10 important tips that could help you study hard?

3) Power of Visualization

Visualizing any concept idea or abstract in your head is a great way to imprint it in your long-term memory resulting in having good memory power. When you imagine something in your brain rather than just listening and forgetting, you understand the concept making it reliable in your long-term memory

4) Consume Less Added Sugar

You may wonder, ‘what has sugar to do with anything related to memory power?’ Well, let’s clear out the clouds… Throughout the system, excess sugar is toxic. Even a single instance of elevated glucose in the bloodstream can be proven harmful to the brain, resulting in slowed cognitive function and deficits in attention and memory. Moreover too much added sugar like sodas and concentrated beverages not only harms the brain i.e. the memory but also paves way for other health diseases.

5) Try Meditating

If you want to increase your memory power naturally mediating needs to be a part of your lifestyle. Meditating for at least 20 minutes a day can really prove to increase your memory power really fast. Adding that routine meditation increases blood flow to the brain, which leads to a stronger network of blood vessels in the cerebral cortex reinforcing the memory capacity.

6) Don't view a bright screen just before bed

The blue light that your smartphone emits doesn’t ideally harm your vision, but also your brain. The bright screen from any device like TV, computers, laptops or phones can suppress melatonin. Melatonin is a hormone primarily associated with control over the sleep-wake cycle. By having suppressed or damaged melatonin your sleep cycle is disturbed probably making you sleep deprived. Which in turn makes it hard for your brain to remember stuff as it is reckless and tired. So the only advice I give you is to put away the phones!

Did you know about online therapy and how it works? Well here is your chance!

7) Try attempting brain teasers every now and then

Attempting brain teasers is a really good way to keep your brain on its toes. This way the neurons in your brain always stay alert and grab as much information as possible.

8) Get some sleep!

It is long known that sleep is needed in order to attain the fresh and working capacity of the brain. A study published in 2014 found that sleeping after learning something new actually leads to physical changes in the brain. Sleep has a huge role to play in terms of memory consolidation. It is a process in which short-term memories are amplified and inscribed into long-lasting memories. Sleeping is probably your answer to the question, How to improve memory power naturally.

VIsit Goodlives for more such content.

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starraised-archive · 7 years ago

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HC + lara's dangerous ass career. ( poe. )

SEND ME ‘HC’ + A WORD AND I’LL TELL YOU A HEADCANON ABOUT MY MUSE(S) BASED ON IT. || accepting || @raidstombs

“CAN YOU NOT PUT YOURSELF IN HARMS WAY FOR LITERALLY FIVE SECONDS? I’M TIRED OF CARRYING YOU OUT OF JUNGLES AND DESERTS BECAUSE YOU’RE BEAT UP ALL THE TIME.”

additionally: “you're amazing at what you do but you REALLY need to put yourself first once in a while so my job is more flying and less fireman carrying you.”

#me: queue this #poe: how dare you even attempt it #hc ( poe )#crack? maybe.#raidstombs #>> incoming transmission

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absolutelyfizzing · 3 years ago

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he promised

poe dameron x reader

description - Poe always promised he would come back from missions. One time he doesn't. (Ends in fluff i promise i promise)

warnings - depression?, anxiety?, fem pronouns, talk of injury and death, grief, fluff at the end, use of petnames, reader gets carried for a while and sits on a lap, mentions of eating and eating avoidance (not ed)

word count - 3800

A/N - so this was an oops. I wrote this hella fast but i was in the zone and i am pretty happy with the emotionally devastating product. I promise it has a happy ending i just dont want to give too much away. I feel like for maximum emotional damage you need to be a little in the dark. anyway, forgive me

MASTERLIST

You were stood in the command center with your hands wringing together. No matter how many missions Poe went on, the waiting was always hell. How were you supposed to remain sane when the love of your life was out fighting a battle that he might not come back from. That you might never see him again. He always reassured you that he would always come back to you. That you never had anything to worry about. You tried to believe him, and for the most part you did, but that didn't prevent you from being worried when he was gone.

You listened through the coms, trying to keep track of what was happening during the battle. Leia let you stay in there because she had a soft spot for you, as well as the pilot you were worried about. You were thankful she let you listen in on every mission, it meant that you weren't alone worrying in the room you shared with Poe. The conversation over coms was rushed and loud, they were scared and that made your heart beat faster.

'I have to go through, they're gonna come after us if I don't.' You heard your fiance yell. Worry stuck in the pit of your stomach, he was going to take a risk, you could feel it.

'Poe, it's not worth it. We should get out of here while we still can'. You agreed, wanting him to get out of there as soon as possible. You prayed he would listen and just get out.

'I have to try, I can't go back knowing that they could be following us to base.'

'Poe wait-' You heard someone rush out before comotion ensued again. You could feel your heart in your throat. You could have cried. After a minute of listening to pure chaos, nobody in the control room dared to speak a word. Everyone was waiting for an indication of what to do from the squadron. You found yourself zoning out in your worry. You were only broken out of your trance when you heard your fiance's name.

'Poe is down.' You stopped breathing.

"Down? What do you mean down?" You heard Leia call over comms.

'I'm sorry commander, he got hit. His X-Wing engine got shot and he was heading to crash on the planet right below us, his coms died. There's no way to know if he made it through but I don't know many who could take that crash and live. We have to head out and hope he comes back to base but I wouldn't get my hopes up.'

"Get out of there while you still can. We will have to worry about Poe when we gather our strength." Leia responded and the squadron called their understanding before the process of bringing them home began. You hadn't moved. You weren't sure if you had breathed. Your body was fully numb. You could feel eyes on you as everyone waited for you to respond. To show some emotion of your boyfriend having just gone MIA. You couldn't feel yourself though, your fingertips were numb, and you refused to believe he was dead. He promised. He told you he would come home.

Your brain was split between trying to grieve for the loss of the love of your life and trusting that he would be back. That he had to come back because he promised he would and he never breaks a promise. You felt hands on you and you realized you had fallen to sit in your spot. Leia was above you and was ushering you to your feet. You mindlessly let her push you somewhere and you barely even looked to see where you were going.

Eventually you showed up at your apartment door. You couldn't tell whether it felt like it had been instantaneous or an eternity to get there. Leia unlocked your door and pushed you inside and to the small couch that was stood in the living room-like space. The apartments were all very small, Poe had one a little bigger because he was housing with another person and because of his rank. Still, the extra amenities included a small couch, a smaller kitchen, and a window along the bedroom wall. When Leia sat you on the couch she kneeled in front of you. Her hand went to your cheek and you looked at her for the first time since you'd heard Poe go down. She seemed to almost be in tears but your eyes were dry. You didn't feel anything.

"Y/N, what can I do?" She asked gently. "Do you need anything?" You felt yourself shake your head and open your mouth like you were going to talk but closed it again as you thought.

"He said... He said he was coming back." You stated as if it changed the situation. "He promised." You mumbled.

"I know, Y/N. I am so sorry." She tried to console and your head shook. "We don't know what happened after he went down. You heard the team. He might contact us in the next few days, he is a smart man and he knows how to get a message out. But I don't want it to hurt you more if he never does." She tries to reason and you shook your head.

"No, you don't understand. He promised, " your head was spinning, "he's coming back." You felt tears fall down your face. When had you started crying? "He promised me that he was coming back home." Your voice broke which surprised you. Before you knew it you were crying into Leia's arms and you couldn't stop yourself. That was how you stayed with her for a while after, you weren't sure how long. She shed some tears of her own but eventually you both ran dry. You lost feeling again and you couldn't tell if it was better or worse. You made a decision. You wouldn't grieve over him until you were sure he was not coming back. You wouldn't mourn until you were sure.

The alternative was not, however, to recover. Instead you just stopped doing anything at all. You stopped eating, taking care of yourself, caring. Soon, your friends came in to talk to you. Instead of it being conversation though, they just talked at you. You couldn't bring yourself to respond or really even listen. Or maybe you did but you just couldn't remember. They would periodically come through to help you into a shower in which you just let the water run over you while someone else, you thought maybe Rey but you couldn't even recall, washed your hair. You drank water when they asked and would take a bite of food if they begged but other than that you might as well have been dead to the world. You almost hadn't realized how much of a vital part to your existence Poe was. How little you could bring yourself to do without him. You had thought you were prepared to be separated, you were in the middle of a war after all. Instead it was impossible to do anything without him and you wondered how long you could keep doing it.

This went on for a week. That was how long it took for them to declare him 'killed in action'. They felt that, if he was alive, he would have found a way to contact the base with the help of BB8 and local lifeforms. That was when you allowed yourself to grieve. The numbness turned into pain and it was a million times worse. You would have given anything to go back to numb.

You finally listened to your friends when they talked to you but their consolations did nothing to put you at ease. You still struggled to do anything but you complied with their pleads. You had been convinced, 2 weeks after the KIA announcement, to go to the canteen. To see people and interact. Finn pulled you along with an attempt at a smile on his face. Your face was blank but you tried to soften your eyes. You knew he was trying to help and he was grieving the loss of his best friend as well. When you were pulled into the large cafeteria, all noise ceased. You knew that they were looking at you and you guessed that they pitied you. You had seen yourself in the mirror that morning and you would have pitied you too. You got pulled to a table and Finn went to go get you and himself food.

People periodically came by and said hello or asked how you were as you tried to eat something. You responded with one word answers usually and you hadn't met anyone's eyes. You could feel yourself getting overwhelmed and decided you would head back to your room. You quietly thanked Finn for trying and left to the hallway.

Suddenly, alarms sounded. You were startled into awareness and people began running past you.

'ALL EMERGENCY CREW TO FLIGHT DECK'

You were curious about the alarm but you weren't emergency crew and you knew they didn't need any more bodies there than would already be there. That was until you heard someone as they rushed by as they talked to the medic next to them.

"Yeah I heard it was him but he went missing weeks ago." They sounded confused and continued jogging toward the flight deck. You feet started moving before you could even process it and it was the fastest you'd moved since he had gone missing. Since he had died.

When you got to the flight deck there was already a crowd. You could see over the see a people a beat up X-Wing. You thought you might have heard a droid. You elbowed your way to the front of the crowd, not apologizing when people grumbled their frustrations at you. When you made it to the front you were stood no more than 50 feet from him. He was soot covered and beat up but he was standing as he tried to wiggle out of the grasp of the medics. BB8 beeped and turned, spotting you. He made a loud excited noise and rushed to roll over to you and Poe turned at the sound. When he met your gaze he smiled.

You felt your knees give out and tears start to fall from your eyes. Your arms crossed over your stomach and you started to curl into a ball over your knees. A sob left you and suddenly large warm hands were on your shoulders.

"Y/N? My love, are you okay?" He rushed out, checking over you for injury as the medics still grumbled about needing to see him. His hand came under your chin to move your face so he was making eye contact with you. You let out another sob before grabbing his vest and pulling him into you, he kneeled to the ground as you clung to him and cried into his chest. He moved himself so he was sitting on the ground and he pulled you into his lap. You felt his hands on your back trying to soothe you but you couldn't stop crying. "I'm back. I'm so sorry I was gone but I'm back." He mumbled out as he kissed your head a few times.

"I'm so angry at you." You whispered and he almost laughed, just happy to hear your voice. You finally pulled your head out of his chest and kissed him like your life depended on it, like it was the last time you would ever see him. You pulled away so you were looking into his eyes. "Please don't leave me," you begged almost silently. You weren't even sure if he could hear you. "Please don't leave again."

"I'm not leaving, baby, I promise." He tried to calm you. "I'm right here. I'm okay."

You nodded, trying to convince yourself that he was real and he was here. You kissed him again just to check. You pulled away again, still trying to convince yourself.

"You died." You struggled out and Poe felt tears in his eyes as well. "You were dead, you crashed and you didn't make it and then they said you were gone." You said like that was what happened.

"I didn't die, my love. I'm right here. I'm alive, I'm okay." Poe pleaded and he grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his face so you could feel him. Your hand moved along is jaw which was now covered in stubble and grime. Your head shook like you were disagreeing with him but you were simply in disbelief.

"I love you" You mumbled as your eyes traced the lines of his face and tears fell from your eyes. He let a few tears fall as well before pressing meaningful kisses to every part of your face that he could reach.

You spent the next 2 hours like that. You wouldn't leave his hold and he didn't try to move you. The medics worked around you and everyone greeted him without disturbing you. You stayed, on his lap, curled into his chest. Your breathing had slowed to a normal pace and you were holding onto his vest tightly. Eventually, he had to be debriefed. He petted your hair and cooed at you to catch your attention.

"Y/N, my love," he whispered, "we have to get up now." He felt you nod but you made no move to get up from him. He took a breath before moving you off of his lap as you whined, standing up, and then picking you up so you could wrap yourself around him. You hummed contentedly into his chest and he had a smile on his face as he walked through the base.

"I love you." You whispered again into his chest. You had been doing it periodically every so often in the last 2 hours and every time Poe would repeat it back to you, kiss your head, or say something else. This time he chose to kiss your head.

"Baby, I have to go to the debriefing now and you know you can't come with me." He tried to say gently but he knew this separation might be hard for both of you. "I'm gonna put you down." He warned before encouraging your legs to go to the floor. You listened but didn't release his neck which you were also clung to. His hands fell to your waist and you both stood for a moment with your heads in each others necks and breathing deeply. "I'm gonna hand you off to Rey, okay?" He asked as he flagged down Rey from the hallway.

"Okay." You whispered, still not releasing him.

"Hey, Rey, sorry to bother you but could you keep Y/N company for a few minutes while I talk to Leia and the squadron?"

"Oh of course!" Rey chirped and you took a deep breath before releasing Poe. You let him kiss your cheeks and your nose before he walked the other direction toward the command center. You stared at him until Rey put her hand in yours and clasped it. You turned to look at her and for the first time in weeks, she saw you smile. "I'm so happy for you, Y/N." She assured and you believed her.

"Thank you." You whispered and another tear fell from you, this time of joy and happiness. Not grief.

"What do you say to heading to your room and get cleaned up a bit, yeah?" She tried and you nodded, following where her hand lead with one last glance toward the direction that Poe went.

"-the converter didnt even work until a day ago because the main power source broke down." Poe finished explaining his time on the planet he had crashed on and the rest of the squadron nodded and asked a few more questions. Once he was done, Finn met him outside the command center.

"So-" he paused, "I'm not sure how to say this nicely but most of your stuff went into the redistribution center because you were presumed dead." He rushed out. Poe took a moment to process and nodded.

"Well that's sort of a bummer. Could I borrow some of your stuff?" Poe asked, knowing it would take at least a day for him to get reassigned sets of uniforms.

"Yeah of course, that's why I'm standing here waiting for you. You could get cleaned up in my room too if you want. I know Y/N kept a few of your jackets and shirts but most of it got taken." The boys began to walk toward Finn's living quarters and there was a moment of silence before Poe asked something he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

"What happened when I was gone?" His throat felt dry suddenly and his words came out hoarse. "To Y/N I mean. Was she okay?" Poe wasn't sure what answer he wanted. He knew from your recent reaction that you were devastated, as he would have been, but he also knew he had a dangerous job. He might not come back from some other mission in the future and he hoped you would survive without him.

"Do you really want to know?" Finn questioned.

Poe nodded.

"I mean, she was broken." He paused to think. "She didn't talk to anyone for a week. Wouldn't move. Wouldn't cry. Rey had to help her shower and we had to beg her to eat. We almost sent her to the med wing because we thought she was gonna pass out from dehydration, she would barely take a sip of water." Poe's heart was in his throat but he was sure there was more. "Then you were pronounced KIA."

"Oh god."

"Yeah it wasn't pretty. They pulled your stuff out of your guys' room, took your name off the ledger. Leia let her keep some stuff but it was hard to watch. She finally cried, she just wouldn't stop. She was more responsive but she wasn't even moving towards okay. You could tell she was only doing what we were asking because we were begging. That she was doing it out of guilt. Today was actually the first day that I talked her into coming out of her room. She had been to the canteen for about an hour when she felt she needed to leave and then alarms sounded that you were back." Finn finished with a glance to his friend and Poe looked like he might throw up.

"I want her to be okay if I don't make it back one day." Poe tried to explain to his friend.

"She probably would have been functioning in a few months. She wouldn't have recovered but she would function. She's a strong woman, but she also loves you a lot. I mean, how would you react if she was killed on mission?" Poe could tell it was a rhetorical question but he thought about it very carefully. You were an engineer so you weren't called out on mission often, not nearly as often as him. When you were, he was worried sick the whole time. He hadn't really thought about how him being gone affected you before. Now looking back on it he kicked himself for it.

Poe thought about what he would have done if you had died and he thought that your reaction was probably mild. That he would have been unresponsive for weeks or even become violent with anger and grief. He knew that you were the one for him, the most important thing in his life, and without you he didn't know if he would find purpose in his life anymore. He fought in the war as hard as he did for you. To make the galaxy safer for you.

When he went MIA it was because he tried to take out a couple more imperial ships than he could handle. He only did it because he knew they would have followed them back to base if they left. Back to you. So he took the risk and it backfired but he knew he would do it again to try and keep the First Order away from you.

He was knocked out of his train of thought by the arrival at Finn's quarters. Poe tried to get cleaned up and dressed quickly, getting the grime off of himself and shaving his face. He hurried back to your shared quarters and when he entered his room he was greeted with your smiling face as you laughed.

You were sat on the bed, Rey on the other end, as you were talking about something which caught you in a fit of giggles. At the sound of him stepping into the room you looked at him and got up quickly to rush up and hug him tightly.

"Missed you." You mumbled into his chest. As he held you Rey silently nodded at Poe and left the room.

"Was only gone for a minute, honey bun." He reassured and you pulled your face back.

"You know I hate that one."

"Boo bear?" he teased and you shook your head no. "Munchkin?" nope. "honey bear?" no thank you. "Baby love?" You tilted your head a bit.

"I don't loathe that one."

"Sweetheart?"

"I like that one."

"Princess?"

"That's my favorite" You giggled and kissed him quickly for a moment. He could have cried at the sight of you giggling. He had missed that, you, the sounds you made, so goddamn much. More than he would ever put into words.

"I know it is, pretty girl." He smiled before picking you up and you squealed. He walked you over to the bed before dropping you on it and laying next to you. You climbed close to him, practically laying on his chest. His arm was snug around your waist and he left no room for you to move, not that you would have anyway. "How would you feel about going to bed, princess?" He almost whispered, not wanting to disrupt the fragile quiet in the room.

"Yes please. I love you Poe." You whispered back and closed your eyes a bit, focussing on his breathing.

"I love you, Y/N" he responded.

You both got the first decent sleep you'd had in weeks that night.

#poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader imagine #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x reader fluff #poe dameron x y/n #star wars fluff #star wars the force awakens #star wars the last jedi #poe x y/n #poe dameron blurb #poe dameron drabble

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userpoe · 4 years ago

Note

i just spent 5 minute staring at those prompts trying to decide *which one* i wanted for Poe and then got so overwhelmed with soft feelings that i closed out of the page BUT I'M BACK. uh. 2 or 48?

2. Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

(1.3k words....”drabbles” I said. warnings: none, just fluff I think)

Try as you might, you couldn’t sleep. You tried not to toss and turn very much, worried you’d wake the man beside you if you did, but you did shift so that you were lying flat on your back so you could stare up at the ceiling. The base was quiet, almost eerily so, and the most you could hear was the soft whirs of BB-8 on his charging port, and the soft snores from Poe next to you.

You’d napped in his room plenty of times before, but it was the first time you’d slept overnight at his quarters. The heating was out in your quarters, and the tech team wouldn’t be able to send someone over until morning, so Poe had humbly offered you stay with him.

“You could always just sleep with me,” he’d said earlier that evening, leaned up against the door jamb. He wouldn’t dare take more than a few steps into your room, frigid as it was inside. He was from Yavin IV, the cold wasn’t exactly his favorite kind of weather.

You’d been standing in your room, an armful of sweaters bunched up into your arms - your irrational plan of being able to still sleep in your quarters had been to just to throw literally every piece of clothing you had on your cot with you for extra warmth as if the D’Qar winter air didn’t already have your teeth clattering - when he spoke, and you’d nearly dropped the whole load, fixing him with a skeptical glare, “Excuse me?”

“Not like that, get your mind outta the cockpit.” Poe rolled his eyes and you had temporarily considered throwing a sweater at his head for the hell of it. He held his hands up in supplication as if he knew what you were thinking (which he probably did), “I just meant so you had somewhere warm to stay tonight.”

Your grip went slack on your pitiful pile of clothes as you began to consider his offer. You really didn’t want to spend the night freezing, especially since you had so much to do tomorrow: you had been assigned the glorious duty of cataloging all the droids on base to make sure they were all up in tip-top shape.

Then, of course, Poe couldn’t just keep his mouth shut, and he continued innocently, “But I mean if you had other ideas on keeping warm, then I’m all -” the rest of his sentence never made it past his lips, because you’d promptly thrown a sweater at his head. He caught it just before it struck home, eyes crinkled at the corners as he spotted the tiny smile on your face.

“If I do,” you’d told him, dropping the rest of the sweaters at the foot of your bed, “you’ll be the first to know. But are you serious about the place to stay?”

He’d been serious about the place to stay. Poe even offered to sleep on the floor when you arrived at his quarters, all bashful and endearingly boyish when you stepped into his room. It was surprisingly minimalistic, with only a handful of holos (his parents, some from the Colossus and then the Flight Academy, and some more recent ones from the Resistance, including a candid one of you and him that Snap had taken a few months ago), some holopads, a caf machine, and a couple leather jackets - the one he most frequently wore, the flight jacket, was hung up carefully on the back of his desk chair.

You hadn’t taken him up on his offer of him sleeping on the floor, because he needed his sleep too, and you didn’t mind sharing a mattress with him. Really, he was a comforting presence, and you could easily be lulled to sleep by that alone, but it was - more difficult than you expected to adjust to sleeping somewhere that wasn’t your room.

Beside you, Poe stirred in his sleep. He shifted from lying on his side to onto his back, like you. His movement made some of the duvet fall off his chest, and you frowned again at his choice of sleepwear (a black tank top, in the middle of winter. Granted, he did keep his room warm, but still, it was so paradoxical to the man who’d refused to so much as put one foot in your room that it made your head spin).

You risked some movement to pick the blanket up and tug it back over him. You leaned over him so you could tuck it around his frame for good measure, so no drafts could feasibly wake him up. As you worked, you got the distinct feeling of being watched, so you glanced back at him and found him smiling up at you from hooded, sleepy eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice groggy.

You hesitated a beat before answering, your cheeks warm. “Tucking you in.”

His smile increased in both size and warmth, “Aww, I knew you cared - ow,” he grunted as you punched him lightly on the shoulder, your own grin slightly wicked. He picked up one hand from under the duvet, knocking loose your work, and you started to admonish him before your words slipped from your mind as he put his hand on your waist.

His palm was warm, even through the fabric of your sleep shirt, and your breath hitched. Your reaction wasn’t missed by him, and he pushed himself up with his other elbow. You were acutely aware that you were still hovering over him as he leaned into your personal space - keeping enough distance between you so you could back out, but remaining close enough that the invitation was clear.

“Why’re you still up?” he asked and the roughness of his voice made your heart somersault.

“Couldn’t sleep, I’m not used to sleeping anywhere that’s not my quarters.”

“So it had nothing to do with me distracting you.”

“How would you distract -?” He merely grinned in response and you laughed, hiding your face behind your hands as your cheeks warmed even more. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, voice slightly muffled from your palms. He wasn’t wrong, he was distracting - especially now, with his voice like it was, his curls mussed, that tank top, his hand still on your waist and the invitation still hanging between you, unanswered - but while he slept, he was distracting for another reason: he was relaxed. You liked seeing that on him.

“Yeah I am,” he sounded unrepentant. You lifted your head up to find that his grin was slightly lopsided, but there was such a level of warmth and sincerity in his eyes and expression that it made your pulse quicken more than his attempts at flirting had, especially when he continued, “and it got you to laugh. That’s all that matters.”

You stared at him for a moment, like you were seeing him for the first time, and then you were surging forward to slot your lips against his. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he sat upright so he could kiss you back properly, the duvet bunching around his hips at his sudden movement.

When you parted for air, you kept your forehead pressed to his, and said, “You offered to keep me warm…”

He leaned back, raising an eyebrow, “Do you -?”

You grinned mischievously yet bashfully at the same time, “Snuggle?”

Poe’s expression softened and he flopped back onto the bed, holding his arm out for you to curl into. “Always.”

You grinned, scooting closer to him, lying back against his arm which he wrapped around your body, his fingers playing with your shirt sleeve as you threw your own arm around his torso. With his free hand, Poe pulled the blanket back over you both and then leaned down to kiss your temple.

He waited until your breathing leveled out and he was certain you’d successfully fallen asleep before he allowed himself the same, his heart content as he dozed back off.

#michaelperry #ask box #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #myfic #drABBLES I SAID #one day i'll write something less than 1k for this guy

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