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#i've been staring at this for so long i can't tell if it's too cluttered or it works????
carlytayjepsen · 1 year
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it's me, hi :)
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granddaughterogg · 2 months
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Captain John Price comforts you
SUMMARY: You're going through Something (TM) and your commander offers you a hug and some kind words. Wholesome fluff with a tinge of simmering attraction. (Is it mutual? Who knows?)
Captain Price is an extremely perceptive man. He may be quite literally carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but that doesn't mean he can't spot when one of his men (or women) is in a bad way. You were hoping that both your face – unsightly red from all this crying - and your general wet cat aura would have escaped his attention. No such luck.
"A word with you, Private?"
"Yes Sir," you sighed obediently. You have survived a week from hell, and now it felt like you've been called to the principal's office. What could your impressive commander want from you? You didn't particularly feel up to the challenge.
The door of the Captain's office closed behind you with a quiet click, but to your ears, it sounded like the swish of a guillotine.
Price circled around his desk, perpetually cluttered with paperwork. He produced a cigar from his pocket, glanced at it - and then put it back. He seemed to struggle with something, which was strange for such a quick-witted and decisive man.
Finally, he sighed, ran a hand over his face and leaned his shapely bum against the edge of the desk. You waited patiently, keeping a proper distance and staring at your boots.
"Tell me, Private…" 
That honey-smooth voice of his always disarmed you. So rough, so well suited to shouting orders amidst battle, and yet so warm. Like a caress dipped in steel.
Sometimes you imagined him using this voice while talking to his children - two mythical beings whom you've never met. It was meant to stay that way.
"…Are you all right?"
The question blindsided you. You lifted your head abruptly and gave him a wide-eyed stare. You could feel the damn tears already welling up.
You hadn't expected this. You were ready for remarks about the quality of your work, which has diminished lately. For a succinct rebuke even - Price didn't like to prolong such things. 
You didn't expect concern.
He obviously noticed that something odd was going on with your face. It would be hard not to.
"Oh dear." Price stated, cutting you a worried look with those tired blue eyes. "That bad, huh?"
"Sir." You swallowed, desperately trying to cook up some excuse that would be halfway plausible (Something got stuck in my eye.) 
"I'm…"
"I prefer not to pry into things that are none of my business, y'know," the Captain admitted, sticking both hands inside the pockets of his regulation breeches. 
"But it just so happens that you're a part of my squad and therefore you're my business. Your well-being is my business, Private. For the past few days, I've seen you slouching around, bumping blindly into things. You've stopped reacting to Sergeant MacTavish's unsavoury attempts at humour. Yesterday at the shooting range you tried to stick the wrong end of the mag into your rifle. If you go out in the field like this, you'll get hurt."
So he did notice that, too? Damn that old man. Your face was burning.
"So understand well what I'm going to say now, Private…" Price took the damn cigar out of his pocket again and twirled it in his fingers. "I realise that a young woman such as yourself might not want to confide in someone like me. You don't have to confess all your sins, but for God's sake, if you're struggling...with anything, really…then say so."
"Sir." The lump that has been long stuck in your throat finally thawed. Compromising moisture trickled from your eyes.
It was impossible to lie under that inquiring, steely blue gaze. The man oozed with embarrassment. He didn't want to do it any more than you did, but he felt that he should.
Captain Price was such a decent man. It's a shame that decent men are always married.
You decided to repay him with honesty.
"Indeed I have not been at my best lately, Sir," you said in a trembling voice. "Last week's been…difficult, for personal reasons."
"A crisis, eh?" Price sighed and began rummaging through his pockets again.
Your head darted up. "A clusterfuck of crises, if I may say so, Sir."
His chuckle was a raspy little thing. Pleasant. Frankly speaking, every noise that Captain Price ever emitted was pleasant to your ears.
"Eh, haven't we all been there? Here. You could use this."
He extended one of his long arms, firm yet slender, placing an immaculately clean handkerchief in your hand. Like nothing else in Price's possession, it was snow-white and smelled of fresh laundry.
You accepted it and wiped your face in silence.
"I'll give it back as soon as I wash it," you assured him. "And thanks."
"Never mind." He gave you one of those smiles which lit up his whole face, turning those blue peepers velvety and narrow. John Price must have laughed often because he had charming, deep wrinkles around his eyes. 
"Say, Private, would you be interested in a hug?"
You gasped at the idea. On the other hand...
"Yes, please," you declared, smiling at him through the tears. "As long as you don't mind having a wet spot in the front of your uniform."
"My vanity won't stand for it." He spreaded his arms, still grinning. 
"Come 'ere, girl."
You did.
It was a strangely solemn moment. He hugged you slowly, clearly trying his damnedest to avoid any impropriety that might arise. Price smelled like gunpowder, like those cigars of his and some musky cologne – all of the above mixed with the faint undertone of sweat. It was an intoxicating mix. You knew better than to imbibe on it, but it was hard to avoid it while the strong arms of your superior enclosed you in a warm, prolonged embrace. You chased the anxious thoughts away and just enjoyed the here and the now.
"Better now, huh?" He muttered from somewhere way above your head. Price was so much taller than you.
"Yes, Sir..." You whispered into his crumpled green shirt, faded from the desert sun.
"You know, it always feels like the fuckin' end of the world when those things happen...breakups, I mean. But it never is."
He chuckled ruefully. 
"As my ex-wife said when she was fed up with me: It's easy to find a replacement!"
You returned to your quarters fully soothed, warmed up - and stunned by the discovery.
Ex-wife?!
EX-WIFE???
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bomberqueen17 · 11 months
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a true odyssey
ok well so. it's time to tell a long semi-pointless meandery story so buckle up. <3
mostly my job at the farm is to assist in the making of sausage, which happens two or three weeks every month, and when it happens it takes the whole week, y'dig, what with setup and cleanup and all that shit. but this is not a sausage week. this is the week between sausage and the next. and as it happens next week is the first chicken processing of the season, so like, a big deal. I've spent weeks slowly cleaning up the winter's mess in the slaughterhouse-- which is several rooms at the end of the barn, each of them cluttered with different types of detritus. I've spent hours washing things, putting things away, finding homes for things, tidying things, cleaning things, and my BIL has spent hours fixing broken things and helping me move heavy things that really need to not be where they are. It's looking pretty good in there.
But this week, now that the heavy lifting is mostly done, and most of the heavy cleaning is done, I've been mostly subsumed into bizarre odd jobs. Yesterday I learned how to use a woodchipper. I also did some light fence work, a stark contrast to the kind of fencing I learned in college. (Sabre and epee, then; now it's wire mesh and staples.)
And eggs; endless egg management. Mostly washing, and packing, and putting away, but some stock rotation too now and then.
This morning I was called away from my egg washing and prevailed upon to take a journey of about 40 minutes' drive each way, on a quest to obtain a new throttle cable for the New Holland tractor that VegMan needed for a task that had to be done as soon as possible and could not wait.
So the nearest New Holland dealership that stocks the part we needed is in Greenwich, NY. I haven't been there super often but it is exactly two towns over from where I grew up, so it's not exactly terra incognita. BIL gave me rough directions, and I immediately knew just what he meant. I put the address in my phone anyway, because I wouldn't know precisely where it was, but the bulk of the drive, I absolutely knew where everything was. So I left the directions in my phone and hit the road, and after about half an hour I'd passed through Schaghticoke and was headed north on 40 and was like "ok time to get Maps loaded" and tabbed over to the app and said take it away, my friend!
and it was like "make a right out of the farm driveway onto the main road" and like buddy i did that half an hour ago, please show me the current driving direction??? it would not do that. well, i don't need it to give me the turn by turn just show me where to go i guess, I thought, and then I looked and it was telling me to turn off Rte 40 and make a right, head east on the very next road.
The very next road was an unpaved road I happen to know meanders for a long distance before it ever connects with anything else. Doubt.jpg, I did not take the turn. I might mention, I grew up here, and I know fine fucking well where Greenwich is, and I had the utmost confidence that haring off into some unpaved Easton hinterland was not going to get me to the tractor dealership any faster than simply continuing on this very nice state highway. But it kept updating itself to show me turning right. Which I knew I did not need to do.
So I finally pulled over and tucked myself up in the DO NOT BLOCK DOORS DO NOT PARK HERE parking lot of the Easton volunteer fire department, and tried to restart Maps, which wasn't having any of it. I eventually had to hard-restart my whole phone.
And then it wouldn't come back up. It was just on the little loading thingy for ages, probably a minute and a half, but it was a long minute and a half, as those tend to be; with no other distractions, I stared bleakly at my seemingly-dead phone and had some contemplative thoughts.
I'm from here, is the thing. Like, if my phone won't come back up, I've come too far to turn back in defeat. I can't go home without the throttle cable. I can only go on. But I don't know how to get there. I don't think there's anywhere I can easily run in and ask someone for directions. (If there was a Stewarts I absolutely would but I knew there wasn't.)
But like. I cannot be lost this close to my fucking hometown. Route 40 is the street I learned how to shift into fifth gear on. Route 40 is the way I drove to school. I cannot get lost on Route 40.
Finally my phone came back on and I was like ok thank fucking god where the hell is capital tractor and it was like yo dummy you just drive up rte 40 for seven more miles and then make a right why are you being so weird about this
thanks bud. anyway, i clipped it back in its holder and got myself back on the highway
and about 20 feet later i almost hit a bald eagle that was swooping low over the road with something in its talons
so like i don't do augury so idk what that meant but i did make it and i did get that throttle cable and then i did make it back safely to the farm so who even knows
anyway your reward for reading is this photo I took of some lilacs at my mother's house:
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[image description: some blooming lilacs, pale purple]
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nightmarevore · 7 months
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hi! i'm getting into writing safe vore oneshots and i was inspired by a few of your works and reblogs. for years i was really discontent with my writing, but when i revisited some of your stories today, i noticed how similar your writing style is to mine, and the fact that people enjoy your content made me confident enough to complete a draft and plan a new story. i wanted to know if you make drafts and revise them? do you just publish the first draft? do you get help writing or editing them? 1☆
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WAAAAAAAAAAAAH I;M SOBBING THIS WAS SUCH A NICE SERIES OF ASKS TO COME TO YOU'RE SO NICE TO MEEEEEEEE omg gomgo gomgomgomgklgkgfkjngfjbjdk i've never been complimented LIKE THIS or asked extensively for my process, this is new to me!!! you're wonderful and kind and i appreciate you.
i'm gonna have to make a readmore here as to not clutter up everyone's dashes to tell you my process/thoughts so HERE WE GO!!!!
i actually have only one fic i get edited and it's a non-vore fic, a very close friend of mine edits a fn.a f fanfic i'm writing based on w/illi.am a/f.to/n. i don't ask them to edit my vore stuff, but they do know i'm into vore. i actually write all my fics in a google doc!
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i'll typically actually write as i go entirely. i have a rough idea of how i want the fic to go (who's in what, who does what, an event i need to happen, etc) and write along that rough guideline in my head. i write completely in order, or else i can't make it flow well together. sometimes i'll write what else may need to get done or else i may forget.
i'll consider things i decide to change as i go along "the first draft," since i went with something entirely different. for example, in one of my drafts for a wip fic, i chose to have luke, in the serial killer, panic and size-shift to half size and have the fic end with a half-size hurt/comfort vore from luke and rowan. instead, i changed it so luke is dazed but has time remain his current size and pull rowan out of his pred instincts taking over and have cuddles afterwards and vore when they got home, luke still the same size.
though adhd and autism get in the way at times—executive dysfunction is a bitch. a lot of things i have written, like a luke and rowan serial killer fic, as well a a fugue state william fic have been a WIP since February of this year—literally when i BROKE MY FOOT and was stuck in a reclining chair for a month. i keep telling myself i need to get to them, but then i see ffxiv and hanging out with friends and just decide that's a better way to spend my time at the moment. i've been in a huuuuge brain fog for a few months bc of this, the recent one shot i posted was actually made because i was speaking vore feelings i had with medli.
i definitely have an easier time writing when i'm specifically fixated on vore, luke and rowan, william, mike, etc.
i'll write when i'm hyperfixated, and my brain pushes me to write more when i'm at work rather than at home, because adhd classifies work as something i need a distraction from, and home as chill time. i'll write on my breaks or when i have a moment to myself to sit and hide.
i'll tell you right now, i get SOOO many ideas and have at least 10+ wips, including f./n/a,f, luke and rowan, and ffxiv characters.
when i write, i'm mostly writing from my heart. exactly what i'd expect to think, feel, and hear. i put myself into the perspective/mind of the characters i'm writing and can get deep into these fics as i write them. i get so interpersonally connected to my writing as i'm writing that i physically feel my character's emotions, and see them in my head exactly how they play out.
honestly, i'm not too sure about tips on how to get out of making yourself write when you don't feel like it. i've gotten frustrated with myself for staring at my documents for too long and not being able to write anything. i imagine the scenario in perfect detail, and then i'll sit down, stare at my work, and i'm like ....???????????????????
i'm actually trying to open up to my therapist about getting medicated so i can have an easier time writing/creating for you guys! hopefully soon.
i hope this kind of gives you some insight to my process, please go forth and create and never be afraid to share. <333
this ask means a lot to me!
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felidaemelody · 2 months
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Unassuming Siren of Ink
I reach past my clutter on the top shelf of my closet and grab a book that for a while I've been meaning to start. I'm trying my best to live this life to the fullest despite my emotions being pumped with only half a heart.
Mildly amused, I flip the pages through the hazy apathy of which I've become so used to; unfazed by my days blending into stew.
One unassuming panel was a spike-laced tunnel, an embrace uncommon to humans tore apart my plans.
Staring, agonizing, pulled in by longing. Missed opportunity to be true to me.
Affection withheld without any intention, a childhood endured given the wrong attention.
I see what I've been missing, not just my body that is missing nor my home that is missing. This panel, unintentionally, caused my pain to sing.
A breath that has quickened informs me of an infliction that I've been stricken. I know where this will end but it's already too late.
A siren of ink hidden in a sanctuary, the panel wraps rope around my eyes, pulls me closer, I need to stop! I don't want to stop. MAKE IT STOP!
The siren pierces the armor that is my rib cage and pulls out my heart, exposing the truth I keep hidden under primate flesh. Exposed to air, the pain leaks out for all too see, were I not alone, fortunately.
As if rolling into a brimstone ravine, my breath quickens against my will. I hope for something to gleam as my lungs become anything but still, but there's no point. Pain like the point of a knife this is needless strife, when will I be alright? Haven't I already suffered enough in this life? Rolling faster, burning, engulfing, forcibly unveiling the endless night I spend my days trying to ignore. Tell me definitively what this pain is for!?Faster now, deeper now, my lungs like caverns to accommodate the pain that healthy breaths can't sate. Stop, STOP! I try to grab onto something to regain my senses but the siren pulls harder on the rope, the world shatters the last of my hope… but only for a moment. This will pass but that's the last thing I'm thinking about during this torment! The siren's symphony is unwanted company. With a rising tempo, my lungs are reaching a crescendo!
Matching my lungs, the symphony's tempo is rising; heartbeat, rising; Anxiety rising! I can't do this! Not again! It feels like the end! This fleeting moment is agonizing! Please, make it stop! I shouldn't even be feeling this way! This isn't how I wanted my day, or any moment I endure of this life, to go. Ripped apart by the dismay, If only I could have stayed, not here but there, where I belong; My home that's long gone! My fur stripped off my flesh with nary a knife, instead I, me, the true self, not this… never this! Never this human body of the wrong sex!.. I…
I was born into a body that could never be true to myself…
Even worse still, as my breath starts to still, with the book, having been shut firmly and quickly, sitting still on the floor next to me as I lay still… I never got to experience the affection of a loving parent rubbing their face into me like a felidae would.
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hopeintheashes · 2 years
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soft and slow, watch the minutes go (count out loud)
Part 2: 5x13-5x14 and beyond (@badthingshappenbingo square: Secret Caretaking)
1.1k, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Buck & Eddie & Chris
Read it here or on AO3, or start with Part 1 (or: tumblr).
my other bthb fills: tumblr // ao3
He realizes, at some point, that things are happening without him being aware of them.
Like— okay, Buck coming over to stay with Chris every week while he's at therapy, he's perfectly aware of that.
But he realizes at 3 a.m. on a Tuesday night that he hasn't done laundry in three weeks and yet neither he nor Chris have run out of clean clothes.
Even with ridiculous L.A. traffic, the time between when Buck picks Chris up from school and the time Eddie gets home from therapy isn't enough time to get a week's worth of loads of laundry through the washer and dryer and all put away.
"What time did you get here?" he asks Buck suspiciously the next time he gets home from talking to Frank, and Buck just shrugs lightly and says "earlier" like that's answer enough.
And— now that he's thinking about it— his fridge is stocked. Not with everything, it's not like Eddie doesn't have to grocery shop at all, but even in the weeks where he can barely get himself out of bed for work and therapy and getting Chris to school, they've never run out of the basics. There's always milk and bread and eggs and peanut butter and bananas and cereal. The healthy kind and Chris's favorite.
"Have you and Buck been shopping?" he asks Chris at breakfast one morning, staring at the nearly-full box of cereal that Chris is pouring from.
Chris rolls his eyes, every bit the preteen he's somehow suddenly become. "There's an app, Dad. They drop it off on the porch. Who even goes shopping anymore?"
Well. “Me” would be the answer to that, but he doesn't say it out loud.
There are things appearing on the calendar on the fridge, too. Planetarium Trip, and Science Project Due, and Field Days - Water Slide - Bring Swimsuit/Change of Clothes. He sees them, and then his brain decides it hates him again— still— and he panics when the next time the words register it's as they're trying to get out the door the morning-of for school. And every time Chris says, "It's fine, Buck took care of it," and points to the finished project or the extra clothes in his bag.
"I didn't sign a permission slip for the planetarium trip, did I?" He might have. He has no idea at this point. He has this vague memory of Chris asking if he could go and Eddie saying of course, but nothing past that.
"No. Buck said as long as I asked you it was okay for him to sign. Because he's an emergency contact." That's… not actually how that works, but— Chris giggles. "He made sure to scribble so the B looked like a D."
And things are… clean. The bathroom, and the entryway, and the kitchen sink, all the places that gather clutter and grime if you don't stay on top of it, they're just… not doing that. They're not sparkling or anything, but—
"Buck," he says, a little bit pained, when he realizes that the dishes he'd left in the sink last night are done. "You can't— you don't need to—" He gestures vaguely at the sink.
"Hmm?" A picture of innocence.
"Buck."
"Eddie." And that's the thing about Buck. He can be so disarmingly sincere. "I've got it. Okay?"
He huffs a sigh and buries his face in his hands, and there's this ghost-touch of Buck's hand brushing over his hair, and then the solid feeling of it landing on Eddie's shoulder. "Yeah," Eddie says into his palms. "Okay."
Buck squeezes his shoulder reassuringly and it does kind of feel like it might actually somehow be okay.
He's at the table again with his head in his hands two days later.
"What?"
He shakes his head, but Buck just pushes Eddie's foot with his own under the table.
"C'mon. Lay it on me. What?"
He heaves a sigh and tries to turn off the part of his brain that's permanently stuck on his parents telling him he'd never be able to take care of Chris on his own. "Chris is outgrowing his shoes. And he needs a haircut. And I feel like he's supposed to go to the dentist? But I can't remember if we made an appointment when we were there last time or if we said we'd wait. And he keeps talking about Kahya’s birthday party, but I don't know when that is, or where that is, or if he even got an official invitation or what." He pushes the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. "And then if he's going, he needs a present, and I just…" Can't. Tears burn in his eyes. Can't keep it together. Can't do any of this.
"Okay." Very official-sounding. Eddie looks up.
"Are you… taking notes in crayon?"
"Sure, why not?" He grins. "I could color-code it if you'd like."
"Buck."
"I got it," he says, and it's gentler, and Eddie blinks back the tears that are threatening again. Still.
"I can't—" ask you to do this is maybe-probably the rest of that sentence, but Buck cuts him off.
"Eddie. You don't have to do this alone."
"I mean, I haven't been doing this alone." He means it in the sense of so I couldn't if I tried, but Buck just brightens.
"Exactly! So, which dentist should I be calling?"
A week later Chris has new shoes, and shorter hair, and a confirmed appointment at the dentist, and a present wrapped and waiting for Kahya’s birthday the following day.
He's— overwhelmed. It's too much, he'd said to Frank, who had just looked at him evenly and said, It sounds like it's exactly what you need.
He doesn't know how to even begin thanking Buck for it. All of it. Going back… well. Years, at this point, looking at it all.
Buck makes a questioning noise, because Eddie has, as far as he can tell, just been staring off into space. He comes back to himself, and walks over, and wraps his arms around Buck. "Thank you."
Buck squeezes him back, bear hugs his specialty as always. "I told you. I'm here. For all of it. I've got you. And Chris"
A breath, soaking it in. The safety and the certainty in the midst of everything that's fallen apart, and everything that's being pulled apart during his time with Frank, and everything that's being unearthed because of it. "Thank you," he says again, because he can't figure out how to encompass the rest of it other than to just hold on tighter.
“Any time.” Buck returns the pressure, then pulls back and smiles at him, and picks up a colored pencil. "Okay. What's next?"
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redd956 · 2 years
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CAN WE PLEASE GET A CONTINUATION OF PROMPT 10 I AM IN LIVE WITH THE CONCEPT OF A VILLIAN WHO NO MATTER WHAT JUST ALWAYS SMILES ILY <3<3<3
Awww I'm glad that you loved it! I basically merged two of my OCs together to create the idea for that Villain. Plus I just love characters with sunglasses.
Sure I'll continue it. I hope this suffices.
Continuation of Prompt 10 (2)
Hero boredly glares at the ticking digital clock. It's bright red numbers flicker to the next. Why is this taking so long? Villain hasn't even been within their base for a day. They aren't even properly conscious, and yet Hero can't get the hundreds of disastrous scenarios out of their head.
Character C/Leader claimed that they needed to keep Villain alive. "Precious intel" they said while lecturing Hero over their precise attacking skills. Hero finds Villain anything but precious. In an hour or so the vile thing could awake, slip out of their medical wing, and wreck havoc on their base.
Villain is locked in a prepared room in the medical wing, with Hero brooding outside of it. Not long passes before an annoyed looking Medic comes sauntering out of it. They slam the door behind them, pushing up their glasses, rolling their eyes over some matter. Hero has a bajillion guesses over what it could be.
Medic gives them a silent nod, motioning their head to the door. Villain steps inside the cold, and fairly small room. Disappointment immediately takes over their face at the sight before them.
Villain sits like a child on the edge of the bed. They kick their feet playfully back and forth. One hand fidgets with the hospital gown Hero did not need to see them in. The other hand pushes up their sunglasses that they somehow managed to coerce into getting back.
Medical equipment turns the small room in an cluttered mess. Normally Medic is much more organized, but who can pay attention with Villain talking their ear off. Despite their surroundings, Villain shares Hero a bright smile. Their fidgeting hand attempts to raise up. A clinking is made as it pulls against a pair of handcuffs. The second half of the cuffs remains latched to the bed.
"Why look so sad to see me alive? I'm starting to think you hate me." , Villain spouts.
"I do. Now who do you wor-"
"Y'know, you need to tell your Medic to lighten up some. They're super grouchy. I mean I would be too without coffee. I drank all of theirs while they weren't looking."
"I am not playing these games with you."
Hero angrily sits down in a spinning desk chair. They can feel a headache brewing, and stare piercing through their skin. Their palm starts to rub their forehead in anticipation.
Villain marvels, "I don't think I've ever seen you sit down."
"You have been on my nerves all day"
"You've been thinking of me? I didn't know you felt such a way Hero" Villain teased.
Their smirk spread into a grin, as Hero slowly turned in their chair, as to not face them. The exhausted sigh that Hero lets loose made them feel even better. Their free hand carefully reaches over their disorganized surroundings, picking a stray paperclip off of a metallic table.
"Who do you work for?", Hero demands, turning back around.
"I already said. I don't work for anyone."
Hero expects this excuse to pop up. They rummage through their back pocket, taking out their cellphone. After a few minutes of scrolling and swiping, they rotate their phone around, shoving it towards Villain.
The picture clear as day displays Villain hanging out with another Villain. It isn't a picture of scheming chaos lords. Instead its in the style of a selfie. Two people posing for the camera, still decked in their normal drab. The uncanny valley of both wearing sunglasses illuminates the satisfied smiles below. The unidentified one hoists Character C/Leader's prized weapon in the air. In the meantime Villain shows off a stolen jacket from another hero.
Villain seethes on the inside, but they push their anger into an eerily forced smile. Their brain first proposes smacking the phone out of Hero's hand. After that intrusive thought passes, the plan to just break the cuffs and remind Hero who's the better fighter occurs. Maybe then they can delete that photo. They'd never have to see that terrible reminder of the threat at hand again.
Hero points at the small emblem on Villain's shirt in the photo.
Hero mentions, "You both wear this sigil. What does it mean?"
"You're not gonna be happy to hear this, but I have had more friends than just you. In fact you're not even the only hero I bother."
Before Hero can argue, or begin shouting like they always do, Medic returns. They force a sheet of paper into Hero's hands. Hero exchanges Medic a confused expression, but Medic just hastily points at the page, and starts prepping an assortment of equipment in the background.
The results of several medical tests are printed out across the paper. Highlighted by neon pink marker is the findings of an unknown substance. Medic neatly wrote out the long list of assumed effects underneath it. Hero skims through them catching insomnia; fake sense of high energy, and eye sensitivity.
Medic adds, "I’ve talked to Character C/Leader about this. There is still some in their system, but I think I have something that can cancel it out. I'm sure it will be easier to get answers from someone who is running off of proper sleep."
Villain tenses, their eyes locking onto the syringe Medic finishes preparing. I can't. They keep their nervous smile going, hurrying up with their paperclip work. I can't sleep. Not now. I'll be out for days. Hero gets up. They are ready to help Medic at the instant. I've already slept enough today...
Hero places their still open phone on a nearby dinky metallic table. They stretch their muscles, debating over whether or not Villain will be the type to struggle. When they glance over to their constant nuisance, their met with a reassuring smile. At least what seems to be one. He stares at the two quietly mumbling to each other.
Medic breaks off from their hushed conversation. Medic attempts to explain to Villain, “I don’t know what you’re on, but we’re taking you off of it. Don’t worry. You need to the sleep in the first place.”
Villain allows the smirk to droop into a neutral pout. Supervillain wants me back tonight. Medic raises the syringe in the air, turning to analyze them. I’m already on strike two...
Hero and Medic make the slightest moves, before villain kicks the rolling chair in their direction. Free from the cuffs, they spring onto their feet, crawling over another table to get to the singular exit.
A sharp ignites from their side. One of Villain’s hands instinctively latches onto the area, barely feeling the patch of bandages underneath the thin gown. Yet they continue to climb over the metallic tables, the other hand taking the time to shove the them in Hero and Medic’s direction.
As soon as Villain lands on their feet again they charge at the door despite Hero’s disgruntled advised denial of the action. The pain in Villain’s side throbs. They refuse to acknowledge it, and admit that it isn’t diminishing back down. Villain swings the door open, and stumbles into the halls of the base.
They spin on their heels in time to see Hero reach the doorway. Hero gets a flash of a vibrantly white smile, before the heavy medical door slams in their face. Hero rapidly goes for the door handle. Alas they hears even more frantic clicking on the other end. With a loud tick the door locks.
Villain retains his smile as loud banging begins behind them. Faintly Hero’s enraged voice booms behind the locked door. It is at this moment Villain realizes they don’t know how to navigate the base. In fact they have no clue where the building that they are in is. However that doesn’t deter Villains from running around aimlessly.
A few members of Hero’s team instantly scatter or hide at the sight of Villain, hospital gown or not. They dash throughout various uniform samesy looking halls. Everything is too clean, too uniform, too bright. Villain sure is glad to be wearing their sunglasses.
Finally an even brighter array of hope meets Villain at the end of sharp turn. The front doors to the outside. Without hesitation they dart for it. Their eyebrows raise, and the smile almost falters as a figure slides in front of them, far more angrier than Hero ever is. Character C/Leader stands firmly. However they stand unarmed.
Villain laughs in their head. What could they do? That thought vanishes as quickly as it appears, when Character C/Leader starts running towards. Why are they running at me? Hero’s friends are supposed to be going the opposite direction. Y’know away from me. Villain starts to back up when they finally understand that Character C/Leader is going through with this. Villain loses the chance to notice how much faster Character C/Leader is sprinting.
Character C/Leader lunges onto Villain, shoving them onto their back. The air is knocked out of them as their back slams against the sleek tile flooring. A yelp almost escapes Villain, as Character C/Leader’s knee digs into their bandaged side immediately. They manage to purse their lips together, concealing the sound, but failing to hide their quickened breathing.
Villain hands push against Character C/Leader, at least trying to adjust the grown person off of their wound. Their eyes fixate against Character C/Leader’s face. Their expression is locked into a tight serious cold emotion. An emotion Villain has seen elsewhere. A feeling Villain will never exhibit.
Character C/Leader glances up aggressively, only relaxing slightly at the company of Hero and Medic. They demand too calmly, “Put them to sleep now”.
The picture from Hero’s phone strikes Villain once again. They begin to flail underneath Character C/Leader, catching glimpses of Hero and Medic jogging over. No. I can’t. Villain slips out from Character C/Leader’s restraint, but barely crawls a foot before doubling over on the spot.
The throbbing suddenly becomes so much more. The awkward feeling of warm liquid slowly spreads across Villain’s side, building up behind the bandages. Villain squirms, another attempt to move forward no matter what. Each movement pulses through Villain from the wound. Character C/Leader’s shadow looms over them, listening to Villain seethe between gritted teeth.
Villain hisses, “I can’t.”
Even with the sunglasses on Villain can see the world dimming quickly. A harsh hand grasps onto to the loose collar of the gown. It hurts too much to turn to see who it is. A differently feeling hand sides next to the other, gently brushing its knuckles across the little hairs of Villain’s neck.
Villain gasps both in shock and pain when a tiny sting forms where the second hand hovered. The hands let go of him, allowing him to pitifully slump to the ground. Their cheek meets the cool flooring. The two people posing in the picture take over their mind. They see themselves. They see the other person. They see that their jig is up. It is going to be strike three. They’re going to end up just like villain 2. Supervillain will be sure of it.
Villain can’t repress the tears the well under the shade of the sunglasses. All three of those standing over them, watch the droplets of water stream out from behind them. Villain sniffles, before uttering, “I do-don't...want...want to die...or...w-worse......"
Dear anon I am so sorry for taking a literal millennia from finishing this, I really hope this suffices. I couldn’t decide where I wanted to go with this... :( Sorry for the extra amount of characters, I’m used to writing about groups.
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spooky-draws-stuff · 2 years
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Several papers were scattered across the office floor. Schneep had fallen asleep while holding an empty coffee mug in his hand. A loud knock on the door startled the doctor as he woke up in alarm. He stood up, pressed his glasses closer to his face and knocked more papers off the desk.
Without hesitation, Chase opened the door. "Schneep, are you okay? You've been in there for weeks now." Chase spoke calmly, but his eyes widened with surprise to find that the office space was a cluttered mess. He picked up one of the papers and tried to read it, but he couldn't. It looked like some sort of complicated math. Chase felt schneep push him and he stumbled backwards falling onto the floor.
"They're my papers and this is my research and it doesn't matter who believes me!" Schneep exclaimed. "I found the answer Chase." Schneep apologized and helped Chase stand back up.
Schneep grinned. "I found it. After so long....It all makes sense now...." Schneep gazed at Chase blankly before his eyes flickered green and then switched back to blue. Chase glanced behind him, in confusion. He turned around and ran to the door, but Schneep blocked the exit.
"Don't tell them....No one is going to know...." Schneep smiled and started to laugh in amusement. "I don't know how much time I have, or how long I've been here but I need you to do something important. Tell me about myself. Tell me who I am Chase...." Schneep stared at Chase, smiling. He gripped a syringe in his hand.
Chase noticed a faint glow around Schneep's neck, but then it disappeared. He backed away from Schneep. "You're selfless. You work too much..." Chase laughed nervously when he noticed the syringe.  "Um....Why isn't this working...." Chase whispered to himself.
Red strings fully formed around Schneep's neck. "I can't believe you would fall for this! I've been waiting another patient for so long.....Please, ignore what I said earlier about the cure for corruption. Why fight the strings anymore?" Schneep walked towards Chase.
"No! Remember when you bandaged Jackie's arm? Remember the time I got hurt but you helped me?" Chase spoke quickly.
Schneep paused. "Chase...Please help me....I don't know what I'm doing. I'm scared Chase...." Schneep looked at Chase with sad eyes. Chase wiped more tears from his eyes in heaving sobs. He hugged Schneep, but he felt a needle pressing into his arm. "no...." was all he could think.
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rayofsunas · 3 years
Text
s/o who dies.
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A/n: listennnn, I wasn't going to write something dark, but then I unregretfully decided to listen to edgy/dark audios and I was suddenly in the mood to write this so yeah lmao. also, guess what? I'm planning on making a discord server right after posting this! so, be on the lookout for that when I get it all sorted out. also, note for Scaramouche's that the reader inserts tend to lean more femininely versed (I hope that's okay), the only reasons why I do that is because one I simp and I'm female AND two since I am doing a mini-series for Scara, I've kind of based his imagines/fics around that universe (baby daddy universe). I haven't started his yet, but consider these part of that series' universe. anyways as always thank you for requesting anon and enjoy! <333
Summary: you die + how the boys cope afterward.
Parings: Albedo/Gn! Reader, Xiao/Gn! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader
Warnings: swearing, angst, death, poison, illness/cancer, murder, arson, obsessive behavior
Word count: 2.1k
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Albedo
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"You need to keep this on your head." Your lover said for the one-hundredth time, placing the cold cloth on your forehead once again after taking it off only seconds earlier.
"This is pointless," You said, no longer wanting to ignore nor hide behind the invisible thick curtains of the obvious death sentence approaching. "My body rejected the medicine the first twice doses, what's a third time going to do?" You asked, knowing Albedo wouldn't answer; your hope was to knock some sense into his thick skull. but he was too worried trying to ignore the obvious as you had previously been doing, not anymore though.
This was saddening to watch, both Albedo's unfolding and the girl who accidentally poisoned you, whimpering into Sucrose's shoulder. She was only a young girl, barely seventeen when she was chosen to work under Sucrose and your boyfriend. She was very good at Alchemy and luckily had a desire to practice the craft. But unfortunately, she hadn't paid much attention when it came to Surcrose's educational poison lesson and had unknowingly mixed up poisonous liquids and materials.
After tipping over some clutter in Albedo's office and knocking over a test tube laying unsealed on the counter, you had realized the contents spilled on your skin, bleaching into your pores. You had been tasked with bringing the famed alchemist and his assistant some vials and materials for the collection of a rare butterfly they had found. It was both telling and obvious that something was wrong when you never showed up with the required materials requested and it was already too late hours later when the chief Alchemist, his assistant, and Alchemist in training came bounding down the stairs of Albedo's home laboratory.
It didn't take long for the trio to realize something was wrong. Sucrose had found the vile on the floor, most of its contents spilled and in a little puddle, plus your state on a nearby lounge chair was obvious; slumped awkwardly, forehead visibly sweating, eyes closed, breathing raspily.
You accepted the first doses of the supposed nullifying medicine without hesitation, just wanting the numbing feeling to go away. But when it never kicked in you decided it would be best to save the medicine, because it wasn't working. Your time was coming.
"Since the medicine is taking immediate effect, you should try to get the contents out of your system," He said, reaching out for you. Badly you wanted to argue that the medicine wasn't working at all, but he wasn't listening and already has his lean arms wrapped around your middle, helping gently lift and guide you over to the sink.
You hear materials being shoved to the side and soon enough you had your head dangling over the sink, shaking hands gripping the metalled edge tightly. Soon enough, Albedo's hand was on your back rubbing up and down, hoping to comfort you, it wasn't working though. You could only think about your death, what the other side would look like. Could there even be heaven or hell, maybe a place in between, maybe nowhere...?
As soon as you felt the urge to vomit, you did, and despite it being utterly disgusting Albedo seemed to welcome it happily. He took this as something good, but it only worried you when you saw the reddish hues in the bile.
"I think they should leave." You muttered acknowledging Sucrose and Elizabeth, the taste of gooey, metal only becoming more apparent. The blonde agreed, nodding and muttering "Okay."
As Sucrose lead Elizabeth towards the stairs, the pair heard you say. "Goodbye Sucrose, Elizabeth." Which only seemed to make the young girl wail louder.
You sighed sadly once the silence was back. Just your thoughts of death, and Albedo's slowly crushing heart.
"You should probably leave soon as well. I don't want you to be here when I go." Albedo frowned at your statement, head shaking.
"Don't say things like that."
Of course, he'd say that. Why did he feel the need to ignore this when it would only come back to hurt him even more later on when you were gone?
"You're the smartest man I know and we both know where this is heading," You said, head feeling much heavier than before. It was getting closer to your time. "I'm going to die, and you can't do anything about it."
"I'm not leaving your side. We promised to stick together through everything, you can't ask me to leave."
"I guess... But promise me this."
"When I go, stop blaming Elizabeth. It was an accident..." You said sincerely. Albedo wanted to make a fuss about it, tell you he'd never been able to forgive her. But for you, he would try. If it was your list desire, your last wish, he'd make it come true. Though it would be difficult. Accidental or not, she was the reason you were leaving him here, alone.
"Okay, I'll try..." He said honestly.
"Thank you," You said, letting out a shaking breath you had been holding for a very long time. Now you felt much more peaceful. "And since I know you stubbornly won't leave," You started, finally turning away from the sink to look into his cerulean eyes. "At least hold my hand."
"Of course, love."
even a year after your death, no matter how hard he tried, there was still this nagging feeling every time he looked at Elizabeth
he wanted too badly forgive her, but he couldn't
she had, although accidental, taken the one person that meant so much to him and he'd never forgive
Albedo is gonna be distant towards everyone he knows and it's completely purposeful
he doesn't like the pitiful gazes that people send his way and he hates that all the captains stared at him at your funeral
obviously, some questioned if he was able to stay in the field
he hadn't taken any time off, even when Jean advised he was welcome and that it would be best
tbh, albedo's going to have a hard time for a while
Xiao
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Why did it have to be you? Why not him? He'd feel much better knowing you could live another day, after all, he'd been living a very long time.
But no, the fallen Archons, Gods, Yaksha had chosen you to join them. He wished that weren't the case
Humans and their pathetic vessels... So weak, he thought. Allowing something like cancer to beat them.
No matter how harsh it sounded, he didn't despise you, no. It wasn't your fault. You didn't ask for this. He just knew that if you were a godly being this wouldn't have happened like this or at least not so soon; Xiao had known Gods that had terminal illnesses to live years. Why couldn't you be like them?
He hated watching you lie there in that bed, immobile, sickly, and tired, and all you could say was that everything was going to be alright, that he'd be alright.
But it wasn't. He wouldn't be okay without you. He would struggle daily, fall deeper into a hole. You were the light of his life, the only light in his life. And you were gone, just like that. Turning external scars into internal ones tattered all over his dying heart.
Xiao for the longest time has been by himself, so the people of Liyue know it'll be harder for him to overcome this, no matter what he says or does to prove otherwise
Zhongli in particular knows how hard this will be for his friend
his first and probably last love, dead, gone in the blink of an eye
he'll continue fighting all the monsters he crosses, becoming even more violent when he does so, trying his best to get rid of this stupid sickly feeling of heartbreak
but it won't go away, no matter what he does, no matter how absurd
he just wants the feeling to go away, he despises that feeling so much
if you have a secret place somewhere, like in the mountains, Zhongli often finds him there, wallowing in invisible self-pity
"You know they wouldn't want you to be like this." Zhongli would say, only trying to help
but it doesn't
it only enrages Xiao, even more, fuels him to push everyone out of his life again instead of letting them in like he'd done in your presence
Scaramouche
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How dare you. How dare you leave him like this. Alone, nonetheless with a toddler to raise who kept crying for her mommy. He couldn't do this without you, he didn't know how to raise a child, speak to her with the gentle care that you did. That was your expertise but now he'd be doing it solo.
And never again would he entrust someone who he cares about, into ignorant, incompetent arms. Never again will he ever allow any member of the Fatui to watch after his daughter; no matter their rank or position. They had one job while he was away doing business in Liyue. Guard your home twenty-four seven, accompany you into Inazuma's port town should you need anything, watch after his daughter while she plays happily in the luscious Inazuma fields. And they couldn't do that. All he gave them was one simple task, watch and keep you and your daughter safe. Instead, they slacked off, probably drunk in some bar while you were being brutally attacked by murderous mercenaries, left to fend for you and your daughter, only to die protecting her and leave your home to be severely burned.
He knew those idiotic Fatui soldiers were incompetent the moment he stepped foot into the harbor and found that everyone seemed to quiet down. Especially the eerily silent soldiers flanked on each side to welcome him home; he was the highest-ranking soldier in the land of Inazuma after all. Not a single one bothered to step forward and tell him what was wrong, what they all criminally allowed happen. Scaramouche only realized what had happened when he was mere minutes away from arriving home, his daughter had come running from his widowed mother's arms, the sight of smoke rising in the air, from the direction of his home. You were nowhere to be seen.
It all happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. His daughter was clinging to his shirt and his mother only stared with tears of pity.
It didn't take long for the puzzle pieces to be put together and before he knew it, Scaramouche was standing in front of his home, part of it burnt to a crisp and black.
He didn't need to ask what happened, he didn't need to know where you were, because he already knew. What he didn't know was who exactly had done this. But he was going to find out, now.
Incompetent, selfish, bastards. They would all pay for this. The lazy piggish Fatui soldiers who he should've never trusted with such a simple task and the thieves who had murdered you. They all had it rightfully coming.
Scaramouche hates the world after he lost you
he hates it so much and can't understand how this had happened
he's not a good person, so he blames it on karma and those stupid idiots who couldn't protect you
ngl, he's not gonna be around much after your death... his mother would argue that he should be here to raise your daughter, because she's also in pain and doesn't understand that this isn't some game of hide and seek this time
instead, he's focused and driven by revenge
he doesn't listen to a word anybody says, he's much more dangerous than before, and he only trusts his judgment
anyone trying to get him to stop his mission, is someone who doesn't want to see him happy he thinks (though that's not true at all. they hate that he is obsessive over this) but he will personally put a stop to that
and he'll only return home to his daughter and mother when he finds who did this and they along with their bloodline is exterminated
while he's gone, the remainder of his family is relocated somewhere he knows they'll be safe, for example, even though he despises childe, he knows his mom and daughter will be safe with his family
sorry, but Scaramouche will hold this deep-rooted hatred and love for you after you die
yes, he still loves and misses you dearly, but he hates you for leaving him alone, hates that although it wasn't intentional and out of your control, that you were gone
no matter how hard you tried to fight, it was selfish of you to leave him like this
he's not going to stop until he believes whoever was behind this is dead
and in his case, he'll stop believing when he chooses, even if they are innocent/guilty, he'll keep going
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3.19.21, rayofsunas
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sirenascales · 3 years
Text
-> double black [part one] 18+
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-> Chuuya x 1stPov!F!Reader x Dazai
-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?
-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing
A night out drinking leads to a small misunderstanding with a handsome, yet dangerous man. [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader]
3,894 words
note: edited this so it could still be read as a reader fic! it's actually a lot of fun writing in first person! hope those who read this enjoy my first bsd fic!
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || masterlist
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I've experienced a lot of amazing things since I've moved to Japan. A new job in a different country, new co-workers and friends, work parties, themed bars, cafes, and hookups with pretty strangers. There was a long list of great things I've had going on, and a long list of things I've never expected... and being fired from the job I had for a year was not one of them.
"A year of hard work... for nothing," I mumbled bitterly as I sat at the bar with my close friend, and now ex-coworker, Keiko. She was beautiful, with long black hair and brown eyes. She frowned, a sympathetic look on her pretty face as she sighed.
"I'm so sorry," she said softly, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sure you'll find something else soon! You have an awesome resume, and you're an amazing worker who can speak English, Japanese AND Spanish... there is totally a place for you out there!"
Keiko has always been supportive and enthusiastic, a really bright and friendly girl who made it her mission to befriend me as soon as I started working with her. She was relentless, and soon enough, I found myself spending many hours with the woman.
"Yeah..." I just mumbled again and she laughed softly.
"It's okay to mope... that's why I brought you here!"
"Yeah, about that," I started, sending Keiko a look as I swiveled the stool so my body faced her. "Why did you bring me here?" As soon as the work day was done, Keiko immediately dragged me to what was clearly a mafia bar. That didn't surprise me, since she was actually dating a mafioso.
A mafioso, who was part of the Port Mafia. It wasn't long after I moved to Yokohama that I started to hear stories about the organization, and was also warned not to cross them. Of course, with my luck, I became best friends with someone who dated someone who was in the Port Mafia. How a sweet girl like Keiko ended up with a man like him, I'll never know.
What I do know is that Taichi adored Keiko, gave her everything she could possibly want and need with the money he makes, and that was just being a normal grunt! Even so, it was dangerous, but Keiko didn't seem to mind.
"I come here with Taichi all the time," Keiko answered, sipping her drink. I turned to sip on my own. "You can't tell me it isn't luxurious." It was. My jaw had dropped to the floor when we first stepped into the very luxurious bar. "Don't worry about it, okay? Drink your sadness away! You're safe here. Since I am Taichi's woman, and you're with me, nothing will happen, okay?"
"Where is Taichi anyway?" I asked, glancing over her shoulder when I spotted a group of men walking in through the entrance. I missed the way the light left Keiko's eyes, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously. My eyes were on the men, which in the middle was a man with orange hair, a black hat adorning his head. I felt my breath hitch in my throat, my eyes looking at the very handsome man up and down. I swallowed thickly.
"He had a job tonight and couldn't make it. He'll be home to- hey, what are you looking at?" Annoyed at me ignoring her, she turned in her seat, a shocked look on her face before she smiled tightly.
"Taichi! I thought you had an assignment!"
"Hey, babe! We finished early, which was quite surprising, honestly."
The couple embraced and I barely registered the mushy love between the two as I watched the ginger man lead the rest of the group further into the bar. He walked by me, and before I knew it, dark blue eyes were staring right at me, eyebrows furrowed.
"The hell are you looking at?" he sneered and my face turned red, heart dropping in my chest.
"No one! I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, quickly turning back around and facing the bar.
"Tch. Whatever," the man only responded before walking off.
"You look like a cherry," Taichi said, clearly amused. I sent him a half-hearted glare, Keiko slapping his chest lightly.
"Be nice to her. She got fired today."
"Ohh, that sucks. If you need help-"
"She won't take it," Keiko said with a huff. "Stubborn ass."
I rolled my eyes at her, biting my lip nervously as I fiddled with my glass. "So uh... who was that guy? With the hat?"
Taichi blinked. "Oh, that's Chuuya Nakahara."
"Is he part of the Port Mafia?"
Taichi barked out a laugh, Keiko giggling softly behind her hand.
"Baby... he's an executive. Chuuya works closely with the leader of the Port Mafia."
"And I work under Chuuya," Taichi finished, amused at how wide my eyes have gotten at the answer.
"You mean to tell me... I pissed off... an executive member..." I was dismayed, heart pounding in my chest.
"Hmm, probably. Don't go home alone tonight," Taichi grinned as I balked, clearly having fun torturing me.
"Taichi! Babe, don't listen to him."
I gulped nervously, downing the rest of my drink before signaling to the bartender to get me another one.. "R-right..." Despite my better judgment, I turned my head, looking towards the obvious VIP section of the bar. Chuuya sat with some other grunts, a glass of what seemed to be red wine in his hand. Of course, his eyes found mines yet again and I whipped my head back around. Fuck, I did it again! I quickly downed the newly made drink, unaware of Chuuya's eyes narrowing as he watched me.
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"Nooo, do you have to go?" a drunk Keiko whined as she latched onto my arm, a forever amused Taichi watching on. "Don't leave me with hiiiiiiim."
"I want to go home, dammit," I huffed, successfully peeling her off of me and handing her to her boyfriend. "I have to start job hunting tomorrow. Thank you for bringing me here, I do feel better and I love you but... I'm tired."
"Ugh, you are such an old lady!" Keiko whined again and I couldn't help but laugh, turning to start walking towards the exit.
"Goodnight, you too. Please get her home safe, Taichi."
"I wouldn't count on it~"
I rolled my eyes at his teasing, leaving the two behind as I left the bar. I stepped out into the cool night air, shivering a bit as I closed my cardigan tightly around me. I wore a simple but cute outfit; a black dress with burgundy tights underneath, black flats on my feet and my favorite tan cardigan over the entire outfit. It helped me fight off a bit of the cold, but as I started to walk down the block, I grabbed my phone to start searching through my usual rideshare app.
I didn't get far. My phone cluttered to the ground as it fell out my hands, a gasp leaving my mouth as I was slammed against the nearby brickwall of a narrow, dark alleyway.
"Who the fuck are you?" a familiar voice hissed and I'm shocked to find Chuuya Nakahara glaring daggers at me, his strong hands pinning my arms against the wall. He growled when I didn't answer. "Answer me! Who sent you here?!"
"N-No one!" I cried out, shaking like a leaf. Of course, of course I would be confronted by a fucking high level member of one of the most dangerous organizations in Japan. "I swear, I just came here with my friend."
Chuuya growled again and he flipped me around, pressing my front against the wall. "Stay still," he grunted, and my face started to heat up as I felt his gloved hands quickly feel along my body. He was frisking me, and I gulped when he shoved his hand under my dress, producing the knife I had strapped to my thigh.
"I carry that to protect myself," I immediately explained, Chuuya turning me around again to face him. His eyes were still narrowed, staring me down as if trying to figure out what the hell I was up to.
"And the bouncer didn't pat you down?" he questioned and I shook my head quickly.
"No, he didn't pat me or Keiko down."
"Tch, that's Taichi's woman," he said, though he still looked at me with narrow eyes, hesitating a bit before he turned my knife in his hand, handing it back to me hilt first. "You sure know how to make yourself look suspicious."
I cringed a bit as I strapped my knife to my thigh strap again. I missed how Chuuya's eyes lingered, him licking his lips. "That's my fault I... I know I was staring..." I could feel my face heat up again and I couldn't even look Chuuya in his face. "S-sorry if I creeped you out. I don't mean any harm. Keiko brought me here 'cause I got fired and she wanted to help me feel better..."
"Hm," was his only reply, crossing his arms over his chest. "What you do to fuck up?"
My mouth fell and I sputtered as I tried to come up with the words. "What do you mean?! I didn't fuck up!" I protested. "It literally came out of nowhere! I worked my ass off all year, only to get fired 'cause I wasn't what they needed anymore. Fucking bullshit."
Chuuya was amused by my little vent, snickering a bit as he gave me a quick look up and down. "I'm sure it wasn't your winning personality."
I scoffed. "Says the one that shoved a random woman against a wall?! That hurt, you bastard!"
Chuuya raised his eyebrows at me, and I immediately slapped my hands over my mouth.
Oh no. Fuck, I forgot who I was talking to.
Chuuya snickered again, his eyes flashing in amusement. He stepped closer to me, making me press back against the wall again. Chuuya leaned his face close to mine, a smug smirk on his face as he spoke.
"Be careful who you talk to like that," he hummed, and I shivered despite feeling some of his body heat. "Someone might just cut out your tongue for talking back like that. Me? Well, it'd be a waste, especially when I think of all the things I could make you do with it."
I squeaked, the heat never leaving my face as I stared at Chuuya with a puzzled expression on my face. The sudden switch up was giving me whiplash... and lowkey turning me on. "I..." I stuttered, looking away and finally noticing my phone still on the ground. "Crap, I hope it's not broken."
I rushed over to pick my phone up, ignoring Chuuya's hard stare on me. I looked over my phone, sighing in relief when I saw that it had sustained no damages.
Chuuya then stepped up to me, jerking his head back towards the bar before walking off. "Let me take you home. Take that as an apology for being so rough on you."
I blinked. "Um..."
"Hurry up!"
"Okay!" I squeaked and followed after the man quickly, chewing on my lip as I asked myself... what the fuck was I doing? Am I really about to get inside this man's car? He was a stranger! Who frisked me! Let alone, he is clearly a dangerous man.
I must be insane.
"Tell me," Chuuya started and I was dumbfounded as he approached a rather cool looking motorcycle. No way. "What the hell were you being so creepy for?" He turned to me and asked, an all-knowing smirk on his face. I blushed deeply. Of course, he already was able to figure it out once he realized that I wasn't a threat.
"No reason," I huffed out, earning a low laugh as Chuuya grabbed the only helmet I could see. I looked at him confused, gasping when he unceremoniously placed the helmet over my head. "What about you?"
"I don't need it," Chuuya simply answered before he finally mounted his bike. "Come on, you little liar. Hop on."
I couldn't help but stare, my mouth going dry as I took in the image of this handsome bastard with his bike. The engine roared as he turned it on, revving it a bit and making me make a mess in my panties.
"Hey, ya done eyefucking me, dollface?"
I sputtered. "I was NOT eyefucking you!" I stormed over to the bike, glaring at the grinning bastard as I climbed onto the bike behind him.
Chuuya snorted. "Yeah, like you weren't eyefucking me earlier in the bar," he retorted, easily reaching behind him to grab my wrists, pulling me against his back as he wrapped my arms around him. I was stunned silent, from his words, and his actions and the fact that his back felt so solid.... and he smelled so good...
"I was not..." I mumbled, pressing my cheek against his back. "Shut the fuck up."
He laughed darkly, and that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Where do you live?" Chuuya asked and I hesitantly told him my address. "I know where that is. Hold on."
"You do? It's on the other side of the city," I said and Chuuya just chuckled softly, looking over his shoulder and smirking at me.
"And who exactly runs this city?"
I clamped my mouth shut, his eyes staring into mine. I blushed and looked away from him. He turned his head back around with an amused laugh, the engine revving as he took off on his bike.
"Hold tight, dollface!"
He didn't have to tell me twice, my arms tightening around his torso as he sped down the street, weaving in and out of traffic. It was scary, but also so fucking exhilarating. My heart was thudding in my chest, my eyes watering because of the wind. Still, I kept them open, wanting to watch the world blur by us. Chuuya made a sharp, right turn, making me scream while he laughed loudly. 
"Man up!" he yelled at me.
"Stop driving like a crazy person!" I yelled back.
I didn't see the large, almost evil smirk that grew on Chuuya's face. Didn't see him licking his lips excitedly as he eyed a rather tall building coming up ahead.
"Tell me, dollface," he hollered back at me, revving the engine and I gulped as I held him tighter, his bike going faster. A bad feeling started to settle in my stomach, balking when he asked his next question. "Do you want to defy gravity?"
I didn't have time to answer, not when I finally realized that we were heading right towards the side of the building. I couldn't even scream, fear striking me as I suddenly started to see red, body jostling as Chuuya maneuvered the bike to jump in the air.... before landing perfectly on the side of the building and continuing vertically up towards the sky.
"Don't let go!" Chuuya sneered. Like that was ever going to happen.
I didn't dare turn my head to look down, my wide eyes staring up into the night sky as we made it closer to the top of the building. I couldn't even think straight, my body just running on nothing but adrenaline and fear.
"Ch-Chuuya!" I gasped out sharply, the bike finally making it to the roof of the building. Chuuya didn't slow down though, only barreling towards the edge and I started to panic. "Chuuya! What are you doing?!"
Chuuya only snickered, revving the engine once more before sending the bike flying off the edge of the building. I squeak and screw my eyes shut, pressing my face against the middle of his back. I didn't want to watch us plummet to our doom.
"Hey, idiot, open your eyes."
I whimpered and shook my head. "N-No..."
Chuuya sucked his teeth. "Just open your eyes! You'll regret it if you don't."
Biting my lip, I wanted a moment before I lifted my head up and opened my eyes, a small gasp leaving my mouth as I looked around me.
We were still floating in the air, biking moving through the sky. The City of Yokohama was lit up beautifully underneath us. I looked over, seeing the ocean at a distance, the ferris wheel lit up and spinning slowly. My mouth had fallen open, eyes wide in wonder. Chuuya was looking back at me, a triumphant grin on his face.
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We made it to my apartment and Chuuya stood over me, an amused smile on his face as he watched me melt on the ground after I got off his bike.
"That was intense..." I mumbled, still feeling the effects of flying through the fucking sky. "I shouldn't even be surprised that you're gifted, with the power that you have already in the Port Mafia."
"Yeah, it was pretty great, huh," Chuuya said smugly, gloved hands stuffed in his coat pockets. I laughed softly, slowly standing up with my shaky legs. He took one look at my frazzled state and he grew even more smug. "That's a cute look on you, though if I really had my way with you, you wouldn't even be able to stand."
My face turned hot, sputtering as I tried to respond, but I had nothing to even say. Because the thought of actually inviting Chuuya inside and--
"Fuck..." I breathed out softly, looking at the man standing before me. His eyes didn't leave mine, the heat in them making a shiver go down my spine. "Do you... want to come inside?"
Chuuya fixed his hat on top of his head. "Lead the way, dollface."
"So... your ability lets you control gravity?" I asked once we made it inside the elevator of my apartment building. We were going fifteen stories up, after Chuuya parked his bike safely, of course.
"To put it simply, yes," Chuuya answered, stepping closer to me. I gasped softly when he grabbed my chin, the leather of his glove pressing against my skin. "But we're not here to talk about that." He pressed himself against me fully, leaning his face in until his lips hovered just above mine. I shivered, looking at him with hooded eyes. "This will be a one time thing, dollface."
I nodded, appreciating his honesty. "Of course," I replied just as the elevator stopped on my floor, doors sliding open. I grinned at him. "So let's make it count."
He liked the sound of that, grabbing my wrist and leading me out the elevator. I rushed to my apartment, grabbing my keys and hurriedly unlocking the door before opening it.
The door slammed shut as Chuuya immediately pressed me against it, his lips on mine in a fervorous kiss. I knocked his hat off his head as I ran my fingers through Chuuya's hair, moaning when his hands started to roam all over my body.
"Fuck..." I moaned softly when Chuuya started to kiss down my neck, squealing when he squeezed on my ass.
"Damn... you won't be able to fucking sit right, either," he growled against my neck as he massaged my ass and thighs. "Let's go."
Groaning when he moved himself away from me, I rushed to lead Chuuya to my bedroom, our clothes coming off in the process and making a trail on the floor.
It didn't take us too long to start really going at it, our lust fueling us to incredible heights. Chuuya held my hips tightly with his leather clad hands, thrusting his hard cock in and out of my soaking pussy.
He was fucking me hard, my body just sprawled on the bed as I moaned and grunted from the pleasure this man was giving me. "Fuck, fuck, Chuuya!" I whined, making the man grin widely as he kept his pace. Sweat covered both of our bodies, moans and deep growls mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin.
"That's right, dollface, ride me," Chuuya smirked up at me, now on his back as I bounced up and down on his cock. His hands were right on my hips, his eyes going back and forth between  watching my bouncing breasts and watching his cock disappear inside my heat. "Fuck, you're so fucking sexy," he growled, thrusting up particularly hard and making me toss my head back, screaming when I finally fucking cum.
"Oh my God!" I gasped sharply, still squeezing around him as I began to slow down. "Oh fuck... it's so good," I moaned, reaching out and hooking my finger into Chuuya's black choker. I pulled and he pushed himself up, lips meeting mine in a messy kiss.
I moaned against his mouth, still slowly riding him as his hands ran up and down my sides, the leather cool against my skin. Then, Chuuya placed his hands on my hips, and with a mischievous little smirk, he licked his lips. Immediately, my body started to feel a little bit lighter, and Chuuya started to effortlessly bounce me up and down on his cock, 100% controlling my body with his ability.
"Chuuya..." I moaned his name, head lolling back. He continued to maneuver my body, little grunts and moans leaving his own mouth as he worked to reach his own pleasure, and mine.
I came again, tears falling down my face from the intense pleasure, and that was enough for Chuuya to pull me off of him completely, putting me on my knees before him on the bed. His hand grabbed the back of my neck and he pushed my head down, stuffing his cock in my mouth.
"Take it," he growled, his hands in my hair and using it to push my head up and down as he fucked my mouth. I moaned around him, a new wave of pleasure washing over me as I let the mafioso use me as he wanted. Soon enough, he exploded into my mouth, and I made sure I swallowed all of him.
"Fuck, that's hot..." Chuuya breathed out when I opened my mouth to show him that I did so. "You're such a good girl, dollface."
That made me flustered and I looked away shyly, earning a chuckle from him. I looked over when I felt him get up from the bed, thinking that he would leave. Instead, he just gave me a look. "Where is your shower?"
We showered together,  which took longer than needed because Chuuya couldn't keep his hands to himself. I was surprised when he climbed into bed with me afterwards, allowing me to cuddle against him as we slowly fell asleep.
I wasn't surprised though, when I woke up the next morning, sore and alone. I didn't get too upset about it, though. Chuuya laid it out clear and I accepted it and moved on.
I sat on my dining room table, looking through the newspaper as I sipped on my morning coffee. I was looking for a new job and figured looking at the local ads wouldn't hurt.
"Hm... let's see..." I whispered, reaching over and grabbing my knife. I ran the tip of it down the paper, stopping when one particular ad stuck out. "Hm... the Armed Detective Agency, huh? Interesting..." I set my knife down, staring at the ad as I took another careful sip of coffee.
-End
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starter-library · 2 years
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ORVILLE PECK'S PONY LYRIC STARTERS
FEEL FREE TO CHANGE PRONOUNS/NAMES/PHRASING AS YOU SEE FIT
Dead of Night
“The sun goes down, another dreamless night”
“Baby, let's get high”
“You say, "Go fast," I say, "Hold on tight””
“See the boys as they walk on by”
“Six summers down, another dreamless night, you're not by my side”
Winds Change
“Had a lover but I lost my patience”
“Got a fire but you just can't use it”
“Lost my way on the other side I know why, I don't know when”
“From the way that we said goodbye I knew I'd never see you again”
“Met a lot of men who would call me pretty”
“Don't it make you cry, how we're getting older?”
Turn to hate
“Tell me you can’t stay”
“Don't leave, don't cry”
“You're just another boy caught in the rye”
“Head full of nothing and I'm wondering why”
“Yeah, I'm something of a liar now ‘cause I've seen it all before”
“Tell me you can't wait”
“You'll all be stars, now just you wait”
“Don't let my sorrow turn to hate”
Buffalo Run
“I consider it another man's problem”
“Hitch a ride on my violence live in fear”
“I caught you staring at the sun”
“Looking out for number one”
“Strike a match, leave a lick and a promise”
Queen of the Rodeo
“Don’t be down, girl, this world is a bummer”
“You know the tune so the words don't matter”
“Beyond this town lies a life much sadder, babe”
“The night is long, your days are numbered”
“You're ridden out with nowhere else to go”
“See you 'round”
Kansas (Remembers Me Now)
“Come and lay down your shoulders”
“Tomorrow isn't that far and if we don't get older just know you were always my star”
“But if I die, don't you cry”
“Clutter's gone, do I regret it? Not a thing”
Old River
“Still, there's snow left on the ground”
“Each small bullet makes a sound”
Big Sky
“Fell in love with a rider”
“I like him best when he's not around”
“Heartbreak is a warm sensation when the only feeling that you know is fear”
“Visit once in a while when I'm not at sea”
Roses are Falling
“Back on the run, back to the blue”
“Winning is fun, losing is, too”
“Without a trace, l'lI wait for you”
“Don't let me in, I don't know what I'd do”
“You know, darling, you bring out the worst in me”
“Sometimes when I'm around you, I feel like pure evil”
“I guess they say nobody's perfect but they've never met a devil like you”
Take you back (the Iron Hoof Cattle Call)
“Hear you've been coming 'round my door”
“I'm keen to play with fire, but now I'm not so sure”
“I've been around this world and now everything's a bore”
“I don't know that much, but I know about keeping score”
“And if there's one thing I know for sure it'll be a long, cold day in Hell when I take you back”
“This town has always bored me and baby, that's including you”
“I've been around this world and it's rotten to the core”
“I got a face of gold, I got a heart of coal but baby, that's my cross to bear”
“I won't take you back”
Hope to Die
“Gone was the way we were, Just like the days we'd burn”
“Take me back to the time I was yours, and you were mine”
“Take me back to the words I'd say”
“I'm still undone, not quite young But I, I still try”
“Take me back to the world I know”
“They don't cry where we go”
Nothing Fades Like the Light
“Some men only ride alone, I only ride in the night”
“Some drown in the warmth of home but nothing fades like the light”
“April showers, June is the same in your eyes”
“Something tells me you know why I lie”
“Time goes by, I wanna rise up”
“I know why things change and I know why I stay the same”
“Some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight”
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Happiness
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| evermore masterlist |
A/N: this is my first fic for the collab with @just-a-belgian-girl! I hope you enjoy it! This honestly took too long to write lol
Honey, when I'm above the trees
I see this for what it is
But now I'm right down in it
All the years I've given
Is just shit we're dividing up
Showed you all of my hiding spots
I was dancing when the music stopped
And in the disbelief
I can't face reinvention
I haven't met the new me yet
It was a chilly Autumn night, Sirius was yet to return home from his latest mission, so you were stuck eating dinner alone… again.
You had come out of Hogwarts a year and a half ago. You were now living with your boyfriend. You were happy as one could be when your relationship starts feeling forced.
In all honesty, one side of you knew that he had fallen out of love. But your naive side won out whispering ‘it’ll be okay’ ‘he still loves you’ ‘his work is just taking a toll on him’ into your ear, preventing you from seeing the truth. So you continued on, stuck in the same routine as always.
Tears slid down your face as you stood to put your dishes away. Of course this happened to you. Nothing ever won out in your favour.
Hearing a knock on the door, you startle and drop the plate into the sink. You plaster on the smile you have been practicing for the past year.
There'll be happiness after you
But there was happiness because of you
Both of these things can be true
There is happiness
Past the blood and bruise
Past the curses and cries
Beyond the terror in the nightfall
Haunted by the look in my eyes
That would've loved you for a lifetime
Leave it all behind
And there is happiness
You hadn’t noticed it was raining until you opened the door wide to let Sirius in. He was soaked through, looking like a drowned rat.
He shrugged off his cloak and threw it over the coat rack, tracking the water indoors. He bends down and kisses your cheek, lacking the warmth it used to have. He murmurs a hello before continuing to the kitchen.
“Dinner’s on the table” you pointlessly mutter, following him through. “I’m just gonna go to bed...” He barely acknowledges what you said, too busy helping himself to the food. You wrap your arms around your aching torso and go upstairs, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.
You close the door behind you, enclosing yourself in the dark. You flop down onto the bed, tears flowing freely. What had happened to the beautiful romance the two of you used to have? Oh, how you miss it. Everything was so much simpler back then.
You curl in on yourself, as if trying to protect yourself from the hurtful truth. After a while, Sirius sneaks in, bending over to give you a goodnight kiss. If he notices your puffy eyes, he doesn’t say anything.
Tell me, when did your winning smile
Begin to look like a smirk?
When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?
I hope she'll be a beautiful fool
Who takes my spot next to you
No, I didn't mean that
Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury
You haven't met the new me yet
The sun isn’t even up by the time you both get out of bed. It’s quiet, something totally out of character for Sirius.
He was sitting at the table, head in his hands. You walk behind him and hug him from behind, sliding your hands down his chest. “What’s wrong beautiful?” He shrugs off your hands and stands up, chair cluttering down behind him.
“I’m just- I’m just not feeling the greatest right now.” He leans on the table, hair in his face. He was clearly exhausted. You place a tentative hand on his shoulder, slightly nervous to be touching him in this state. “Sirius if you want I can-” “Just stop.” He flings you hand off once more, turning to face you.
You blink owlishly up at him “What” “I just-” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “I need to be alone right now”
‘I need to be alone right now��
The words echo in your mind. For six months you have been hearing that one repeat. You were sick of it.
Barely registering what you were doing, you slap the top of the table in anger. “No.” He lowers his hand and stares at you incredulously. “No?” It comes in a whisper. The calm before the storm.
You nod feverishly “No. I have had it up to here with your excuses as to why you can’t hang out with me anymore. I didn’t come into this relationship only to be second guessing whether or not my boyfriend loves me.” He goes to interrupt but you plow on, refusing his input.
“Time and time again I have pushed down my anger and hurt saying ‘he’s just going through something’ but you’re not, you’re not. Just.. tell me what I’m doing wrong!”
The room feels more crowded as he moves toward you, eyes spitting fury. “What’s wrong?” He gestures to the two of you. “We are wrong. We can never agree, constant nit-picking at each other and so much anger!”
You throw your hands up in rage “I’m only angry because you neglect me! You slouch inside the house every. Single. Evening. So mopey and goddamn tired either demanding food or sleep and I can’t handle it! You are NOT the Sirius Black of Hogwarts.”
He freezes in anger stone cold. Impassive. Then, he erupts. “Open your eyes Y/n! THIS ISN’T HOGWARTS ANYMORE. We can’t run around like the kings and queens of the world anymore! You don’t think I want to go back? You don’t think-” he chokes, angrily wiping away tears. “You don’t think I want everything as it was?” His voice drops at this, letting the tears fall.
“I can’t take this new world! It’s big! It’s cold! It’s dog eat dog constantly. Someone like me can’t survive out here! I need life, love, I need warmth. But day in and day out I sit here slowly freezing from the inside out.”
He wraps his arms around his torso and bends over, screaming with so much hurt and anger that you start to cry as much as him.
“I’m sorry Y/n, I just can’t do this anymore.”
He walks away from you, fingers working at his hair. He stomps outside, front door slamming shut causing the whole house to shake.
There'll be happiness after me
But there was happiness because of me
Both of these things I believe
There is happiness
In our history
Across our great divide
There is a glorious sunrise
Dappled with the flickers of light
From the dress I wore at midnight
Leave it all behind
And there is happiness
You hear the roar of his motorbike before you see him leave. You knew this was a long time coming. In a way you were sort of relieved. But damn you forgot how much it stung.
He was gonna come back soon. You just knew it. But he wasn’t going to stay.
This was the end.
The end of you and him. Him and you. Forever.
‘Oh well’ you think, but the tears in your eyes say otherwise. It just started really sinking in now.
You rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. It was way too early for this shit. You finally get up to make yourself a cup of coffee and go sit on your porch.
The sun was starting to rise but you had little appreciation for it. Content to sip your coffee and overthink. It wasn’t until the warm, golden rays of the early morning hit your face did you really start to appreciate it. Hell, you hadn’t seen the sun rise in forever. You slowly place the cup down and rest your arms upon your legs, leaning in. You close your eyes and feel the soft sun upon your face. For the first time in ages you feel whole again.
I can't make it go away by making you a villain
I guess it's the price I pay for seven years in heaven
And I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night now I get fake niceties
No one teaches you what to do
When a good man hurts you
And you know you hurt him too
He comes back near nighttime, significantly calmer than hours before. You were sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch and reading your book. “Did you come back to get your stuff?” You ask, idly flipping over the page. The only response was the sound of a suitcase being dragged across the floor.
He dragged it all the way to the front door, pausing. You stand up from your position, a little confused. “So are you gonna go or-?”
“I never meant for this to happen..” Sirius whispered, so quietly you had to strain to hear him. He turned around to face you, tear tracks staining his cheeks. “I thought we would last forever like James and Lily.”
Sighing you walk over to him resting a hand on his arm “James and Lily are one of a kind. We just weren’t meant for this type of long time relationship.” You smile gently at him, feeling unreasonably calm. “You said it yourself back in 5th year. Honestly we tried too hard didn’t we.” You feel your own eyes start to well up. Fuck, you had thought you were done with tears.
He drops his suitcase and pulls you in for a hug, resting his head on yours. In that hug you feel all the memories you shared and the countless deeds you had committed together pass through. All of those memories were now sitting in an old castle, shut away and partially forgotten.
The two of you pull away and you wave him off. The night quickly swallows him up, leaving where he was going to himself and the night only. The cold air bites at you but you can’t bring yourself to go in just yet, so you sit down and wait. Waiting for what, you don’t know. Finally you force yourself to go in, the house more quiet than you had ever heard it.
Honey, when I'm above the trees
I see it for what it is
But now my eyes leak acid rain
On the pillow where you used to lay your head
After giving you the best I had
Tell me what to give after that
All you want from me now
Is the green light of forgiveness
You haven't met the new me yet
And I think she'll give you that
If someone had told you that in 2 years time that Sirius would break up with you and you were gonna be sleeping alone you would've laughed in their face. But it wasn’t all that funny anymore.
Your body fluids must have gone down to 20% due to the amount of tears you were shedding. Did they ever end? Everytime you wiped your face, your hand came back damp with tears.
It was one of those nights where everything felt lonely. The house had been eerily quiet for days now and...deserted. You shift onto your side, unable to sleep. The left side of the bed remained untouched and cold. You reach over and lay your hand on the pillow. You can almost feel him there. But of course, it’s empty.
You throw yourself out of bed, stomping out to the front.
In the lamplight you see a young couple twirling their way along the sidewalk, their laughter rings around the street, so carefree and drunk on love. You smile softly at them, hoping to god that their relationship lasts.
But like everything in life, they pass by. Leaving the night silent and judging as before. You sigh and open your mouth feeling the need to vent your problems to the night.
“I know our relationship is done, and we won't ever get back together again. But god, I regret forcing it to work. Maybe if we had just let it be…we would’ve lasted longer.” You rest your cheek in your hand and close your eyes. “But that's just wishful thinking.”
There'll be happiness after you
But there was happiness because of you too
Both of these things can be true
There is happiness
In our history
Across our great divide
There is a glorious sunrise
Dappled with the flickers of light
From the dress I wore at midnight
Leave it all behind
Oh, leave it all behind
Leave it all behind
And there is happiness
For the next few weeks your mind is surprisingly clear. You sell your old house and move into a little town on the edge of a forest. You explore the little village you landed yourself in, feeling more free than ever.
You walk back along the dirt path towards your house. You feel warmth on your hair and tilt it towards the setting sun, smiling softly for the first time in weeks.
Oh how you could stay here forever. And you will.
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Softly, Barely a Whisper -- Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (part one)
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Softly, Barely a Whisper — Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (pre apocalypse) (part one)
Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three
Description: (Name) moved in with her uncle, the Sheriff of a little town in Northern Georgia, to escape an abusive household. While living with her uncle, she meets Daryl, a redneck with a heart of gold and a life very similar hers. Fluff and angst and awkward shy Daryl Dixon ensue.
⚠Warning⚠: great amounts of bad language, past mentions of abuse, past mentions of rape, there's probably more, this'n's kinda a mess. Don't read if you get triggered easily.
Genre: angsty fluff?? Hurt/comfort?? I've no idea. Is awkward Daryl a genre?
Pairing: teen!Daryl Dixon x teen!fem!abused!reader
A/N: hey, sorry I've been gone for forever, I suck at commitment. I also suck at naming things, hence the title. I wrote another long motherfucker of a "oneshot" and therefore am breaking it into chapters like I did with Impromptu Cuddles, so look out for the other chapters soon enough. Enjoy.
Words without A/N: 3242
<—————————————>
"Sure thing, Daryl. You can use whatever ya'd like, just make sure you put it back afterwards. The doors unlocked and yer more than welcome to go in for a drink or anythin' if ya need it." Bill Coleman, or Sheriff Coleman, as most knew him by, called out as he moved to open the door to his cruiser.
The Sheriff was an interesting character to the youngest Dixon. He had hardened features and a voice like a gravel truck that immediately implied a harsh disposition, his eyes were constantly squinted into a look that resembled judgment, and the vibe he gave off was just generally unpleasant; but, in all reality, Bill Coleman was probably the gentlest man Daryl had ever met. He understood the workings of the Dixon household without ever having to be told, and did what he could to make life any bit easier for the teenager. Whether that be arresting the senior Dixon whenever he found possible, or offering Daryl a place to stay in his home over the weekend. Bill was, all in all, a genuinely kind human being. Something, Daryl found, was rather rare in his life.
But, even though the Sheriff had his trust, and he knew the Sheriff trusted him the same, it still came as a bit of a shock to him to see the officer willingly let him, a Dixon, have open access to his house while no one else was home.
Everyone knew not to trust a Dixon. Nobody in the town was willing to make eye contact with him, let alone trust him to their house and belongings while they were away. Will, his father, had done a fine job of destroying the family name in his drunken escapades, and his brothers addictions did nothing to help. This, combined with the confusion and disbelief that coursed through his system, explained the gawk the boy's eyes held as he stared in awe at Mr. Coleman's retreating figure.
This had to be some kind of trick, right?
"Oh," the Sheriff called. There it was, the part where he'd laugh it off and say "just kidding. Like I'd let a freak like you into my home without supervision."
Once again surprising the young man, his expectation was the farthest thing from what the greying man actually said.
"I fergot ta mention my niece, my sisters kid. She'll be here soon enough, gets off work in a half hour or so. She's been stayin' with me since, ah–" he trailed off a bit, one leg up in the cruiser, the other still planted firmly on the ground as he looked at Daryl over the door's window, looking mildly uncomfortable "–well, she's jus' stayin' with me. She's real sweet, you'll prolly get along with 'er. Jus', eh, just be soft, ya hear? She's a bit skittish, and real shy, too, so don't be too offended if she avoids ya, she don't mean it rude like."
And what on earth could he mean by that? The avoiding that he'd done when describing why she was here, what had happened that he didn't want to talk about? Daryl had a few theories already.
"'Till later, Daryl. Take care, and remember what I told ya, boy." With a wave and a caring (or warning, he could never quite tell with the old man) smile, the grizzled man pulled out of the small driveway and onto the road leading out of the trailer park to go do his civic duty, leaving a still heavily confused, and now slightly concerned, Daryl Dixon standing outside of his garage.
This man, knowing his family's history with bad habits, was not only willing to let the teenager into his home without a watchful eye, but was also perfectly okay knowing he'd be there, alone, with his (skittish and shy) niece?
Maybe the old man is finally losing it, he thought.
Still in shock, the young man turned on his heel, and began the short trek back to the shedd to continue working on the pickup that he had been working on fixing up. Though it was really nothing but a shell sitting on bricks right now, he knew that someday it'd be his pride and joy.
Some uncounted amount of time later, Daryl was finally pulling himself out from under the hood. His throat itched with dryness, and he was covered in sweat from the never-ending harshness of the Georgian sun, but, nonetheless, he couldn't help the little spike of pride that ran through him as he looked down at the beginnings of the new-made guts of his pickup. Allowing himself the luxury of a small smile, he decided he'd finally take the old Sheriff up on his offer, and moved to head into the house to grab something to wet his throat, and maybe even a rag to wipe off his face, if he was feeling risky.
He found, upon entry, that the house was relatively clean. Cleaner than it had been the last time he'd been in there, at least, and only as clean as an old trailer house could really get.
Still, where before there had been newspapers scattered, now there were none, and in place of the cluttered kitchen was a clean countertop and a basket of fresh apples. He didn't dwell on it a whole lot as he moved to the sink to fill up a plastic solo cup, though he did wonder if Bill would mind if he stole an apple. The young Dixon couldn't really remember the last time he'd eaten.
Filling his cup, he was quick to chug it down, the cold a dramatic (but welcome) shock against the harsh dryness of his throat. He let the water run into the sinks basin as he filled the cup up again, again, and then one more time, and only on his fifth return to the water did he realize the difference in sound. A few inches of water was backed up in the bottom of the sink, refusing to go down the drain like it should, and completely changing the sound the water pouring from the faucet made as it headed downwards.
Quickly setting the cup aside and turning off the faucet, he watched the water make its incredibly slow decent into the drain, and decided he needed to pay back Sheriff Coleman's hospitality. It was the least he could do, after all.
Opening the doors that lead to the plumbing beneath the sink, Daryl set himself to work.
~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~
"Good night, (name)!" Mr. Sennet's overly cheery voice called to the young woman as she moved her way through the front doors of the diner.
Calling out a quick goodbye to him as well, she hurriedly climbed into her rig. A shitty little Honda though she was, she still got the young (name) from a to b, and (name) would be forever grateful to her uncle for gifting it to her.
Dusk was just beginning to settle as she took off towards her new residence, and she worried slightly if her uncle would be angry that she was out later than usual. The diner had been busier tonight than normal, and instead of getting off at seven, as per usual, it was now closer to nine.
Taking a calming breath, she reminded herself aloud:
"He's not like they were, he won't be mad at you. He's not like them, he won't be mad."
Though she really did believe it, she still repeated it aloud to herself the entire way back to the house, as if she thought she could will it into existence if she hoped hard enough.
It was silly, she knew, but she didn't really care. After all she'd been through, she thought she deserved a little self reassurance.
The drive to her new home was short lived, though she didn't much mind. She hated to be alone now, it gave her too much time to think, and far too much time to overthink. A regular pastime of hers, it seemed.
It was odd, really. Before, when it was just her and the chromed glass house and the bruising voices, before she was taken away by her uncle, she loved to be alone. She cherished the times of peace she had between the hurt. Now, if she was alone for more than thirty minutes, it was likely she'd be found having a mental breakdown in a bathtub.
But, enough of the depressing stuff.
As the scarred girl pulled into the driveway, she didn't notice the second pair of tracks that accompanied her uncles, as she was far too wrapped up in her head. Something she'd be sure to kick herself for at a later date. She didn't notice the single light that was on in the kitchen, either, nor did she pay mind to the tools that lay neatly around their box as she passed the shedd that functioned as a garage, and she simply put the shell of a pickup truck that sat just outside off as another of her uncles pastimes. Opening and stepping through the front door, she didn't even notice the smudge of mud off the sole of someone's shoe that was left on the carpet.
She did, however, definitely notice the way the hair on the back if her neck stood to attention at the sound of a voice that most definitely wasn't the Sheriffs cursing angrily from the kitchen. Metal clinking to the ground and a tapping on something that echoed like tubing followed behind the exclamation, and (name) felt herself seize up in fear.
"It can't be them," she reminded herself silently, "it isn't them, it can't be."
Swallowing her fear, trying desperately not to let the tears that branded the backs of her eyes build enough to fall, (name) forced herself to move farther into the room, grabbing the aluminum baseball bat that resided behind the door and dropping her bag by a table near the door as she did.
Thinking back to the little bit of self defence that Bill had taught her upon her moving in, she pulled the bat to her side to keep it close enough that no one could easily pull it from her grasp, but could still cause some damage if shoved forwards hard enough.
Sneaking around the corner of the refrigerator that hid the person from view, she took a deep, calming breath before poking her head around to take a peek.
He was young, she could tell, likely not much older than herself. Shaggy, brown-blond hair nearly reached broad shoulders, and even though he was hunched over beneath the kitchen sink, she could still tell he was much larger than her. Muscles flexed under a sleeveless button-down shirt as he twisted a wrench against the plumbing under the basin, grunting lightly as he did.
He didn't seem like he was there to cause trouble, she figured. Who in their right minds broke into a house just to fix their backed up sink? Oh dear, maybe he's not in his right mind? What if they sent him and he's here to kill the girl? What if he was there to bring her back to them somehow? But they were away, they couldn't hurt her, could they? Even from the depths of prison, or the entrapment of the psych ward, the girl didn't really doubt that one of the two could get a word out to have her hurt (killed?) for getting them put away. She was going to die now and she wouldn't even be able to fix the meatloaf that she had planned for tonight's dinner. She felt her body begin to tremble (or perhaps it was already, and she only just then noticed) and her eyes glazed themselves with tears, to her dismay.
Could she swing and knock him unconscious? Could she at least discombobulate the man long enough to escape? Could she really even hurt somebody like that?
Before she could come to a decision, however, the decision came to her.
Away in the living room, a phone rang. The shrill tlrrring! making both bodies jump slightly, and causing the boy bent beneath the kitchen sink to take notice of young (name).
Blue eyes widened as he caught sight of her, baseball bat clutched in hand, and he threw himself backwards and away, slamming his body into the ovens door. Instinctively, his arms moved to guard his face and torso.
"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!" The loud exclamation startled the girl, and she jumped again, shoving against the refrigerator hard enough to make it rattle dangerously.
~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~
Fixing the plumbing turned out to be far more difficult than Daryl had originally assumed. The bits holding the stuff to the things was rusted on, making it difficult to loosen the thingy mabob and clear anything clogging the that thing.
Putting all of his focus into wrenching the bits away from the stuff, Daryl completely failed to notice the other presence in the room with him, and when the phone in the other room shocked him out if his thoughts, he found his mind immediately assuming it was his father standing there with a weapon in hand.
As his back hit the oven and his arms moved to guard his head, he caught full sight of the person, and quickly came to realize his mistake. His heart beat harshly against his ribs, and he couldn't help but exclaim his dislike for the situation.
"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!"
At his shout, the girl flinched away from him so harshly that he thought the refrigerator was going to come crashing down on top of him, and he immediately felt guilty, for some odd reason.
She looked absolutely terrified. (Eye color) eyes big as saucers, glazed with fear and glossy with tears, shaking hands gripped the metal of the baseball bat so hard her skin turned white, and her entire body was shaking like a leaf. Her eyes never left his form as he slowly stood up from the ground, one hand still held out in front of him, whether to ward off an attack, or to show he meant no harm, neither really knew. The girl was down right terrified of him, and he hadn't so much as said a word to deserve it yet.
This had to be the niece the Sheriff was talking about, he decided. The scared look she was giving him as she slowly backed away from him made him feel downright awful, and he knew he needed to do something to show her he meant no harm. So, remembering her uncles words, Daryl worked to make his voice a bit less gruff than usual, and tried to keep the edge out of his tone.
"Uh-uh, I ain't here ta hurtcha, girlie–" she took another quick step back "–I'm a friend of Bill's. I was jus' comin' in ta get a drink, I ain't here ta hurtcha."
There was far more that could be said, he knew, but words never really were his forté, and he wasn't sure how much he could talk before he made her more uncomfortable. However, the little bit that he had said, mostly naming her uncle, he thought, had made her shoulders un-hunch a bit, though she kept her distrusting posture. Smart girl.
Slowly lowering the bat until it pointed at his chest she grabbed it with both hands and hesitantly backed out of the kitchen, beckoning him to follow her. Keeping him safely at the end of the bat, and moved to pick up the still-ringing phone and gingerly press it to her ear, her eyes never leaving him, and the bat never wavering (though it did shiver along with her tremors.)
Her eyes relaxed a bit more at the voice on the other end of the line, and though Daryl couldn't much hear the words that were being said—aside from the mumbled tone—he could still tell it was the sheriffs deep voice that spoke.
"Yeah? Uh-hm, good, I uh, I guess... I did. Of course," as she spoke to the formless voice, Daryl couldn't help the small spike of fear that ran up his spine. What if the Sheriff didn't want him there now that he'd scared the girl? He had warned him, he thought. What if Bill made him go back to his shit-hole house and wouldn't let him come back again? This place was one of the few he had to escape that hell, he didn't want to lose that. What if the officer freaked and called Daryl's dad to come pick him up? He'd have hell to pay if he let that happen. He was sure he'd end up with a few more scars at least if his dad were to find out that someone knew of what went on behind closed doors. The Sheriff, no less. What if he–
His spiraling thoughts were disrupted when he caught the sound of his name coming from the other end of the phone line and immediately tuned back in.
"Uhm, uh, yeah, I–I guess. I mean, yeah, yes, he's still here... Oh, no, he's, uh, he's been nice enough," was she even still talking about the red-necked youth? "Yes, of course it's okay, uncle Bill. Sure-sure thing, yeah, that's okay with me. I was thinking about making meatloaf tonight, anyway, that usually makes enough for more than just you an' me."
Wait, what?
The girl had lowered the weapon, though she still kept a tight grip in it, and gave him a shy, almost apologetic smile, before finally letting her eyes dart away. Daryl stayed frozen in his spot. What was even happening?
"–oh," she suddenly looked dejected at whatever had been said on the other side. Scared, almost. "Yeah, no, no, that's-that's okay, uncle Bill, sure thing. It's okay, promise," she suddenly donned a small smile, and though he knew imediately that it was fake, he still found himself startlingly light-of-breath at the sight.
"Yeah, of course, see you tomorrow, uncle, stay safe." Tomorrow? What? Why was all this so confusing to the youngest Dixon? Why was the disappearance of her smile making him feel so hollow?
The sudden change in the expression that the smaller figure wore was dramatically startling to Daryl. Going from sad and scared and sorry and a bit regretful to blushing and wincing and all together uncomfortable in the blink of an eye, the girl shriekingly exclaimed:
"Uncle Bill! No! Ew, gross! Don–Don't say things like that, ya nasty!" Daryl couldn't help but find her blush and stutter quite endearing.
Even from the few paces away that he was, he could still hear the loud laugh that erupted from the other side of the phone.
"Alrigh–alright, uncle Bill," the girls face was still flushed intensely, "I'm hanging up on you now... Yeah, yes, okay—thanks for that." She winced again at whatever he'd said, and she somehow flushed even harder. In a softer voice, now, "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Stay safe." Her last words were barely a whisper.
Slowly pulling the phone away from her ear, the girl placed it gently on the receiver before turning to glance at Daryl, though he took note that she never once fully looked at him again.
"I'm, uhm, I'm sorry," she whispered, grimacing softly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ו×~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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riyuu-bsd · 5 years
Text
I Love You [Edgar Allen Poe x Reader]
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"Edgar?" a feminine voice cooed, "Edgar?" The second call had more energy to it, the young lady stepping through the door to the apartment he had bought.
"(Y-Y/n)?" the male whispered, turning to face his friend, "I-I never expected to see you, o-oh dear, I would've tidied up if I ever expected to have you over, I-I'm so sorry for all the clutter-"
"Edgar, it's okay," she chuckled, "I don't mind."
The clutter of the room only seemed to add to the effect of how "him" it was. The walls were dark, painted a blackish-grey, curtains drawn closed and the rooms lit by a few candles he had littered around. The scent of lavender lingered around, the scented candle you had given him in order to help him sleep better obviously well taken care of. Karl lay asleep on the sleek black desk, the rather bulky chair he always kept around half under the desk, half out. She smiled to herself, looking at him fondly,
"Great to see you're feeling at home here in Japan," she chuckled, taking a seat at his desk.
"(Y-y/n), I have to work.." he whispered, motivated to finish the new novel he was working on but not wanting to brush off his closest friend.
"Edgarrrrrr," she whined, standing up and pulling him into a hug, "Please just spend the day with me.. I've missed you."
A shiver ran up his spine at their closeness, his arms wrapping around her feebly.
"I-"
"Or are you really gonna spend another six years trying to beat that guy, huh?" she whispered, "At least make time for me, Edgar, please.."
Her voice wavered heavily, cracking up at times. It nearly brought tears to his eyes, hearing her sound so hurt.
"A-alright, (Y/n)-Chan.." he cooed, the lady pulling away with a small smile as she whiped her eyes,
"Really? Oh that's great, Edgar!" she said, "Have you made any new friends?"
"I.. I think so.." he muttered, "There's Ranpo, after I showed him my novel he asked me to give him more puzzles sometimes.."
She hummed,
"Ah okay," she smiled, assured that the tall recluse would make time for her. He sat in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"It's been so long since we've talked.." he whispered,
"If you ever gave me your number, I could've called or messaged you," she whined slightly, leaning on the desk.
"I-I know.."
Before he could think, she had already picked up his phone and began punching her number into his contacts.
"Now you can call me!" she beamed brightly.
.
"So, what are we gonna do?"
"I.. Maybe.. I'm not sure.. Maybe we could go to a library of sorts?" he suggested, watching as she petted Karl adoringly.
"Could we not stay here?" she objected, "Maybe I could read the draft for your new book?"
"I- Okay.." he whispered, leaning over his desk to pick up the notebook he had drafted in. "I-it isn't all that good.."
"Edgar," she said curtly, "Stop doubting yourself; if it's written by you it's amazing,"
"I-" he began, cutting himself off as he felt himself blush,
"Actually," she began, looking up, "Can you read it out for me? I feel like it's better if I hear it from the author,"
"O-okay.." he muttered, retrieving the notepad and reading outloud what he had written.
As he did so, he noticed his close friend sit on the desk, swinging her legs lazily and looking at him encouragingly.
The first chapter he drafted went by, his voice steady and calm, completely emmersed in reading out to her.
"That's amazing!" She beamed, jumping off of his desk and sitting sideways on his lap, "I love it," she smiled.
The man blushed heavily, about to protest at her (in his opinion) bold action.
"Is it okay if I sit like this?" she cooed, voice barely above a whisper as she leaned into him, "It's more comfortable than on the desk and there are no more chairs,"
"I-I ca-can go g-get you a chair..!" he stammered, about to jump up and find one for her. She stayed still, leaning against his chest as she smiled slightly,
"It's comfortable like this.." she whispered, "But if you insist," she stood back up, the male still blushing madly.
.
Hurrying into another room to retrieve a spare chair for his close friend, the reclusive male began to panic,
"Oh dear.. She was so close.." he whispered frantically, "I- She-.." He attempted to string his feelings into a mental note to himself.
Eyes scanning the room, he found no trace of a chair.
Of course, he wouldn't mind her sitting like that with him were it not for his nerves.
He could barely speak when she was sat so close.
"Edgar?" she cooed, peeking through the doorway. She stepped behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and cuddling him, "Could you not find one?" she sighed, the man stiffening under her hold as he turned around to face her.
"(Y-y/n).." he whispered, blushing madly,
"What is it, Edgar?" she cooed looking up at him, "Do you need help with anything?"
"I-N-no.." he breathed, relaxing slightly.
"Okay," she hummed, "Can we sit down?"
The way she said we sent a shiver of nerves down his spine,
"S-su-"
Before he could finish his answer, she had tugged him into the room they were in before, a smile bright on his face as he sat down, the lady cuddling up to him in his lap once more.
Poe couldn't quell the frantic beating of his heart as she remained so close to him, simply enjoying him being there.
"Edgar," she began, barely above a whisper, "You're really comfortable.. Can we do this more often..?"
His face flushed further,
"O-okay.." he nodded weakly, "(Y/n)..?"
"Mhm?" the lady nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck loosely,
"Th-there's something I should.. Probably tell you.." he muttered, looking at anything but her.
"What is it, Edgar?" she said with a small, encouraging smile,
"Well.. I.."
It was then that he rethought what he was doing.
He was confessing, right?
Of course.
But he was confessing to his best friend, who was currently hugging him.
Sure, it was something that gave him confidence in his feelings.
But it made him more nervous as he choked on words he couldn't quite say.
If she said no, it would only make everything so much more awkward.
If she said no, his confidence would be shattered. Worse than when he lost to Ranpo.
"Edgar.. You can tell me anything, you know," she coaxed, "You don't have to, but it might help yo-"
"I can't stand this, (Y/n)," he said suddenly, cutting her off, "I can't stand being so close to you when I know you'd never like me back,"
He sounded more confident, but his words were filled with anxiety and self doubt,
"I can't stand being like this when I know tomorrow you're just gonna treat me as a friend again tomorrow," he continued, voice edging further and further onto the line of being angry, "I can't stand beingg so close to you.. But if there's ever distance, it makes me feel sick.. Like I'm never going to be good enough to confess.."
"I-.." she whispered, not sure how to react.
"No," he snapped, lifting her off of himself, "Dont say anything,"
"Edgar I-"
"Don't call me that, (L/n)-San," he said coldly, "Don't give me hope like that."
He stood up,
"I'm going to my room, get comfortable or leave, I don't care," he hissed, turning away and leaving.
He knew he cared.
He knew he loved her; wanted to be with her.
But he couldn't let himself fall anymore than he already had.
"Poe."
Her voice was steady.
"We can talk about this," she continued,
"No we can't, (L/n)," the male snapped, turning on his heels o face her, "We can't work this out, okay? Not everything is gonna sort itself out, not everything gets better with time, not everything can be talked ove-"
"Fine," her voice seemed to waver slightly, "At least I know I tried."
Before he could think over what he said, she was gone.
Regret began to sink in, the weight of everything he said crashing down.
How could he be so rude to the only one who supported him over those long six years?
How could he snap at someone he cared about so much?
How could he say that to her?
Guilt began to consume him.
It riddled gaping holes in his already withered self confidence, tears pooling in his eyes,
"How could I ever.. How could I ever do that.. To her.." he whispered, staring at where she once stood, "How..?"
.
.
.
Days passed, dragging on unbearably slowly.
He felt choked by guilt, nothing else on his mind.
He thought over and over.
Things he could've done differently to stop it.
To have her still there with him.
But no.
He was horrible to the only person who had stuck with him. The only person who seemed to really care about his feelings.
And he shoved her away.
A loud knock on the apartment door ripped him from his thoughts, the male deciding to ignore it.
"Edga- Poe.. Please answer.. I know you're there.."
It was her.
Why?
Why did she still care about him?
"Poe please.. I know you think we can't talk things over, but I have to tell you at least one thing first.."
He longed to see her again.
Say he's sorry.
Tell her he didn't mean all the things he said to make her sad.
But how nervous seeing her would make him shattered him.
"I know you're listening, Poe.." she said once more, "Please let me in.."
He lifted himself up, unable to resist the thought of things being okay with her again.
He swung the door open, instantly leaning down slightly to hug her.
"I'm sorry, (Y/n)-Chan.. I'm so, so sorry.." he whispered, tears threatening to fall,
"It's okay, Poe," she cooed, rubbing soothing circles on his back as she stepped inside, weary to move too much or bother her close friend, "I'm sorry I acted the way I did, I shouldn't have been like that," she whispered.
The man stayed quiet, wrapping his arms around her tighter,
"I just.. I just wanted to try and let you know I like you.." she confessed, "I'm sorry I left you like that, I should've tried harder to help you,"
"You didn't do anything wrong.." he spoke up, "I shouldn't have snapped like that,"
Her words began to sink in. She loved him?
"It's okay," she cooed, leaning her head against his chest, "It's okay.. I'm here now.. You're here now.."
He nodded slightly, pulling away from the hug with a small smile.
"I.. I guess I never said it properly, huh..?" he whispered, face bright red, "I love you, (Y/n)."
"I love you too, Edgar," she smiled, planting a quick peck on his cheek and wrapping her arms around him once more.
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