Hey! I have a request! Could you do a Poe x Shy Poet reader? The reader insecure of themselves and their work but one day decided to share their work with Poe , and how tries to make them feel better about their work? (If you need some poetry for the reader I’ve wrote some poems I can give you one! Even tho I’m also insecure about my work) Sfw but fluffy please!
Genre: SFW, Fluff
Tags: Confession, Comfort
A/N: Here it is, poe-is-bean! I hope the fluff is enough and you find it worth the looong wait. Thank you so much for sharing your own poems to me (theyre great) and I hope I did them some justice ;-; ENJOYYY~ ٩( ๑^ ꇴ^)۶
((EDIT!!! idk if the read more break can be seen on mobile but when i was editing, there's a break after the ask & idk how to fix it so im so sorry aaa))
***
The room is so empty
I can hear my own heartbeat
Day and Night
The sound of pencil on paper
It echos
I just want someone to talk to
Someone to hold me close
To make the room feel less empty
The words faded on the white paper as the ink on your pen ran out. You clicked your tongue and sighed as you look around the park you're sitting at. Just the cherry on top of your already dismal day, you thought.
It was a cloudy day but you squinted at the harsh light of the sun peeking slightly through the wispy clouds. You leaned back on the warm bench and closed your tired eyes. You slowly inhaled the delicious summer air but your chest feels as hollow as the tube of ink inside your pen.
"Karl! No!"
A voice suddenly rang from somewhere near and as you sluggishly open your eyes to peek, something heavy and fuzzy landed on your lap, causing you to shriek and jump from your seat. Your heart raced from the surprise, but as you quickly realized that it was just a raccoon who got attracted by the leftover peanuts you have on your side, you heaved a sigh of relief.
"No! Stop that!" A man with messy hair and an outfit that's undoubtedly too hot for the weather rushed to you. His eyes are barely visible through his dark overgrown hair but it wasn't able to hide the handsome features beneath.
"It-it's okay," you said shyly, mentally hitting yourself for stuttering. "He can have it. I don't mind."
"I really do apologize," the unknown man said, his voice low and trembling. He scratch his temple in embarrassment. "Karl is just crazy for peanuts lately."
You just gave him a meek smile and fiddled with the notebook on your lap. You thought about how cute it is that he has a pet raccoon, how cute it is that he named it with such a humanly name, and how cute he is.
Wait, what.
Heat rushed from your body and up to your face, feeling foolish for having such a thought with someone you just met. You hunched to hide your face, fearing the stranger would see the blush covering your cheeks.
"Can I sit with you?" He asked, snapping you away from your thoughts. "M-my name is Edgar, by the way. Edgar Allan Poe."
Your eyes traveled up his slender form. Despite his dark clothing, his timid and humble appearance made it easier for you to let him enter into your space. He thanked you and asked for your name in return. And just like that, your otherwise usual and grey day became colorful like the evening sky as you sat there beside him, familiarizing yourselves with each other while the innocent racoon eat the rest of the stale peanuts on the bench.
Is this a dream?
Is it real?
He was so close
Yet so far
We sat together for hours
The time was ours
But now it’s not
It slipped away
So quickly
Birds chirped around you as you looked up from your writing, searching through your surroundings and hoping to see the stranger once again. The more hours that passed, the more that you're starting to believe that it was just all somehow a vivid hallucination. You sighed in defeat and eyed another blank spot on your notebook. You thought about writing another poem about how sometimes, it's better to stay in an illusion than face reality because at least in your daydreams, wonderful things happen.
You pressed the tip of your pen on the paper to write the first letter of your work when all of a sudden, the ink bled all over the page, causing you to spat a curse under your breath. You quickly handled the situation, making sure that your clothes and the rest of your notbeook isn't affected by another one of your daily misfortunes. You groaned and pulled out the wipes out of your bag, aggressively wiping the stubborn ink blots on your hand.
"Um, are you okay, (Y/N)?"
You glared up to the quiet voice that called out your name. The tightness of your facial muscles from frowning slowly loosening up as you recognize the figure in front of you.
Poe's tall physique shaded you from the blazing sun and from where you are sitting, he looked just like a dream; a mirage that manifested out of your imagination and into your reality.
"I'm... I'm okay," you mumbled. Your heart thumped heavily against your ribcages as you remain frozen, your wide eyes glued to him as if you're scared that he'll disappear if you blink.
He flashed you a bright smile and gingerly sat beside you. Poe eyed the notebook on your lap and saw the familiar structure of the words on it.
"You write poems?" He asked with excitement evident on his voice, pulling you back to the ground. As Poe reached out to have a closer look with the item, you swiftly pulled away.
"Don't!" You exclaimed. The volume of your voice made nearby passerbys turn their heads on your direction and Karl critter on Poe's shoulder as if by surprise, too.
Poe was taken aback by your reaction as well but being a creator himself, he quickly understand that there is a certain reservation an artist have with its works. He understands the insecurity of being not good enough or questioning yourself as to why are you even trying when there's always someone out there that can do better than you. He knows the feeling very well.
"I'm sorry," he said calmly. "I know an artist's works are always very personal. I shouldn't have intruded."
Guilt spilled all over you and spread a bitter taste on your mouth. "I'm sorry, too," you sighed after a while. "I'm just not ready to show it to anyone yet. It's not your fault."
"I understand. I am a writer myself," Poe said with a gentle smile. "However, if the time has come when you've finally found the courage within you to be proud of yourself and your creations as an extension of yourself, it'll be my pleasure if you'll have me as the first person that would ever lay eyes on it."
Poe's words echoed to the deepest parts of your being. You felt bare to the bones, like everything that you've tried so hard to hide is just somehow exposed for him to see. Gone was his timid character and he's now exuding confidence; a sense of sureness in everything that can only come to people who has been through the ringer and survived to be an inspiration. Your eyes glistened to see another layer of his natural mystique unfold in front of you. Right then, you were filled with the hunger to know more, to uncover more, and to see more of his fascinating self.
Karl climbed down from Poe's shoulder, searched for something on his layered clothes and ran to your lap with an object wedged between his pointy mouth.
"It's a gift," Poe explained when Karl dropped an expensive looking pen in front of you. "I hope you never stop creating, despite of life's minor inconveniences."
"Would you meet me here again tomorrow?" You asked without you even realizing that you were speaking aloud and feeling the weight of your question only after it's done.
Poe tensed up on his seat. Your question was unexpected and it made his own heart raced for a reason he can't quite explain. However, seeing your eyes looking more alive than when he first met you delighted him and he gave you a humble smile.
"Karl has an appointment with the vet tomorrow," he said with his usual gentle voice. "But we can meet at the cafe nearby after."
Your heart soared way above the cloudless sky that day as a big smile stretched your lips and you felt like you haven't smiled like this for a while now. You accepted his invitation and noted the place and time on your notebook. For the first time in a long time, you felt thankful. You thank yourself for being able to push the words out, albeit almost unconsciously, and you thanked life. Despite the mishaps and blunders it brings you everyday, it gave you the opportunity to meet someone. A someone who made you look at everything in beautiful colors you don't even see before. You view everything so differently now; everything including yourself.
Months have passed since that fateful day and you still can vividly remember how your world shifted from then on like it was just yesterday. You meet Poe with any spare time you have and with every moment you spent with him, you got to know all of the layers of his being and in return, he got to know yours. You felt like you're rediscovering yourself as you open up to him. You felt freer. As time went on, a certain feeling crept up on you. It was a strange but awfully familiar feeling that sits inside your chest, like an everlasting bonfire that warms you up from inside out.
The paperback cover of the notebook crunched as you gripped on it tightly. Your mind is foggy with nervousness and immediately doubting if you've made the right decision to finally show him your poems. You shifted on the same bench you sat the first time that you've met and you waited for Poe, all kinds of imaginary scenarios playing in your head in the meantime.
"Hey, (Y/N)!"
You finally heard his familiar voice, a sound that no music can compare to. He was cheerily waving at you, you waved back and nervously greeted him. You laid peanuts on the bench for Karl and he happily hopped off of Poe's back to get on his treats.
"So, you've finally found your courage, huh?" He said before sitting down on his usual spot beside you. "I'm really proud of you, (Y/N). I know it wasn't easy. This is a big step for you and I want to thank you for choosing me."
Your anxiety dissipated in a snap. The flames on your heart grew bigger and brighter with his encouraging words. This tender moment solified your suspicion; you're absolutely, undoubtedly, sincerely in love with him.
"No, Poe," you replied, "I should be the one thanking you. You're the one who showed me that I have that courage inside me in the first place. I can't even begin to explain how you've changed my life."
"Well, that's what art is for, isn't it? To help us express what our words can't," Poe said, his warm smile never leaving his lips. "Besides, my words wouldn't mean anything if you didn't made the decision yourself. It's all you, (Y/N). Give yourself more credit, won't you?"
You beamed at him, the fluttering feeling on your chest continue to grow and filled every part of your being where you used to feel hollow. Your fears disappeared and you handed him your notebook like you're handing him your heart. Poe reached out for it, handling it as gently as you would a china doll.
You sighed contently and gaze at the clear sky above you as you let Poe flip through the pages of your notebook like you're letting him flip through the pages of your life. Every experience you've went through, every emotions, every secret thoughts and desires and everything that lead up to the person you are now; all of them contained in a single book.
Karl muched on the last peanut you laid out for him as Poe reached the last poem.
Love, what a beautiful thing
It makes my heart flutter
No matter how much I mutter
I always stutter
Those simple words
It races when he’s near
And falls when he’s far
Why can’t I tell him?
Poe's concealed eyes widened and his racing heartbeat vibrated on his whole body. He knows it's an absurd thought to assume the poem is about him but somehow, he was certain that it was. He thought that perhaps it's just wishful thinking brought by his delirious affection he's been hiding from you for a time now.
"You're really promising, (Y/N)," his voice wobbled as he said your name and he cleared his throat as he tried to give you a more constructive feedback. "I can really feel the emotions on your works. Every artist has their own way of making art and you shouldn't feel insecure with how you choose to express yourself. Art isn't about pleasing other people, it's only about you. If you're confident with yourself and your work, other people will reflect that. All you have to do is to stay true to yourself. And as far as I know, you are capable of making more beautiful poems, because you're beautiful."
The distant sounds of people and animals in the busy park rang as the both of you froze on your spots, equally taken aback by Poe's compliment.
"I–I–I mean, you're a great person, that's all," Poe stammered, full of worry for his well-kept secret.
You turned your blushing face away from him and chewed on your lips. Thoughts on whether you should finally admit to him your feelings rushed through your mind. Karl, finished with his snack, climbed on your lap and looked at you as if he's conveying a message. You know that he's probably just asking if you have any more peanuts for him but at that moment, you took it as an encouragement for you to tell him about the nagging feeling inside you that occupies every corner of your mind.
"The last poem," you told Poe while looking at the ground, "I wrote it for you."
Poe once again picked up the notebook, turned it on the last entry and re-read it. He felt like he's being choked out of air as he drowned on the exuberant joy he's feeling as he realized what you meant. His head whipped at your direction, looking at your fidgeting form and felt an urge.
He moved closer to you and gently called out your name. When you turn your head to face him, he reached out and touched your cheek. His finger traced along your jawline and ended on your chin. Although his eyes are barely visible, you can see the solemnity of his gaze and your heart skipped a beat.
"I feel the same way, (Y/N)," Poe confessed as his thumb caressed your lower lip.
You were happy. You were happier than you've ever been in your entire life and yet, your eyes strained as tears threatened to fall. You smiled at Poe and slowly closed your eyes, giving him the permission his gentle touches are asking.
Poe's lips closed in on yours and the rest of the world was quiet as you return his kiss, letting your feelings unravel and tangle against each other. Everything felt right, like every puzzle piece has been put in their place and the picture is complete. You felt the satisfaction, the pleasure, the joy and the pride. You finally understood why there are so many stories, poems, songs and artworks about love. It's just one of those things that can only be truly explained through art. One thing is certain in your head now: love, it is truly such a beautiful thing.
