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marisferasiop · 5 months

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Comfort, Despite the Storm

Ao3 link

Word count: ~4k

Warnings: None. Suck that old man's dick.

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI! Clicking read more implies your consent.

Summary: Joel's neighbor (you) is the town archivist and brings him a present on his birthday (with a side of teasing). Later, after waking from his own nightmares, he finds you sleepless on your porch during a storm and you take comfort in one another.

Just a short little fluffy excuse to suck a tired Joel's dick and ride him, making him accept comfort when he naturally wants to rail against it.

No descriptions, specified age, or use of y/n, reader is afab, Joel calls you "girl" a few times.

“Happy birthday, neighbor,” he hears, and turns to peer back over his shoulder through the screen door.

Joel sees his neighbor, you, standing with an old tin in your hands. He remembers the Shroedinger’s- nature of those tins, always either full of cookies or sewing materials. He realizes belatedly he’s been standing too long, staring, his brain foggy from a night shift on the wall.

He doesn't even know your name, just that your call sign is Cricket. Something to do with your former life as a smuggler, just like him. He’s seen you around, mostly at the mess hall or the Tipsy Bison some evenings. He knows from Ellie that you work in the town’s little archive- slash- library.

“What?”

Your smile falters at the edges but you shake the tin at him anyway. “Ellie told me. Hell of a date to pick, by the way.”

He squints at you through a frown and finally opens the screen door. You thrust the tin at him again, and he takes it automatically. “I didn't pick it,” he says, barely paying attention, staring at the blue, flaking resin coating the cool metal clutched in his hand. He cracks it open and actually feels his mind stutter to a halt.

The tin is full of shortbread. Home-made and carefully tucked in with a scrap of absorbent cotton, the fork tines are slightly uneven down the line of each finger-sized bar. They smell like heaven. Something he hasn't had since half a lifetime ago. The mess hall has desserts, sure. Hell, they’d had pie the first damned day they were in Jackson. But it’s not something he chooses for himself, often. The abundance of food itself, the warm water and electricity and safety are creature comforts enough.

He rations out comfort for himself as a concept- afraid to get too reliant on it.

You interrupt his meandering thoughts by scoffing. “You don't say? I mean, I guess more what I mean is you didn't even lie and say another date? Anything but outbreak day?” you snort and watch him silently take in the small treat you brought over.

“Anyway. I bake, sometimes. When I can't sleep. And the fall storms lately have me wired,” you shrug. “But I’ll leave you be, I can see you just got back. Happy birthday,” you wave again and he snaps his head up.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, watching you already halfway out of his yard and back to your own.

Joel drops the tin on the countertop and lets the screen door snap shut. He draws out a shortbread finger and holds it between his teeth. The lid clanks as he slaps it back on and turns to lean against the counter. It crumbles on his tongue, the sugar and butter dissolving into nothing. Delicious. He savors it, wanting a cup of coffee to complete the picture more than anything else right now.

He knows that the second she gets home, Ellie's gonna eat half of them. For the first time in years, he considers (selfishly) hoarding them away, all for himself.

He doesn't.

He extracts another cookie, replaces the lid, writes DONT EAT THEM ALL on a scrap of paper, leaves it on top of the tin, and shuffles through the house to his bedroom.

Joel wakes up in a cold sweat, ears echoing from a twenty-odd year-old, phantom gunshot. He can still taste the metal on his tongue, the corner of his mouth and half his face torn from the flinch, holding Tommy's shotgun between his knees. He can still feel Sarah's dried blood still flaking on his forearms, caked into his shirt, the hollowness in his gut from crying himself numb.

He rolls to his back, there in the dark of his bedroom, and wills his breathing to even out. He listens, faintly hearing Ellie’s soft, open-mouthed snores across the hall. They ground him back in the present. He’s too wired to go back down so soon, so he rolls up out of bed with a stifled groan as his back and knees creak when he stands.

She leaves her door cracked, sometimes, and he stands in it, watching her sleep, carefree and mouth agape, with his forehead pressed to the door jamb, wishing he didn't have to leave his gun at the armory after a shift. The weight of it would help, he thinks.

He makes himself go downstairs, get a drink. He pours a finger of something amber in a glass and knocks it back.

The weather is pleasantly cool outside on his tacky skin, a fresh storm rolling in across the mountains. He goes out on the porch with the guitar in his fist, something to keep his hands from being idle.

He strums quietly, his left hand flat on the strings to choke it, hyper- aware of Ellie's cracked window above him. He doesn't want to wake her. She sleeps so soundly now- she deserves her rest. He’s protective of that stillness, for her. Even if it sits wrong on his own shoulders, bent from decades of wear and tear.

A light snicks on to his right; your kitchen window illuminating a stripe across the damp yard between your houses. He pauses and stares, watching you in the wide picture window above your sink. You fill a glass, drink it, refill it. You rub your forehead, the back of your neck, scowling out at a low peal of thunder. You don't seem to see him, which is fair. His own lights aren't on, and it’s not a full moon.

Thunder claps a bit louder on the tails of a thin stripe of lightning, streaking across the sky, raising the fine hairs on his forearms. He watches it spider across the dark clouds, blinding purple and white, and fizzle out, without ever touching the ground. You come out onto your own porch and he hears a low growl of irritation as you fiddle with something heavy. It makes his brow furrow- he doesn't think he’s ever heard you frustrated at anything.

The heavy thing drags a few inches, loud in the silence of the night, and he decides to speak up.

“Need a hand, neighbor?”

You gasp and something spills. “Fuck,” you gasp and turn to face him. “Didn't know I had an audience. What’d you say?”

Joel smothers a smirk at your annoyance and speaks up. “I asked if you need a hand?”

A pause. “Oh, uh. Sure? The swing came down in the wind from one of these storms, I guess.”

Joel sets the guitar down and steps over the low picket fence between your yard and his. Your porch swing is sitting on the wood on one side, off its ceiling hook. He squints up at the hook in the dark and sees it broken at the curve of the hook and needs to be replaced.

“‘s broken,” he comments. “I can try and fix it in the morning? Sure we have a hook somewhere in town.”

“Damn. Okay, thanks. You don't have to go to the trouble, though,” you say, dropping to sit on your stairs instead. You pat the space beside you and he hesitates for a long moment before he sits.

“‘s no trouble. Tommy’s farming me out as a handyman anyway. Might as well take the opportunity.”

Joel sits beside you with a soft grunt. He notices the small bottle of something yellowish dangling from your fingers and cocks a brow at it.

“Thunder woke me up. Figure a sip or two will put me back down, if this doesn't quit.” You lift your brows at the roiling, dark purple and black sky and roll your eyes. “Stupid, in this world, hating storms more than anything else. Leftover from the bombings, I think. A shell landed outside my house when they did it.” You offer an answer to the question he was unsure if he could (or would) ask.

Joel just nods and leans back on his palms, taking the bottle when you offer him a swig. He pulls a face and you snort at him. “‘s tequila, kind of. My family made liquor at home, eons ago. ‘Bout the only thing I was taught before everything went to shit. Every now and then I make a batch with my portion of the agave or honey. This one turned out okay,” you swirl the contents. “Storms bother you, too?”

“No,” Joel answers, stony-faced. He sees your eyebrow raise as your face turns away and chews on his lip. “My birthday does.”

“Ah,” you nod. “A lot was lost. Everything, really.” You can't know how accurate the statement is. He just nods and rubs the pad of this thumb over his fingertips.

“Never thought I'd see you in PJ’s, though,” you tweak the soft fabric at the outside of his knee and grin, breaking the moment of gravitas intentionally. “You seem like the jeans- and- commando type, is all.”

Joel frowns at you. “Commando?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “Something’s gotta be chafed, the way you stomp around all grumpy.” You giggle at his look of disbelief and, despite himself, he finds himself huffing a laugh.

“You’re somethin’ else.”

“Yeah, well.” You offer the drink again, and he swills it again. “Wanna come inside?”

Joel pauses on the pull, the glass sticking to his lips. He puts the bottle down and blinks at you. “You serious?”

You shrug. Goosebumps break out across your skin, and, a second later- lightning spiders across the sky. “You’re hot. And it might help us both go back to sleep.”

“You gotta be half my age,” he grunts, letting himself actually look. He takes over your features in the low-light, the hang of your unbound breasts under a thin rail shirt and little sleep shorts.

“I’m not. Just wear it better than you, you scraggly old fart. And I wasn't aware that age prevented attraction. Or orgasms. You can just say no, Joel,” you sigh, standing. “I have perfectly fine fingers.”

He blinks up at you, wheels turning in his head. He grabs your fingertips and pulls you between his knees. “I wasn't sayin’ no. If you’re sure, then I could use some uh- stress relief. It’s been a– a long time.” He forces himself not to think of Tess right now.

“Well then. Inside, and pants off, Miller.”

He huffs and stands with a groan, following you inside to the living room. You have a smaller house than the huge blue one he and Ellie have been allotted. Makes sense, being just you. You lead him to the couch and turn to face him. He can see down a short hall and into your open bedroom. Your bed is unmade, the covers pushed to the side so you could slink out of them after tossing and turning with the incoming storm.

The couch is more impersonal. It says he’s not staying the night. He doesn't want to- can’t anyway, not without alarming Ellie. He can't do that.

“Anything you don't want?” You ask, stepping close enough that your chest brushes his. He blinks down at you and shakes his head. He can't remember a woman ever asking him that.

“What about you?”

“Don’t pin me on my front unless I ask for it. Otherwise, fair game. I wanna suck your dick and ride you, though,” you say, batting your eyes just a little coquettishly, ending with a laugh at his expression. He hisses and grabs you by the hips when you tuck your fingertips under the waistband of his bottoms.

“Jesus, girl.”

“They call me Cricket, actually,” you wink, and tug your top off. Joel tries to keep watching your face, he really does. But your tits are a siren song, and he fails after only a few short minutes. He hasn't seen bare breasts in the flesh in a dog’s age, and he licks his lips with wanting to get his hands and mouth on yours. Instead, he mimics you and pulls his own shirt up and off.

Joel lets you prod him backward to the sofa and even tumbles down onto it obligingly. “God you’re fit,” you admire, and he preens just a little, glancing down at himself. His cock pulses under his cotton pajama pants, but he ignores it in favor of watching you kick off your shorts and climb over him to straddle his lap. You trace his jaw, down his strong neck and wide, heavy pecs, across the spread of his shoulders and down his ribs to his soft belly. It hitches under your fingertips, ticklish. You feel his cock prod up against the curve of your ass and grind backward on it, earning a groan.

“C’mere,” Joel rumbles, hooking a hand behind your neck to tug you down on him. You come easy, pressing all along his front. He pulls you straight to his mouth and you’re surprised at how soft his lips are. The lush give of your breasts against his chest makes him groan into your mouth when you open for him.

As much as he wants to be inside you, to rut to completion like an animal, Joel finds himself wholly taken by everything he’s feeling. He lets his free hand ghost up your spine, pressing you closer, feeling your miles of soft skin all along his overheated front.

“Wanna taste you,” he pants, trying to roll you under his weight. Instead, you pin his shoulder and stroke the tip of your tongue along the roof of his mouth, nipping his lip as you pull away; he chases you as far as he can. “Next time, big guy. I called dibs first.”

“Big guy?” He mutters, helpfully lifting his hips as you shimmy southward to the floor and take his pajama pants with you. His cock springs free, slapping up against his belly and leaving a smear of slick behind.

You curl your hand around him and lever it upright, bringing the weeping tip to your lips to plant a wet kiss there. Joel hisses and watches you, his dark eyes glittering with the lightning strike outside your windows. You drag your tongue up the underside, tasting the clean salt of him, and take him inside, pushing down until your throat starts to protest.

“Ohhhh, fuck, girl. Take it,” Joel groans, flexing his hips into your grip. You smirk around his girth and swallow. It squeezes his cockhead between your tonsils and he drops a hand in your hair. “Almost there, honey. Just a little more,” he urges. You pull off and spread your spit down to the heavy hang of his balls.

“I can do it,” you say proudly, and push yourself down again. It’s a squeeze, but your lips seal around the base, your nose buried in his thatch of wiry curls.

“Oh, shit. That’s it, good girl.”

You groan around him, letting him tip his hips up into you shallowly. One hand slides down your front to circle your clit, spreading the well of wetness dripping down onto your carpet.

“You touchin’ yourself?” Joel asks, his grip tightening a fraction when you hum in the affirmative. “Suckin’ cock gets you goin’ that much?”

You pull off with a wicked swirl up the underside of him that makes his hips twitch. You grin and lean back, showing him your soaked fingers. “Yeah. You gonna blow your load if I sit on this?” You tease, running a finger up the rib along the underside. His cock jolts at the touch, arching toward you and then falling back to his belly.

“I ain't a teenager,” he growls, reaching for you.

“Sure a shit aren't, old man, but touch- starved is touch- starved. I won't hold it against you, long as you help me come somehow.” you crawl up and settle back into Joel’s lap, knotting your fingers in his greying curls and pulling him back into a kiss. He grips your ass, kneading it, trailing his hands everywhere along your skin. He pulls his hips back and lifts you with his thumbs hooked on your hip bones, finding the right angle, and slides inside slowly, letting you feel the stretch of every inch.

On his lap, with the way he’s leaned back, your breasts are perfectly in his face. Joel pulls from your mouth with a smack and buries his nose between your soft swells of flesh, a hand sliding up your spine to pin you closer. He mouthes over one curve and snatches your nipple up between his teeth, worrying it with only a nip of pain before moving to the other side. You arch into his touch, gasping at the coolness of the air on your wet peak. It makes you clench around his cock, causing you both to moan at the snug fit.

You wrap a hand around the back of his head, keeping him close, and start to lift your hips. As his length glides out, every vein and his mushroomed head drags at your walls perfectly. It’s intoxicating, your nerves alight with so much sensation. Already the storm brewing outside is behind you, an afterthought. Joel nearly whines into your sternum and pulls on your hips, urging you back down.

You find a good rhythm and move one hand to the back of the sofa for balance, using it to lever yourself up and down, harder and harder until the sound of slapping flesh and ragged breaths is all you can hear. Joel claims your mouth roughly, groaning into your sealed-together lips when he slides his fingers down and swirls them over your clit. It makes you gasp and clench around him hard, dragging the tight fist of your cunt across his length over and over until he’s ready to explode.

He hasn't been ridden in – fuck, decades? At least, hasn't allowed himself the luxury of a passive fuck in ages. The fact that you're making him take it is– intoxicating. He’s already ready to blow and it’s hardly been any time at all. He wants to savor it.

“Joel,” your sharp tug against his scalp pulls his face up from where he nestled back between your tits. He blinks up at you, brain hazy and dick throbbing in the tight clutch of your core. You give him a breathless smile and push his head back to the sofa backing, kissing a line up his throat and over his scruffy chin to his panting mouth.

He feels like his strings are cut; like you are some sort of witch, using him as thoroughly as you are, and he can't possibly bring himself to mind not being the one calling the shots. His free hand has become loose on your thigh, simply taking the ride you're offering instead of guiding. You drop a kiss on his panting mouth and squeeze your core around him like a vice.

“Just feel it, sugar. Enjoy yourself. I am,” you lean back and ride the ridge of his knuckle, letting it catch your clit as you lift and drop a half dozen more times until your entire body clenches and he feels the first pulses if your orgasm around him and he– splinters.

“Oh–ffffff- off!” He grunts, yanking on your hips. You reach down and grip him, dropping onto the floor again to get your mouth around the tip. He throws his head back and curls his fingers into the sofa to avoid tearing at your hair as you swallow around him, tongue coaxing out his load with urging sucks. He ruts up into your mouth a few more times, jaw clenched and chest seizing as you keep sucking. His cock gives a wea kick in your tongue, drained and oversensitized, before you finally pull away and drop back into your heels, panting like you ran a marathon.

“Damn,” you sigh, spooling out by the sofa, leaning against his sweaty calf. Joel lays there a moment, catching his breath, feeling the nerves still fizzling in his thighs and fingertips and chest. Instead of offering a verbal response, he simply nods.

The thunder rolls again, but you're finally too tired to mind it much. You huff at it, annoyed and start picking up your pajamas from the floor. You toss Joel his pants and wink before disappearing into a bathroom.

He rights his pants, sticking his feet in the stupid loose cotton legs of them and drags them up, ignoring the stickiness and heavy hang of his cock in favor of retreating back to his own house now that you’re done with him. He holds his shirt for a moment, gathering his wits. He doesn't want to put it on and get come all over it.

A second later, you emerge with a damp rag and wipe down his come-streaked belly. “I could just about bite this pretty thing for days,” you comment, pinching his softness with a huff of a laugh out your nose. He frowns at you and glances down at himself.

“What?”

“This,” you run your hand over the soft swell of him again, lingering on the knotted scar on his side, “means you made it. You’re not starving, or on the run, or hurting. You have a warm house, and your little girl, and your brother, and food and rest when you need it. An invite for more sex when you want it,” you wink at him salaciously, and he frowns at you to stifle a snort of laughter. He takes your hand and drops a kiss on your palm before shrugging his shirt back on.

You follow him back to your porch, picking up the discarded, mostly- empty bottle of liquor, and wave when he turns at the fence to say goodnight.

You go back to bed, and sleep soundly through the storm.

Just over two months later, he turns up at the library while you’re documenting the latest Council vote for expanding the farming area another acre west.

You hear the bell jingle and glance up, marking your spot on the record ledger.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet. Joel nods at you and glances around. The records office is always empty, unless someone is there among the shelves to find a book to check out. Today, you’re the only one breathing in the dust.

“I need somethin’ for Ellie. Christmas, I guess,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes. “She likes books. Space stuff, mostly. Got anything she hasn't read yet?”

“I know,” you chuckle and beckon him over. “And yes. I was squirreling this away for her next time she came in, but you can have it.” You produce a battered but complete copy of Savage Starlight Issue 12.

“Oh, shit,” he says, taking the tattered comic. “Don’t think she has this one. She’ll love it.”

You grin up at him and he offers a crooked smile back, tucking the comic carefully away in his jacket.

“I- uh. D’you-”

“If Santa wants to sneak in my chimney after he puts presents under your tree, I'll have coffee and shortbread waiting on him,” you nod sagely, and he can’t help but huff a laugh.

“Sounds like a nice Christmas Eve. Know where I can find a lump of coal in town?”

You gasp and slap his arm, making him actually laugh. “I find you coffee and that's what I get?”

“Best I can do,” he shrugs. You roll your eyes.

“Whatever, Miller. You can show me your best later,” you wink, and he tucks his chin, flushing around the ears like he does when you’re bold in public.

“I better go take a nap, then, hon.”

He steps back as the door jingles again, a few kids piling in to do their homework. You glance at the clock and see that school would have just let out.

“See ya?” He says, as if you hadn't just offered. You nod and he nods back, turning in his heel to flee the scene.

On Christmas, Ellie is delighted with her comic. You give Joel your spare key, and he comes over and shamelessly eats up your shortbread, and drinks all the coffee. Instead of coal, he hangs strong shutters on your windows to temper those stormy nights, and takes you to bed.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #the last of us #reader insert #afab reader #no use of y/n #suck that old man's dick #joel is tired

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year

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nothing more domestic than grocery shopping with hotch 😍 he comes off so disciplined but he’s definitely the type to add stuff to the cart that wasn’t on the list like cookies for the kids. also what type of food do you think hotch likes? I can see him loving Chinese takeout (probably from having it so much when he doesn’t have time to cook). like if reader was gonna make him his favorite meal, what do you think it would be?

sweet additions

AH okay this is just gonna be a lil blurb about shopping together hehe cw; mentions of food, so so so much fluffy banter

you and aaron had been in the grocery store, for maybe fifteen minutes now, and the two of you had definitely set a new personal record for how quickly you had managed to fill the cart.

prior at home, you had created a list of items to allow shopping to run more smoothly. for example, it consisted of aaron's coffee creamer, bread, macaroni and cheese (jack's lifeline), the kids' favorite cereal, and other miscellaneous things- just the everyday necessities your family ran out of fairly quickly.

likewise, it allowed for each trip to be a quick in-and-out, avoiding creating a collection of things you didn't really need. there had been numerous times you had been cleaning out the pantry or fridge, and came across various items that had been merely picked at.

however, and surprisingly so, aaron wasn't as dutiful to the list as you were. he usually referred to it as "a useful guide for suggestions".

you peered into the cart, your eyebrows drawing into a line- your husband's signature expression had without a doubt rubbed off on you after all these years.

"aaron."

"yes darling?" a rush of cold air met you as aaron opened a freezer door, selecting a bag of broccoli, and tossing it in.

with an arch of an eyebrow you reached inside, grabbing a package of dessert cakes and holding it up. "what are these?"

he made play at intently observing the object in question, narrowing his eyes quizzically. "i think they're exactly what you think they are."

"aaron!" you laughed, rolling your eyes teasingly. "we're sticking to the list!"

"then just add it to the list." he said in an amused, nonchalant manner, as if it were that simple. and to be fair, it was, but you'd never pass an opportunity to give him a hard time.

"you can't just add things to the list!" you whined playfully, causing him to laugh. his eyes met yours, a look of adoration within them. "that's why there's a list to begin with."

he exhaled a dramatic sigh, "fine, i may... or may not have promised a certain daughter of ours cupcakes."

you laughed, "oh honey, you're such a pushover."

aaron shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. "she has your eyes, i can't help it."

"softie." you mumbled, poking his side and causing him to jump slightly. one thing very few people knew- aaron hotchner was ticklish.

"i don't want to hear it, i saw you sneak those eggrolls." aaron countered as he leaned down against the handlebar of the shopping cart, a smirk replacing his smile. "are those on the list?"

"they are, actually." you mimicked his expression, and to prove your point, you held out your phone for him to see for himself. "and i got them for you, mr. i-live-off-of-chinese-food. so, i think a thank you is in order, don't you think?"

"ah, my bad." aaron readjusted his posture, allowing him to peck your lips easily. again, his eyes and smile were full of nothing but adoration, like there was no other place in the world he would rather be. "how'd i ever get so lucky?"

"i ask myself the same question every day." you joked, granting him another kiss but prolonging it for a few seconds more this time. "and i love you, you big softie."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotch x reader #hotch imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction

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minisugakoobies · 11 months

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*cackles evilly* Um, I mean- *coughs and smiles*

How about Mr. Bahng with (getting pinned against a wall) and ("God, you’re making me so fucking hard right now.")? Because, you know, you were one of the culprits who sent me down delulu land for him? 😒🧃💕

AJ, my beloved, anything for you! I'm still not sorry about the Chan brainrot 😆 and I can't wait to dig into Spin You soon 💕

Title: Keep It Secret Pairing: Chan x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: M(18+) Genre: Smut, Friends to Lovers Warnings: dirty texts, sneaking around, implied sex

(Apologies for any typos, ya girl is buzzed) The thing about sneaking around behind your friends' backs is - you're supposed to keep it secret.

But as you sit at the restaurant table where your group of friends are toasting to Minho's promotion, you're starting to worry that the others are going to know that you and Chan have been fucking.

Mainly because you can't stop looking at the texts he's been sending all night:

Channie: You look so fucking good tonight

Channie: Did you wear that dress just for me?

You bite your lip, thumbs flying over the screen, hoping the others don't see you. Because if they catch you texting, they'll be all up in your business faster than lightning. Your friends are amazing, but they're also the nosiest fuckers you've ever met.

Which is why you and Chan haven't told them about the hookups. The nights spent in each other's beds. The afternoons on your couches, him as deep inside you as he can possibly get. They'd have too many questions, want to know about labels. Neither of you want to deal with that.

So you try to hide it.

You: Yeah, I did. You like?

Casually, you lean forward, reaching for the bottle of wine Felix graciously bought for the table. But really, you're just letting Chan get an eyeful of your cleavage as he covertly gazes at you from the other side of the table. His blond hair falls gently over his brow as he bows his head over his lap, where his phone must rest.

Channie: Fuck dessert

Channie: Gonna eat you up instead

His last text has you shifting in your seat, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction. Jeongin, sitting next to you, notices.

"You okay there?" he asks, tilting his head with curiosity.

"I'm fine! Just… been a long week. Ready to get out of here and hit the dance floor." That's the plan for the evening - dinner, drinks, and dancing. But you're hoping to find time to fit something else in.

(Or rather, someone.)

The waiter comes around with everyone's desserts. You scoop up a spoonful of Makgeolli ice cream. Everyone's attention is on Minho as he tells a story. Everyone, that is, except Chan, who watches with naked interest as you close your lips around the cold treat, eyes fluttering shut as the sinful sweetness hits your tongue.

The spoon comes out clean, but a drop dribbles down your bottom lip. When you open your eyes, you stare directly at Chan as you lick the errant drop away. Delicious.

Not even a half second later, your phone buzzes in your hand.

Channie: God, you’re making me so fucking hard right now

You can't wait a second longer. Rising, you smooth down your skirt, letting your fingers brush over your thighs, knowing he's looking.

"I'm just going to use the rest room."

It's probably not the smartest idea, with all of your friends here, to do this now. But two minutes later, when there's a knock and another text -

Channie: Let me in, baby

and as soon as you open the door, he pins you to the wall, you realize that even if they figure it out -

It's worth it.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #stray kids imagines #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fanfic #asks #lovely moots #bangtanintotheroom

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dipplinduo · 4 months

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Sweet and Sour Dipplins

Juliana: KiKi! I'm making more of the desserts I learned to make. *blushes* will you be the taste tester?

Pecharunt: Say NO! She's trying to tempt you with more treats!

Kieran: What are you making today?

Juliana, beaming: Apple Pie à la Mode Ice Cream Sandwiches! I had SO much trouble making them in Paldea, but now I finally got them right. Hopefully...

Kieran: Alight. Just one taste will do for testing.

~ten minutes & nine ice cream sandwiches later~

Juliana: KiKi, slow down! You're gonna get another brain freeze!!

Kieran, with another ice cream in his hand: I'll be fine.

Pecharunt, shivering: So... so cold. H-how is this even affecting me?!

Ribombee: *smirks from behind the mixing bowl*

Kieran really boutta sit here and eat anything Juliana touched until he gets sick, huh? 😂

#my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran #dipplinshipping headcanons #toxic chain pokemon #kieran toxic chain #ribombee lore

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abiiors · 5 months

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what do you think ross is like when you’re sleeping together for the very first time? i picture him gentle patient and very sweet

mdni obv

i think it depends on what the context is.

if it's a one night stand or if the attraction he feels for you is purely sexual, it's much rougher and kinkier and definitely more into the hot and heavy territory.

it's a tiny little unknown pub where you first meet. well, meet is not the word for it. he's with friends and so are you. both groups are rowdy and drunk and having the absolute best time on a friday night. drunkenly you reach for the same pool table, about to grab the same cue when one of your friends bumps into you and you bump into him. there's a chorus of sorrys from you until you look at him--the man you'd eyed earlier in the night from the other side of the bar, pouting slightly that he was way too busy with his friends to look around at other people. but he looks at you now and you're suddenly well aware of his hand on your waist that kept you from falling down.

"alright there?"

you nod. his voice is even better than you imagined. and you offer him the cue. "here, it's yours."

he shakes his head and it's interesting how he still hasn't taken his hand off your waist. "i'm sure you reached for it first."

"did i?" it's rather nice that your voice comes out confident and sultry which is barely how you feel on the inside because holy shit! this man is hot.

"a compromise then," you step away and hold the cue up. "play against me..."

"ross," he supplies.

you smile, then introduce yourself.

"play against me, ross."

"and if i said yes? what does the winner get?" he's cheeky. you like that about him instantly.

"whatever the winner wants."

an hour later, as you stumble into the dirty pub bathroom, his tongue electric on your neck and his hands exploring every inch of skin he can, it's pretty evident what the winner's wanted all along.

the slight buzz in your head throws all thoughts of hygiene out the window--all you care about is being bent over this sink; right here, right now.

"need you to fuck me, ross," you moan and feel him smirk against your skin.

"gonna ruin that pretty little cunt."

his words are brazen and vulgar. another thing you like about him. most importantly, they're brazen and vulgar words that he keeps as you'd come to find out minutes later while you grip onto the sink for dear life and his cock split you open.

his hips slamming onto your ass, cold marble biting into your skin, a bathroom full of obscene, wet sounds. it's a heady mix that goes to your head, more than any shot or cocktail or pint ever could.

you swear you can feel him deep inside you, rearranging your guts with every thrust (and rearranging your brain chemistry with every "good girl", "fuck you are so perfect" and "so fucking pretty")

his other hand keeps rubbing your clit in that way that makes you gasp and moan and makes your head spin until you can barely even see straight.

anyway... it's a lovely night turned into an unforgettable one.

---

on the other hand though, if ross is genuinely into you and has feelings for you, he's so much gentler. there's time for kinky, rough sex later, first, he needs to relish the experience of being with you for the first time. it can't just be a five minute quickie... it needs to be good. it needs to be unforgettable.

not like you have complaints, you think being with him in any capacity would be unforgettable. still the night you choose to spend over, he's made dinner entirely by himself and opened a fancy bottle of wine. there's amazing dessert--your favourite chocolate cake from your favourite bakery.

the whole evening is so good that you can't help but give him a sweet little thank you kiss before he's even had the chance to clear the plates away. it's not really a surprise when he deepens the kiss and groans into your mouth. it's not a surprise when you palm him through his jeans and find him hard and ready.

"fuck baby," he moans softly, "could spread you open right here on this dining table."

"then do it."

the glint in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine and heat pooling in your stomach.

"don't want our first time to be in a proper bed?" he laughs but his hands are already under your top, caressing the underside of your boob and intensifying all the flutters in your stomach.

"i didn't say that. think of this as an... appetiser."

and ross couldn't be happier with the idea because moments later you find yourself picked up and laid on the dining table. he looks at you for permission and instantly unbuckles your jeans when you nod. it's almost endearing to see how he suddenly looks shy, how his movements (that were so confident and self-assured before) now have a hint of nervousness in them.

and so you lift your hips up and help him take your jeans off.

"you are so beautiful," he smiles. a genuine, tender smile that melts your heart even when you're about to get eaten out in the middle of his kitchen.

"stop making me blush."

"would you like me to make you scream instead?" he winks.

and then that's exactly what he does <3

#blurb requests #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald smut #the 1975 smut #minors do not interact #ross macdonald blurb #♡: ross blurbs #✉

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thewritetofreespeech · 1 year

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Can you do a Buddy Daddies imagine where Rei has to act like a couple with his crush for a job?

Rei Suwa + Reader - Fake Date

“Your table is right this way. Please follow me.”

“Thank you so much.” Though you beam a smile at the waiter, you also have to practically drag Rei by the arm to get him to follow. Luckily, they were already linked in this ‘lovey dovey couple’ act you had going on.

The job this week was to get information on a corporate billionaire, out to dinner with his mistress. Not an interesting or newsworthy element of the job, as everyone knew he cheated on his wife, but who else he was having dinner with was. 2 chiefs of staff, a liaison diplomat, and the rat that put this all together, each with their on rent-to-own bimbo for the evening; financed by their gracious host in a blatant display of corporate malfeasance.

You had been hired to collect intel on the event and report back to the client. A competitor, or the actual government, you weren’t sure. So long as they paid you didn’t ask questions.

The problem was that this restaurant was too posh and expensive to go to alone without being conspicuous. So you have reached out to Rei and Kazuki for help. Kazuki had been happy to assist, even getting out his trusty spy gear for the cause. But at the last minute he got a nasty cold. Making it impossible to go on the mission as, aside from his raging fever, his coughing would blow your cover immediately.

So Rei, reluctantly, stepped in.

“Can you try not to act like this is the end of the world?” You asked through a gritted smile once the waiter left. “You’re out to dinner with a beautiful woman at a 5-star restaurant. There are worse ways to spend an evening.”

“I’d rather be playing video games.”

You sigh, and put your chin in your hand. Pretending to look dreamily at Rei, while your ring camera was pointed at the target table a few rows over. “I’m sorry I had to drag you out tonight. I’ll make it up to you.”

“The mission is important.” He said. Finally sitting up straight.

The waiter came over with your menus, and you had to pull your camera away from the targets. “Let’s just get drinks and dessert. If we drag it out then it won’t raise alarm, and we can get you home in time for late night streaming.”

“Are you gonna play?”

You look up over your menu at Rei, who was looking up over his menu at you as well, and smirk. “Of course.” You could see him smile, just a hair, behind the ornate leather before he ducked his head back down.

Ordering champagne and oysters, neither of which Rei touched, you continued to monitor the targets casually. “How much intel do you have to get?”

“I don’t know.” He was clearly getting antsy sitting here doing nothing. Rei was a do’er. A triggerman. The nuances of espionage, let alone corporate espionage, were not his forte. “I’ll know it when I see it.” You sip your champagne and pick at the ice on the oyster tray a little more.

Suddenly, one suit leaned into another, and then the second leaned into the big boss and passed him an envelope. “Seen it.” You make sure to take some extra still pictures with the camera hidden in your clutch of the deal for security, then put it away as you turn to Rei with a smile. “Ok. We can go now.”

“Finally.”

Rei called the waiter over and paid for the check before coming over to the other side of the table to help you from your seat. Like a gentleman.

“I’ll pay you back for the meal.” You told him, once you were out of the restaurant and far enough away from any potential eavesdroppers. Certain you weren’t followed. “With these babies I’ll be able to pay you back ten-fold.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You look over at Rei, his shoulder slumped again and hands in his pockets. “Aww…that’s sweet. And here I thought this was just a pretend date.”

“It’s not like I need the money.”

You chuckle at little as you continue to walk. Silent, save for the sound of the cars driving by now & then. “Are you coming over?”

“I thought you wanted me on the stream. I can’t really do that if we’re on the same consol.”

“We can do teams battle instead.”

You grin at Rei and step closer to link your arms again, like you did in the restaurant. “Sounds like my kind of date.”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#rei suwa x reader #rei suwa #buddy daddies imagine #buddy daddies scenarios #buddy daddies #kazuki kurusu #buddy daddies x reader #female reader #rei x reader

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celestial-grls · 1 year

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Sweet Treat / Robin Buckley x fem!reader

summary: blurb based on this post because I couldn’t stop thinking about it, also I 100% believe Robin has a huge sweet tooth and always wants something sweet late at night word count: 1.7k a/n: my first time writing smut and hardly proofread so please be nice ok mwah mwah

You both make it a point to have dinner as much as possible together, but sometimes it just will not work. However, you guys always had dessert together. Even if it was 1 AM and you both had a long night, it felt wrong to skip having dessert together. Due to her notorious sweet tooth, it was mostly Robin’s habit that trickled into your daily routine. She’d finish washing her face but want company down in the kitchen while she ate her ice cream so you’d come down with her. If you guys couldn’t eat dinner together, this was the only time you’d have to ask about one another’s day. Sometimes even when you were eating dinner together, you guys would be too caught up talking about something else entirely that you’d completely forget to ask about each other. Never on purpose, but Robin and you are not immune to gossiping.

Tonight is no different. Robin uses a special ice cream scooper that you got engraved with her initials on it for your first anniversary to scoop heaps of ice cream into her bowl. She even makes you a bowl, taking extra care to pick a good maraschino cherry to garnish yours with. She’s freshly showered, wearing a big t-shirt of yours while her hair dries. She’s walking back and forth from the fridge to the kitchen counter, where you’re sitting, in her white socks that she’s scrunched down. She’s telling you about some snags she hit with the production of a student film.

You’re really trying your best to listen to her, but it’s so difficult when she sounds like that. The worst part is that she’s not even trying. She just has a voice that sounds like smoke. It’s low, and she rasps, and when she’s getting into what she’s talking about it goes high and carries these cracks that make your brain go fuzzy. And her nipples are hard against your old college t-shirt that she’s wearing. And you’ve been thinking of feeling her wrapped around you since you left for work in the morning and she was still sleeping, her hair on your pillow.

Robin’s telling you between bites of ice cream, “...it’s not like I haven’t tried to compromise with them. I don’t know. What do you think, baby?”

You haven’t been paying attention. You’ve been absentmindedly eating your ice cream, just listening to the sound of her voice and not the actual words. There’s no way to even pretend like that wasn’t the case, because Robin can tell when she looks at you.

“I’m sorry, Rob. Okay? I wasn’t listening, baby. I’m sorry. But it’s your fault. It’s your stupid voice.” You’re pouting slightly, and Robin knows what you mean when you call her voice stupid.

Robin moves from where she was leaning against the kitchen sink to step closer to you and stand between your legs as you sit on the counter. She’s taken both your now empty bowls of ice cream and moved them aside, placing cold fingertips on the inside of your knee. “My voice?” Robin’s asking, just so she can hear you elaborate.

“Yeah. I wish you sounded like Kermit or something so I wouldn’t want to jump your bones every time you open your mouth.” You’re mostly kidding, settling your hands at the nape of her neck and feeling her damp hair on your fingers. Then Robin starts to laugh.

“God, don’t laugh! That’s even worse than when you talk. I hate what it does to me.” You’re doing a horrible job at scolding her. Because whatever blood flow was rushing to your brain has since abandoned your brain and moved elsewhere.

“Aww, it’s okay Y/N. But really, what are we gonna do about this?” She’s evil. She’s torturing you, and worst of all, she’s enjoying it. She’s tracing little shapes on your inner thighs now and rubbing her nose against the column of your throat, just staying there. Her head is right under your nose, you can smell her shampoo and you’re losing more of the little grip you had on reality before.

You duck your head under to kiss her earlobe. “I don’t know. I’d have to fuck you with earplugs on, I guess.”

Robin is so vocal, she always has been. You can hear all her little sighs and feel her lips curling up into a smile against your throat. She starts nipping at your collarbone and kneading her hands against your hips. Once she feels you shiver she stops and you immediately whine a little, missing her teeth on you. She looks at you and says, “But you love my voice too much to do that.” You’re so needy, and you’ve had enough of her teasing. So you finally kiss her, licking into her mouth. She tastes like the ice cream you both just ate and you can’t stop. She rakes her hands up your t-shirt, brushing a thumb across your nipple. You feel all the air move out of your lungs. But it’s still not enough, you want more. You’re desperately moving as close to Robin as possible, ass right at the edge of the kitchen counter. Robin’s the first to pull away and catch her breath. With her face a little flushed, you already miss the warmth of her cheeckbone against your skin. She pulls one of her hands away from your breast to brush her thumb against the pillow of your bottom lip. “Can you open for me, baby?”

You love putting her fingers in your mouth, you love it even more when she’s asking you to. You obediently suck on her fingers. She’s almost cooing at you, she even starts brushing your hair away from your face. “There you go. Y’look so pretty.”

When she says stuff like that it makes you wet instantly. You can feel yourself dampening, almost embarrassed about the effect she has on you. You pull your mouth off her fingers to say, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. And you’re in my t-shirt. Seriously baby, what’s your problem?” You whine at Robin because she hasn’t touched you where you want yet.

She does this exaggerated gasp that only makes you wetter. This woman has a death wish against you. “Lucky for you, I like it when you’re a little mean,” She inches her hands just a little higher, hooking her fingers inside your panties but still not touching your clit. It’s the slowest few seconds ever until she finally palms at your center. “What are you so wet for, hm?” Robin asks as if she doesn’t know the answer.

You’re touching her wherever you can but it still doesn’t feel like enough. Your knees are hitched up right where her hips are, and you’re squeezing the curve of her ass to try and get her as close as she can possibly get to you. You sigh against her, “Don’t make me say it…”

“Please?” She has the most devilish look in her eye when she adds the next part, “For me?” Then she dips her fingers in your panties and starts rubbing circles into your clit. It feels so good you start rolling your eyes back.

“I hate you,” You tell her while sloppily kissing the flat of her forehead.

She’s sucking little love bites into the side of your neck. She is filled with cockiness as she says, “No, you don’t.” She easily dips her fingers inside of you. You gasp against the feeling of your cunt being filled by her fingers.

“Baby, give me your fingers,” You’re requesting for her fingers back in your mouth, needing something to suck on while you ride her fingers against the kitchen counter. This is so dirty, you both know it. But you both are too horny to care, as she keeps pumping her fingers in and out of you. You can feel her nipples rub against yours, losing your mind at the friction. Robin brings her thumb to your clit, rubbing circles into it torturously slow. You’re moaning around her fingers in your mouth and keeping your eyes glued to her, counting all the freckles between her eyes.

“You sound so good. You’re doing good, baby.”

“Think, fuck, think I need those earplugs,” You tell her because if she keeps talking to you like this you’ll combust.

Since Robin loves to watch you squirm, she brings her lips right up against your ear and whispers, “Should I be quiet? Would you like that better?”

The little puffs of air against your ear, Robin’s hair grazing the side of your face, the way her eyes keep opening a little wider and wider to look at you, having her like this still isn’t something you’re used to. When she hits that spot inside you that makes you squirm, you take a second to recalibrate yourself before saying to her, “You’re so cocky tonight, how come?”

Robin makes a good effort to pretend to think while she just takes you closer and closer to the edge, all your senses blurring more and more the longer she goes on for. She keeps chasing the same spot above your breast with big kisses, sweetly reminding you that she can be both doting and drive you insane.

Ultimately, she is too eager of a lover to truly be a tease. “Not cocky, just know who I have,” she starts rubbing circles into your clit a little faster, making you arch into her, hard nipples right against Robin. You’re falling a part quickly, Robin is pulling out little whimpers from short sighs, all you want is for her to keep talking you through it. “She’s pretty great, but she’s always saying she hates me,” Robin fake pouts at you.

You’re clench as she fingers you deeper. With a maon you tell her, “Fuck, I don’t-don’t think she hates you right now.”

Robin smirks, her lips pulling up in the corners and attaching themselves to your collarbone, her final move to drive you insane and right to the edge. “Stay right there, you’re almost there,” It’s only a matter of moments until Robin speeds up and brings you over the edge. That clenching in your stomach releases and you let out one more moan right against the shell of Robin’s ear, carding your fingers through her still-damp hair.

“God, fuck,” You’re still catching your breath, missing Robin’s fingers in you already. You look at her with that dazed and moony-eyed expression you get after she makes you come.

Robin’s already smiling and looking too pleased with herself. After a little pause she says, “Still need those earplugs?”

With equal parts adoration and annoyance you tell her, “You’re insufferable,”

#my writing #robin fanfic #robin headcanon #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin stranger things #robin buckley blurb #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley smut #robin buckley drabble

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arden-au · 2 years

Text

── that feeling when

enhypen x gn!reader | fluff

a/n: inspired by their newest song tfw (that feeling when), it's a cute song so this came out of listening to it and reading the english lyrics. basically just sweet or cute moments with enhypen! this is also my 100 followers celebration post! tysm for the support even after i switched blogs, i'm forever grateful for everyone. anyways hope you enjoy as always, and more under the cut ♡

heeseung

heeseung hands you a cold can of soda, plopping beside you and the fan you've settled near. it's really hot out and the two of you have taken refuge near the cold wind from the fan. he wipes the beads of sweat from his forehead as he leans on your own head. the soft buzz from the cicadas can be heard as you both enjoy the clear skies from your bedroom window. you take a sip of your drink while fanning yourself in an attempt to cool down. "you know what would help us cool off?" he starts, your eyes meeting his own as he speaks. you raise your brow in confusion, wondering what could be going through his head. "don't look at me like that, I was just gonna suggest making shaved ice desserts" he suggests, mirroring your furrowed brow. you blush immediately and his words and shake your furiously before shoving him away playfully. "w-whatever let's just go make something cold to eat" you stutter, your playful boyfriend following after you with a chuckle. he reaches for your arm, pulling you back to him to press a quick to your forehead, just so he can see your embarrassed face and redden cheeks. (but you didn't hear that from me)

jay

you're studying in the living room, humming to yourself as you go over your notes for what feels like the 3rd time that hour. you're sitting on the rug in front of the couch, your headphones quietly playing your study playlists. jay was sleeping in the bedroom, recovering from working late from the night before. as much as you wanted to continue sleeping beside him, tests we're coming up and just wanted to get over studying for the rest of the day and without bothering him. at least that's what you thought, your normally heavy sleeper of a boyfriend stood near the arm of the couch, his eye mask messily resting on his forehead and his hand scratching the back of his neck. you met his tired eyes, unable to figure out what he was thinking. "sorry jay, i don't i was being too loud but i'll keep it down" you apologize quickly, which is met with a quick shake of his head. "just wanted to be near you" he mumbles, taking his spot on the couch and laying down. his hand rests on your shoulder and he presses a quick kiss to your forehead before getting comfortable and closing his eyes. you blush, silently continuing your studying but leaning your head on his hand gently. yeah, i guess you wanted him to be near you too.

jake

"hurry jake!" you tug jake by his arms towards the carnival entrance, already excited to go on the corny rides and enjoy the food. he wears a bright smile mirroring yours, just as excited as you to finally go on this type of dates. it was a cool summer day, wind dancing with you as you make it to the viking coaster while swinging your linked hands together. your smiles don't waver the entire day, infectious laughter following suit. you swear you've gone on all the rides at this point so you finally you pull him away for a break; jake leans against a tree on edge of carnival lot with you leaning against him. a frozen drink in your hand, a soft happy sigh leaving your lips. the evening brings a warm sunset to greet you both, jake wrapping his arms around your torso and resting his head on your shoulder blade. you both are silent as listen to the carnival music and chatter of the others, quietly enjoying the feeling of being close to one another.

sunghoon

"sunghoon stop it!" you laugh, returning the water being splashed at your by your boyfriend who's also sharing your laughter. it's the summertime, and the two of you are cooling off in the water at the beach. he said would play nice during the car ride, but clearly wasn't by how soaked you were without even diving into the water. you attempt to get away from him, spotting your beach towels and the bright red umbrella where your items stayed. "where do you think you're going?" he asks with a smug grin, tackling you and falling into the water with you. he holds you close as you both come back for air, arms looping around your waist loosely. you glare at him playfully, though mirroring his bright smile as you cups his cheeks for a quick kiss. which leads to another, and another... till you exact your revenge by splashing his face. though you finally settle it when he buys you mango shaved ice from the food stalls, a hopeful holding the icy treat with his lips puckered playfully. you roll your eyes, peck his lips a few times before tugging him towards a place to sit.

sunoo

"sunoo stop taking photos and hurry up" you whine as you turn around to your boyfriend no longer right beside you but at the crosswalk, sunoo looking at you apologetically before catching up with you. he smiles to himself at the photos he took of you, already thinking of which one to make his new wallpaper and the one he'd print onto a polaroid to add to the others in his album. he just really enjoyed taking photos, especially ones of you that just took a snapshot of what he was so lucky to see on a daily basis. you always rant to him about how he should stick to taking selfies, which he rolls his eyes at. "i'm your number one fan (y/n) so i'm just making sure you know how beautiful you look" he replies nonchalantly, showing you one of the many photos he was already favouriting. totally doesn't skip over the videos he has of you snoring, i don't know what you're talking about.

jungwon

jungwon watches as you get excited as you near the arcade, holding his hand a bit tighter as you finally stand in front of the neon lights signaling the entrance. he swears the same look doesn't leave your face as go around to see what games and prizes were to be won at the price counter. "jungwon we have to win that" you point eagerly at the plush penguin with a bowtie. he laughs as he follows you around, celebrating each win with small pecks to your lips. it did take a few tries, but the both of you finally manage to get the said plush. you happily pose with it for a photo with him, your smile making his heart swell. he pats you on the head, "so lets get some ice cream?" he suggested, already following after your figure in what he assumed was the direction of the ice cream shop. he let out a laugh, watching you dance on the empty streets with your plushie as your dance partner. the light illuminating your path and jungwon's just admiring you for a bit. 'yeah, this feeling was nice' he thought to himself, before jogging ahead to catch up with you.

niki

you're on the rooftop of your highschool, enjoying the soft wind and the spring weather. you're laying in his lap while niki reads the latest manga he's gotten from the store the day before, while snacking on gummy bears as you both enjoy each other's presence. you feel goosebumps form on your arms, the strong breeze tickling your skin as you gaze upwards at the sky. you poke his thigh a few times, niki already hovering a few of the candies near your mouth. you snack on them happily as he doesn't spare a glance, only moving his eyes away from his manga when you comment on the cat shaped cloud moving through the sky. though he doesn't look upwards, but towards your innocent face and your sparkling eyes. he smiles warmly, leaning down to kiss your forehead before humming in response to your words. he feels at peace when he enjoys his afternoons with you.

taglist [open!]: @hell1cy @wtfhyuck @wonielvr likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen timestamps #enhypen x gn reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #jungwon x reader #sunoo x reader #niki x reader #enhypen soft hours

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sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 8.8k

A/N: Here it is, folks. The one you've all been waiting for. Enjoy. <3

I might have been a tiny wee bit self indulgent at one point in particular. Bet you can't tell where.

You frown as you swipe to answer the call from Scott. "Who died?"

"Woooow," a very familiar sarcastic response rings through your ear. "Can't a friend just call up another in this day and age?" You let the silence linger just long enough for him to then add, "Yeah, I'm chatting shit. No, I was going to ask, are you running late?"

You frown, "No, I'm not long about to close up now. Why'd you ask?"

"Well, Ralph texted me." He puts on a voice, the way you all do when talking about your flatmate. "Good afternoon, Scott. I hope you have been keeping well, and that the snow hasn't interrupted your daily life. I would like to request your assistance, I am aware that we have been tasked with making dessert for the Pal Valentine's Day meal later, but unfortunately I have noticed that we are severely lacking in eggs. I was simply wondering if, by chance you could bring some up to the flat? I would be most grateful, and willing to more than compensate you financially! Regards, Ralph."

You groan, "I asked him to get eggs this morning, he didn't want to because there were kids throwing snowballs and he was scared he'd get caught up in it. I told him to suck it up, because they can smell fear, but he's clearly too chicken-shit to go out there."

"Aww, he's never even had a snowball fight before? What even was his childhood?!" You rasp, hoping to quickly evade that topic. "Oh my god, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You grin, “I think I am. You wanna rally the troops?”

“On it.”

You look up from your phone, still giggling, to see two of your sales assistants watching you, looking at each other and waggling their eyebrows at each other. You shake your head, “At this point, you’re well beyond barking up the wrong tree! My friend Scott and I are planning something,” you flash your eyes mischievously, and they tut back at you.

“Well, at this point, it’s not like we were expecting you to have some hot date on the other end of the line, is it?” One of them jokes, nudging the other as they run off and busy themselves at the other end of the store, still cackling.

“You two are lucky you’re my favourites!” You shout after them with a laugh. “Can I trust you to close up tonight?”

“Nah, we’re gonna loot the place,” one answers with a false sincerity.

“You poor sods won’t find much here,” you point out. “But thank you, you’re the best!” You singsong as you head past them to the back room.

“Then pay us more!” Another jokes.

“If I had control over who earns what, d’you not think I’d have done that by now? You wound me,” you dramatically push your hand to your chest as you walk backwards through the door out of the main shop floor. Once you’ve collected all your belongings, and put on all your layers, it’s pretty much time to close anyway. You salute your colleagues with a, “Godspeed getting home tonight,” and brave the cold.

Since the roads hadn’t been salted by the time you needed to get to work, you’d walked there, and while you would much rather be sitting in a heated car than feeling your cheekbones freeze over, it’s quite nice to walk through the streets of Croydon, watching the thick snow fall with the slightest bit of sun still peeking through. A gentle little reminder that longer, warmer days are just around the corner, and that winter’s soon at an end.

You’re greeted in front of your tower block by all your friends, all with varying expressions. Scott and Connor are eagerly plotting, Anna still looks a little unsure, and Grace just looks like she’s fed up of the cold. “So, what’s the plan, who’s getting him to come downstairs?” you ask once you’re with them.

“That’s what we were just deciding,” Scott replies.

“My suggestion was that Anna would be the least suspicious, but she wants no part of this,” Connor pulls a face and Anna slaps his arm.

“Shut up! I still think it’s mean,” she frowns, and you hold her arm comfortingly.

“Listen, who’d you rather be the first people to engage Ralph in any kind of snow fight, us or those little pricks up there?” You jerk your head over to where a group of middle school-age boys are playing around together.

She sighs, “Fine, but I’m aiming for his feet, okay?”

“Aw, but it’s fifty points if you hit his face,” Scott teases.

“Okay, okay, before Grace gets hypothermia, let’s just get this over and done with, shall we?” You ask, and Grace nods from somewhere beneath her fluffy hood. “Scott, he asked you to pick up those eggs, didn’t he? Just make up some guff about how they’ve locked the front doors so he needs to come push the button to let you in.”

Scott nods, texts something, and within a few minutes pumps his fist with excitement. “Okay, he says he’ll do it! I told him to wrap up and let me know when he’s on his way down.”

“Tell him you’ve had to step away from the doors so it doesn’t look like you’re loitering,” Connor adds, “so he can’t just run back.”

“Okay, this does feel a little mean, now,” you admit, and Anna looks at you incredulously.

“No, no, you don’t get to back out now! Not after all that talking me round!”

“Yeah, c’mon, you two have been smooth sailing for ages now, surely there’s something that you can only get off your chest by a one-time snowball pelting?” Scott asks, and you think for a moment.

“He did watch the rest of that new show we were watching without me and then spoiled the ending,” you ponder.

“Jail.” Grace pulls her hood back momentarily to stare at you with wide, serious eyes.

You nod, “Yeah. Or a snowball to the shoulder. Both are the same punishment, I think.”

“Totally,” Connor sneers, and you and Grace both flip him off - or you assume that’s why she’s holding the back of her hand up to him, it’s hard to tell with her wearing mittens, but it does put everyone into a heap of laughter.

Connor’s phone beeps, and he gasps as he looks at his screen. “Alright, gang, he’s on his way down! Lock and load.”

You all get into position, snowballs in gloved hands, as you watch Ralph push the door open with ease, walk through it and look back with a frown. He tentatively moves forward one cautious step at a time, his big baby-cow eyes darting around all the while. You all hide a little further back each time until he’s inevitably in line with you all. He looks at Scott first, then his hand, then around at all of you. “Oh, fiddlesticks,” he whispers.

“This is for your own good, mate,” Connor grimaces as you all throw your missiles at him. With a half-scream, half-squawk sound, Ralph tensely curls himself up in self-defence, holding that position long after he’s been hit. “See, mate, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And that was all of us!”

“I thought you were all my friends,” he glares indignantly at you all, and you nod.

“Yeah, which is why we did it knowing you wouldn’t get hurt,” you point out. “You’re alright now, aren’t you?” He nods tentatively. “See? And the best bit, is now it’s your turn, and you get pick of the lot as to who you hit first.”

“Just hit me first, if you like, I won’t mind, and I won’t hit you again, either,” Anna shrugs, but Ralph studies all of you.

“Who’s idea was this?” He eventually asks Anna, who quickly points to you and Scott.

“Wooooow,” Scott shakes his head, but Anna simply flips him off.

Ralph bends down, eyes still flitting between all of you, as he grabs two handfuls of snow and immediately flings them both at the two of you. While you get a tiny little lump that just grazes your chest, at least he landed it with Scott, as that one flew out of his grip and straight into Scott’s mouth. A laugh bubbles out of Ralph’s lips and you all grin back at him.

“Okay, that was good, but a good snowball is two handfuls, smushed together into, yeah, that’s it, just like- ack!” Connor is silenced and humbled by Ralph throwing his third and far bigger snowball, straight into his stomach. “Prick,” he laughs as he scoops another one up to toss at Ralph again, who manages to evade it this time. “Mine was way bigger than theirs!” He makes another, adding, “Although, while I’m here, if you’re not retaliating…” Before extending himself to standing and throwing one at Anna with an almost evil cackle.

Anna gasps, “Only not to Ralph, asshole!” And throws one back at him with a giggle.

Before long, you’re all running around, including Ralph, throwing snowballs at each other and laughing like you were kids again. You’d never had thought, at your big age, that this is how you’d be spending a snowy day, but it brings back good memories of you and your four oldest friends, knocking at each other’s doors after the local news had announced that your school was closed, taking old bin lids up the steepest hills you could climb to slide down again. You look over at Ralph, with the apples of his cheeks glowing as red as his ears and the tip of his nose from all the cold, his whole face lit up as he catapults snowballs in the strangest fashion, and wonder what snow days must have been like for him. Obviously, he wasn’t sledding down hills on bin lids, but you’d have thought he and Victoria and their friends would have had friendly snowball fights. Though, you remember, from what you’ve learned of Victoria and her friends, perhaps those weren’t so friendly when aimed at Ralph.

Your thoughts are interrupted when another snowball hits Ralph, though not from any direction that any of you are standing. You all look over to the gang of young boys, snickering at each other for having landed one on “one of the oldies”, especially commending the offender for “getting the posh one”.

Though rage boils through all of you, it’s Grace, already warmed up from running around, who pushes her hood back to give them all a death stare and tell them, “You’ll regret that.”

As though called to arms, the five of you form a protective wall in front of Ralph and start hurling snowballs at the group of pre-teens at top speed until one of them yells, “Alright, alright, truce! Mercy! Whatever word gets you to stop!”

Just as you all stop, one more snowball flies up above all of you. Over your heads, down, down, and lands perfectly on top of the head of the kid that the others were praising for hitting Ralph. All your friends spin around on the spot so that all of you, as well as the boys, could stare in disbelief at Ralph, who has a small but very proud smile on his face. “Oi, that was sick!” One of the boys yells out. You mouth to Ralph that that’s a good thing as the other boys start laughing and cheering for him, too.

“Okay, alright, we’ve all had our fun,” you start holding your hands up in the air, “but this isn’t getting Palentine’s dinner ready, is it?”

“Isn’t it Valentine’s? That’s tomorrow, innit?” One of the boys answers.

“Nah, isn’t Pal-a-tine the wrinkly geezer from Star Wars?” Another asks.

“I thought it was that place that’s always fighting with Israel,” another comments.

“Maybe pay more attention to your teachers, yeah?” You ask them with a slight nod. You turn to the others. “Still meeting at Anna’s?” You ask, and they all non-verbally confirm. “Cool, see you guys in a bit. Ralphie!” You shout for him and he springs to attention, practically jumping to stand next to you. You smirk, “Ready to go get those eggs I asked for this morning?” He nods sadly and you nudge him towards the row of shops.

As you walk away, Ralph mutters, “I know I’m not supposed to interfere with knowledge about those world wars, but have there really already been ones in space, too?”

Had the snowball incident not already happened, you’d have absolutely messed with Ralph by convincing him that Star Wars were actual battles that took place in outer space. However, enough guilt consumes you that you correct him by trying to explain the entire movie franchise to him as you buy the eggs you need. Though he listens intently and nods attentively, you can tell from the vacant look in his eyes that nothing’s really going in, but at least he’s trying.

Baking with Ralph sounds like a nightmare, but he’s a diligent little helper when he’s trying. He measures your ingredients for you and he’s quick to wash up your equipment once you’re done with it. You’d only planned to go for the safe option of a simple sponge cake, predicting disaster, but the speed at which you’re all done leaves you pleasantly surprised. You’re even able to snap a little photo for Ralph’s instagram without him noticing. Once you’re all dolled up, he suggests you both take one to “show” his instagram and twitter accounts, but you opt to keep that one for just the camera roll. You’ve not seen or heard any speculation about your potential love life revolving around Ralph, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Once you finally get to Anna’s, after explaining that the boys outside of your flats had since decided to gather all the snow in the street to make one giant snowball, and had recruited you and Ralph to roll it when it got too big for them to, until you two couldn’t either. “Perfectly understandable reason,” Connor nods in understanding, and the others agree.

Once all the food is laid out, you’re glad that you all a) worked up an appetite and b) ended up pushing dinner back on top of that, because everybody preparing separate dishes has definitely overestimated what six portions of each part should be. Regardless, it’s another night of eating food, chatting away and ending with dancing around Anna’s living room, much like Ralph’s second night with you.

Another morning of February 14th, another empty bed to wake up in. You sit up, stretching out your arms, and grab your phone to look through the folder in your phone labelled “shitty mspaint valentines” to send to your friends and some of your coworkers, to make them laugh. You’re met with some laughing reactions, some rebuttals and a couple of reactions that you can tell were written with a sarcastic eye roll, which only spurs you on more.

You also post a photo you took yesterday to Ralph’s instagram, to keep his brand alive:

You’re about to drag yourself out of bed when the door opens to reveal Ralph, holding out a tray with two plates piled with waffles, two glasses of fruit juice and two mugs of tea. You watch him carefully set it at the foot of the bed and then sit next to you with your lower lip out in an affectionate pout. “Aww, Ralphie, what’s all this about?”

“Well, usually tradition would have it that Father and I would take Mother and Victoria breakfast in bed on St Valentine’s Day morning, as a tradition, and so Victoria insisted that tradition still be upheld even after our parents… Well, let’s not already put a dampener on the day before it starts! You’ll have to forgive the absence of flowers, I used to have the luxury of picking them out of the garden, but none of the plants in the flat are flowering, and it would be criminal of me to steal from others’ gardens, and all the florists were specifically selling bundles that were far too big for such a gesture, an-”

“Deep breath,” you coach him as you put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s sweet that you still wanted to uphold your little tradition. You know, my dad used to leave me and Mum Valentine’s cards on the doormat, each from “a secret admirer”, though it used to terrify me at first because I didn’t realise it was him!” You pull a face as you take a bite out of a waffle, and Ralph laughs softly. “’Course, after a while, it’d get a bit embarrassing having your dad be your Valentine, but hey, it was one more than I’ve been getting these past few years!” You finish your mouthful and wave the rest of the waffle at him. “These are pushing the boat out for you! Get you!”

“Yes, my dear American friend recommended them to me! And I managed to successfully cook them in the toaster oven!” Ralph chimes gleefully.

“Look at you go!” You beam proudly. “Soon enough, you won’t even need me!”

“Oh, don’t be preposterous,” he mutters under his breath just before taking a big sip of his tea. “Any plans for the day?”

“You mean, other than beating the hoards of men waiting for me outside that door with a stick?” You joke, and Ralph chuckles lightly. You shake your head. “Might just do another self-care day. Be my own Valentine, as if things weren’t sad enough!”

“Well, perhaps I could join you, and we would be our own ones together,” Ralph offers. He awaits your reaction with bated breath. If that goes well, perhaps he could segue into asking you to be his actual Valentine, and that would be at least one more step above simply being housemates, over being bedmates, even.

You take a deep breath in. Maybe you could ask Ralph if he’s willing to take it the slightest step further and be each other’s Valentines. It’s just an arbitrary title, really, but at least you’d have one this year. And, whenever Ralph finally leaves, at least you can remember him as more than just your flatmate who you platonically shared a bed with. Wistfully reminiscing over a Valentine does sound more romantic.

But, you have to respect his boundaries. If he felt comfortable enough to make you breakfast in bed, he would have accompanied it with a request for you to be his, but he didn’t. He’s offering to be his own Valentine, parallel to you. Message received. “That’d be nice!” You put all your effort into trying not to sound disappointed.

It works, as Ralph reads your reaction as being very happy with that idea, and he daren’t tread over that line. “Very well. So, what does being your own Valentine mean?”

“For me? Junk food, junk TV, and in this weather, wearing at least two blankets at all times,” you count off on your fingers, making Ralph laugh. “Though I better head out and get you some of your favourites, too.”

He frowns, “There’s no need, you’ll catch your death of cold out there!”

“I mean, obviously I’d get dressed first,” you pull a face. “But yeah, you deserve to get spoiled a little, too. I mean, you did all this for me,” you gesture to the tray, but Ralph rasps flippantly. “Plus,” you add with a smirk, “don’t want you hoarding all my favourite snacks.”

“There it is!” Ralph grins, pointing a finger to you and leaning in so it hovers close to your nose, making you laugh.

“You caught me!” You hold your hands up in mock guilt. “I’ll head out in a bit, okay?”

Once breakfast is over, and you’ve washed up after you both despite Ralph insisting he would do it and trying to get in - which resulted in some rather creative ways of blocking him out of the kitchen - you get dressed ready to brave yet another cold front.

You know what Ralph’s most favourite sweets are. Jelly Babies. But the ones he loves the most aren't the kind you can get from any shop - of course not, that would be too easy, and this is Ralph. No, his favourites come from an old fashioned sweet shop that lives on the same street as the shop he works in. You remember its location vividly. as you'd made a point to think about memorising it and nothing else the day you'd dropped off a treat to Ralph while at work and seen his latest idea in action - an immersive display where he dresses up to fit in with it too. But you'd firmly blocked that mental image out of your head. Of him surrounded by Wild West imagery while wearing a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt and very well-fitting jeans. You definitely hadn’t focused on that at all.

The trek to the old high street is a long one, especially since the snow that wasn’t quite gritted over had formed a barrier of sludge along the roadside that was creeping into the remnants of yesterday’s clean, soft, crunchy snowfall. You make the most of the childlike wonder that comes from stomping through it while you can, before it inevitably ices over into a deathly lumpy terrain.

You spot someone ahead hobbling through the snow, walking in your direction. You watch them carefully, unsure whether to try and help, casually walk past or actively avoid them, when an unmistakably pungent aroma precedes them. You study them a little closer and shout in recognition, “Homeless Pete!”

The man looks up and grunts at you. “How‘ve you been? Not seen you in ages!” He shrugs. Heart sinking, you note, “You were walking with quite a purpose there. Headed anywhere in particular?” Your fears are confirmed when he points over to the block of flats Ralph showed you that he’d emerged from almost half a year ago. “Oh… Today? It’s working?!” You ask, feeling your heart hurl through the ground. He nods, then gestures to you and flashes you a hopeful look. “What?! No! Not me! No, d’you remember, you brought a guy back with you from the 20s? Well, not these 20s, the nineteen-twenties.”

He looks blankly at you. You groan, “Please don’t tell me you’re some kind of past Pete who doesn’t know about Ralph, I don’t need a migraine today.” The name seems to resonate with Pete, which is promising. “Yes! Ralph! You remember! He was all dressed up like he was in the army! And he ended up coming back with you! And then he ended up with me! S’pose I better… Could you hold off on using it until I can get him there, too?” Your words hang heavy with sadness, but you knew this day was coming.

Pete stands there in silence for a moment, thinking. He traces the air from time to time, then claps his hands, making you jump. He mimes scratching at a beard along his own stubble-covered jaw. “You mean, you’ve seen Ralph with a beard now?” He nods, pointing downwards in front of himself. “You’ve spoken to him?” Another nod. Pete looks up at the tower block, then at you, gestures with two hands towards the building, then makes an X shape with his arms, waving them down.

“Please just fucking speak, mate.” You sigh, but he just repeats his actions. As you look lost again, he holds his two hands out again, but stops, looking at you in waiting. “So, that’s you and Ralph?” You guess, and he nods. He moves his hands up towards the building. “You and Ralph went to the place with the… Time machine.” Saying it out loud still sounds insane, even after all this time. He holds one hand close to him, and waves the other one out at you. “Is that one meant to be him?” Another nods, and then the crossed-arms gesture. You frown. “Ralph… Didn’t go in with you?” He shakes his head. “Why not?” He shrugs.

The sorrow and confusion you’ve been feeling this whole conversation start to curdle into all kinds of other feelings. There’s still some confusion there, but mostly it’s anger, frustration, disbelief. He knew how cautious you were about this day finally arriving. He knew of all the countless sleepless nights you’d spent trying to figure out things like how to hide him from your landlord, what to do if he ever falls ill. He knew that every time you picked up your post, you feared a letter from the government with big red letters asking to confirm the identity of the man who’s been claiming to live there despite not being legally registered to. He knows that you’ve been up until all hours some nights searching desperately for some kind of explanation for this phenomenon, since it can’t just be something that only Homeless Pete knows about.

Things had been going so well, especially since Christmas. You’d made peace with the fact that the clock was very much ticking with how long you’d have left with Ralph, and especially after Brighton, you had been telling yourself over and over to not sweat the small stuff, and to just enjoy having him around. You’d figured that with your feelings for him growing stronger the more that he’s around, it’s better for everyone if, instead of constantly counteracting them with the negatives, you’d just let yourself get over him quietly.

Maybe you should have been more forceful. Created more boundaries. Made it more obvious that he can’t just cheat his own fate, who knows what kind of damage he’s done to… Literally the entire universe, anything could be possible! You’d thought you’d always made it so clear to Ralph to always be preparing for the day he goes back. That no matter how great the life is he’s made for himself here, at the end of the day, all this is, is a learning experience for him to take this level of confidence back with him to his own time.

Forgoing the sweet shop, and any other shop for that matter, you make a beeline home, your steps far more deliberate and angry than the gentle march you had been taking through the snow. Even the sight of the lift in your building angers you, so you push your way up the stairs up until the ninth floor, storming through your front door.

Ralph looks over at you from where he sits on the sofa, delight on his face, which quickly falls when he sees your expression. “Is everything alright?”

“Is it?!” You screech. “Have a guess who I saw out there.”

He frowns. “I’m not sure, I didn’t quite think there was anyone out there who upset you to that degree. Would you like some tea or something to calm down?”

“Don’t you dare tell me to ‘calm down’ when you are the reason I haven’t felt ‘calm’ for almost six months now!” You hold your forehead, and Ralph looks back at you, confused, sad and a little scared.

“I - I quite apologise, is there something I’ve done that’s brought this -”

“Don’t you go giving me the ‘oh, yes, quite’ spiel,” you mock his tone, “not when you’ve been lying to me under my own roof! I trusted you!” You stop yourself when you hear your voice crack at that last sentiment.

He swallows hard. “In what respect have I been dishon-”

“I saw H.P. while I was out, didn’t I?! Going towards that block of flats. So I tell him, I say, oh hang about, Pete, let me go grab Ralph so he can go back. And what do you think he told me?!” You ask, now stood next to the couch, squatting down to get eye level with Ralph.

His eyes dart as he wrings his hands, his eyes squeezing shut and open over and over again. “Yes, well, you see, that -”

“Right, all this umm-ing and ahh-ing is just… Annoying me even more,” you state, rubbing your temples. “I just want the facts, Ralph.”

“You said not to talk about anything from that weekend,” he mutters, and you look at him in disbelief.

“You’ve been holding out on me about this since November?!” You ask incredulously.

“You said! Not to talk! About anything! From that weekend!” Ralph jumps to his feet, punctuating every gap in his sentence with a chop to his palm.

You stand back up to level with him. “Yeah, as in all the shit about - God, are we really gonna drag all of that into light again, now?!”

“Well, if we could just talk about it, calmly,” Ralph gesticulates, but you scoff.

“You gave up all rights to that the moment you started lying to me,” your voice shakes. “It’s you, Ralph. You’re the one person I don’t expect to lie to me, since I don’t lie to you.”

He rasps in disbelief. “That’s not entirely true, now, is it? Or else you wouldn’t react so harshly. There’s something you’re hiding from me, isn’t there? Has your sense of charity finally worn, is that it?” He speaks with the venom in his tone that you’ve only ever heard whenever he’s talking about himself. “What, have you been counting the days down until you could throw me back out? Is that why you’re up until the ungodly hours, researching how to get rid of me sooner?”

You groan, pressing your fingers into your eyelids. “You can’t keep doing this, you can’t just keep making yourself the victim here when that obviously isn’t what I want!”

“Ah, yes, well, you must forgive me for not realising sooner that everything here is exactly as it always has been for my entire life,” Ralph spits. “People pretending to care about me to then use me for my money, or my social status, is one thing, but I have nothing here. Nothing but… Being a pitiful little man.”

“How many more times are we going to have this argument, Ralph? Everybody loves you here!” You punctuate every syllable of the first word with claps. “It’s not just because they pity you, because they don’t know you! They don’t know how you got here, or anything about your shitty family, people just like you! You have to stop being so narrow-minded and start seeing how this,” you gesture in circles in front of him, “affects the rest of us! Especially me, I’m out here having to - to keep track of what secrets I’m keeping and what lies I’m telling to who.”

“Yes, well. Nobody asked you to,” he mutters, looking at the floor.

Your blood now boiling, and all rationality out of the window, you scoff, “Oh, so now you’re ungrateful?!” His eyes snap to yours, but you carry on before he can interrupt you again. “I put my job on the line every time I have to leave early for you. I put my entire livelihood on the line harbouring a fugitive that doesn’t legally exist anywhere, not to mention that I have no clue what to do if you ever need urgent medical attention, if my landlord suddenly decides to kick me out, I don’t know how I’m going to keep them from finding out about you and potentially charging me a fuckton extra, I just - You can’t just think about everything I risk for you even once, can you?”

He frowns, “How dare you say that I don’t care?! I keep a healthy diet, despite all the times you decide we’ll just take away food instead, I keep to myself as much as possible other than the things that you have me do, and whenever I do leave the flat, I leave no trace that I was ever here!”

“Look, we’re getting away from the main problem, here, and I’m not skirting around it any more,” you shake your head. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Strictly speaking, I’ve never told a lie, merely omitted my meeting with Peter from any conversation between you and I,” he points out, and you scowl at him. He sighs, “But you don’t understand. If I told you that, you’d want to know why. And I can’t - there are far bigger things at play here,” he shakes his head.

You look at him in disbelief, “Like what?! Are you some kind of time-travelling spy? An intergalactic detective?”

“Clearly not,” Ralph scoffs.

“Then what, Ralph?” You raise your voice. “What possible reason do you have for - for causing me all that grief all those months ago, just to then go against the one thing you were supposed to do, putting the fate of whatever’s out there at risk all while only living the life of half a person, hm? Why would you choose to stay here like this?!”

“Because I’m in love with you, obviously!”

You and Ralph stare at each other for what feels like hours of silence. His wide, terrified eyes boring into yours as his whole face turns red. His lip quivers and then, suddenly, he pushes past you as you’re still frozen on the spot. You just about turn around to see the last of him rush out of the door, carrying his shoes in his hand.

His coat still hangs on the door, and you can see the snow is falling again. Not realising you’d been holding a breath in the whole time, you groan it out as you grab his coat, wrapping it around your arm to avoid it dragging on the floor, and head out to follow him. You see the display above the lift counting down and curse yourself for having worn yourself out on the way up here earlier.

You huff your way back down the stairs and try to find any trace of where Ralph could have gone. You study the footprints in the snow, vaguely recognising some in the shape of Ralph’s shoes, and decide that it’s as good a lead as any to try and follow them, though they quickly disappear once you get to the main street area. You notice someone loitering and decide it’s worth a shot.

Running across the road to meet them, you ask, “I know this sounds strange, but have you seen a guy go past? Had on a fuzzy blue jumper and no coat, I mean like -”

“Like he was wearing the Cookie Monster’s skin?” They ask with amusement. You sigh with relief, nodding hurriedly and they point, “Went towards the old high street, looked like he was tweaking.”

You thank them and start running as quickly as the resistance from the snow will allow you. It doesn’t help that the wind happens to be blowing the snowfall directly into your face, causing you to constantly stop to rub your eyes or sputter at whatever lands on your mouth.

Once you get back to the street you’d just been to moments before, you sigh with exhaustion as there doesn’t seem to be any trace of him. You still begin pacing the street, looking in every shop window that you pass. You wonder whether he’s hiding at his work, where you wouldn’t be able to get near him, and whether it would be worth asking in there. You’re on good enough terms with his colleague now, and perhaps the eclectic owner of the store might lift your spirits a little. There’s an awful lot of emotional weights on your chest right now, and you’re not sure which ones you’re supposed to be holding. You’re not entirely sure of anything right now, other than that you need to find Ralph.

Not paying attention to what’s in front of you at all, you end up almost vaulting over some poor baby’s stroller as their mother tries to get past you. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You apologise hurriedly, and she looks at you with a weirdly knowing smile.

“You looking for the guy who’s been cutting about in just his jumper?” She asks, gesturing to the coat in your arms.

Your eyes widen, “Yes! Oh my god! Have you seen him?!”

“Nice fella, helped me get the little’un across the road amongst all the snow. Really posh?” You nod again, hoping to egg her along. She eventually tells you, “Yeah, I told him to hurry up and get inside, he’ll catch his death! He went over there, towards them flats.” You don’t even need to look in the direction she’s pointing to know where she means.

You thank her profusely, adding a, “Cute baby!” over your shoulder as you quickly make your way down to your next clue.

Thankfully, it’s more than just that, as you find Ralph leaning against the wall of the building just next to the front door, squatting not far from the ground, his arms crossed over his torso and his head sunk low.

He doesn’t look at you as you walk over to him, but you hold his coat out in front of him. “At least put this on, yeah? That mum’ll have your throat, otherwise.” He silently reaches out for it and stands to put it on.

“He’s not here,” he mutters quietly. “Peter, I mean.”

“So, that was your answer to all of this?” You ask, your voice strangely calm considering how tumultuous your internal monologue is. “To just run back to your old life and leave this one all unanswered and up in arms? No care as to how it’d affect anyone else?”

“Of course I care about - well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag. Of course I care about you. It’s why I thought I shan’t burden you any further. I’ve already insulted your generosity by assuming you hadn’t the agency to tell me that you didn’t want me, without taking into account that perhaps you were being genuine. It’s what caused all that trouble when we were in Brighton. And I didn’t want you to feel any more obligated to do anything more out of - I can’t describe it as anything other than pity, but I never wanted you to feel as though you had to pity me, either.”

You sigh, “Look, I get it. It’s complicated as all fuck. Trust me, I’ve been trying to work out all the ins and outs and ups and downs of it all for months, now. But anything here, it just - we don’t know what it’s gonna do, you know? There’s far bigger forces at play here, you literally travelled through time, surely that’s cocked the universe up cosmically somehow? I don’t even know,” you groan in frustration.

“Well, obviously, I wouldn’t have agreed to stay unless I absolutely knew it wasn’t going to put you at any risk. But Peter stated that… Lauren and the rest, they’ve yet to make any sort of return. And since they could have chosen any time, they surely would have by now. I think… I think they stayed, in the past. And it’s not as though the sky’s turned upside down as a result, or that the world is being run by lizard people, now.”

“Depends on who you ask,” you mutter to yourself with a smirk, before looking over at Ralph. “I’m just hurt that you didn’t think to tell me. I know, I know, it was that weekend, but still. You could have told me that you’d thought it safe to stay, regardless of when you’d figured it out.”

“Would you have still been mad at me?” He asks quietly.

“Honestly? Probably,” you shrug. “I’d probably have argued the toss with you over every single possibility that things could still go wrong. But I’d never, ever force you to come here. Haven’t I been saying it all along? I don’t want you to leave. I’ve been dreading the day that you’re not in my bed anymore, that the flat becomes too quiet again, that I’ll have to spend my evenings watching TV alone without your constant nagging.”

“I thought that rather bothered you,” the hint of a soft smile just about tugs at the corners of Ralph’s lips.

“Oh, it does,” you admit, laughing softly, “but I don’t even want to think about a life where I won’t hear any of that, again. You know, and - and just being reminded of you all the time. All our friends always asking after you, and talking about you, never letting me get over you. I’d stay up at night, staring at the bedroom door from the sofa, wondering what’d be worse; that, or you living your old life meaning that you’d never have existed in mine, meaning I’d have no memory of you at all.”

“I’d always perished the thought of leaving - well, all of you, but especially you,” Ralph’s voice is still quiet. “You’d always - always tell me to tell my sister and Lauren to shove it, but honestly, I don’t think I could ever do that without you there with me. Even if they were to throw me out and I had to find my own way around, nobody else would hold a candle to…” He takes a deep sigh. “I always… I know I’ve always been the hopeless romantic, it’s one of my biggest flaws. And after falling for Lauren as soon as I’d seen her, and everything that happened thereafter, I swore to myself that I’d never let myself do that, again. That’s why I joined the French Foreign Legion, so I could focus on the task at hand, and learning how to build a camaraderie with my fellow soldiers. Except none of them wanted to do that. And so I left, and I ended up right here, and it was only a few streets away that -”

“That some dickhead spilled coffee all over you,” you finish his sentence with a smirk.

“I told you then as well, didn’t I, you’re far from one of those,” Ralph looks at you softly. “But I felt it all come back again. Everything I felt when I first saw Lauren. And before Lauren, when it was Maggie. And before Maggie, when it was - oh, heavens, you don’t need to hear about all my failings. But every time, I acted too quickly, and I only caused myself shame and heartbreak. And when I ended up here, I needed - well, something or someone, anything to anchor me, I had no clue what was happening to me. But you were so kind to me, from the very beginning. And I didn’t want to jeopardise your generosity by ruining it the same way I ruin most other things. So I kept my feelings to myself, for once, hoping that the time to leave would catch up before I let my feelings grow. But here we are,” he sighs. “I suppose I shall have to come clean to the others, and seek refuge with one of them. Though not one of your friends as well, I would never put you in that position. I’d have to perhaps tell Loz, out of all of those…”

You frown, “But why would you have to?” He opens his mouth to answer, but you interrupt him, “You’ve not once asked me how I feel about you.”

“Yes, well, you made some things rather obvious in the flat,” he replies coolly.

“Fair enough,” you nod, “but don’t you think I’d only overreact like that if I was really upset? And that I’d only be that upset if I cared about you so much that it’d break my heart to think you could have lied to me? You’ve yet to ask me how I feel about all of this.”

Ralph wrings his hands together, wincing as though bracing for a physical impact as he asks, “Of course, my apologies. So… How do you feel?”

“It’s hard to say,” you admit, trying not to laugh at his offended face. “Okay, I know, I’m being a dick again. I’m just… I dunno, even though, like, I know now that I can say it, it’s still not easy to just, say out loud for the first time.” You let out a long and shaky breath. “I think that… I’ve never been in love before. But if feeling safer being around you, and always wanting to share my life with you, and dreading the day I never see you again, and my heart soaring every time your face lights up with happiness… I think all of those things are the kind of guff people talk about in those romance films. And I didn’t think those kinds of feelings happened in real life, but… I think I know it, now.” You hold his face in your hands and finally say the words that have been dying to leave you all this time. “I love you, Ralph.”

He looks awestruck back at you. You study his face for any other reaction at all, and after a few beats, any sign of life since he remains unmoving, but he soon gleefully grins, leaning in to kiss you. You meet him halfway, moving your arms to wrap around his neck as you press peck after peck against his lips. His arms wrap around your waist as you just kiss him, and nothing else, because nothing else matters. You only break away from each other for air, and to turn your heads to then resume kissing each other as the snow falls around you both.

It’s only when someone clears their throat to get your attention, commenting, “I know it’s Valentine’s Day, but Christ on a bike,” as they push past you, that you actually step away from each other for more than a split second.

You catch Ralph’s eye and hold your hand out to him, “Wanna go get some jelly babies, put on those face masks that make you look like you’re glowing and curl up watching crappy movies and stuffing our faces?”

“I could enjoy watching paint dry in your company, my love,” Ralph smiles warmly at you as he takes your hand, and you take a step back, aghast, but still intertwined with him.

“And where was Ralph the smooth-talker hiding this whole time?!” You ask incredulously, laughing as you fall into step with him.

“Oh, that’s nothing, darling,” he comments, and your heart flies into your throat. You’d heard him call you that in your dreams a hundred times over, but actually hearing it drives you wild. “As I said, I’ve always been quite the hopeless romantic. I’m afraid you’re going to be seeing that at full throttle, now.”

You cackle so hard you bend double. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m gonna see Full Throttle Ralph,” you just about manage to choke out the name through your laughter, and he frowns at you.

“I’m simply warning you that, in agreeing to our courtship, you understand that Ralph Penbury does nothing by halves.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna have to do a lot of catching up, then!” You joke, but he squeezes your hand.

“Oh, good gracious, no, you certainly don’t have to do that! You already do more than enough for me, and I don’t show love just to receive it back, anyway,” he shakes his head.

The journey back to your flat takes the best part of an hour, mostly because you keep interrupting your walk to pull Ralph in for more kisses on the way. You can’t help it, the way his face blushes with the cold just makes him look so adorable, who wouldn’t want to kiss him?!

Plus, when you’d gone to pick his sweets up, he’d told you he had somewhere else to be, run out of the shop, and returned minutes later just as you were leaving, with a bunch of flowers. “I’m cutting it a little short, I know, but would you like to be my Valentine?” He asks as he offers you them.

You take them as you exchange the bag of his sweets into his hands, gasping, “How did you find these so last minute?!”

“Well, they were in our window display,” he admits bashfully, and you laugh.

“Wait, these are from your shop?!”

Ralph nods. “Yes, but I don’t think they mind, too much. Babs was punching the air and telling me to ‘Get in, my son’, but I couldn’t leave you outside and I was technically born in time to be her father, let alone son,” he shakes his head, causing you to laugh even more.

“Shit, I forgot to answer you, didn’t I?!” You look over at Ralph adoringly. “I’d love to be your Valentine, Ralphie. D’you wanna be mine? I’m afraid the sweets won’t last nearly as long as these, as an offering, but -”

“They’re perfect. As is my Valentine this year,” he beams, kissing the part of your forehead not obscured by your hat.

Once you get home, you change out of your snow-soaked clothes and decide to wear the pyjamas you’d both gotten for Christmas from your parents. You wonder whether to tell your friends right off the bat what’s happened today. You know Ralph can keep a secret, but ever since you’d said those four words to him, he’s been practically shouting his devotion to you from the rooftops. As much as you can’t wait to share in this big milestone of yours with your best friends, you just want nothing more than some uninterrupted time to spend catching up with all the affection you’ve been so desperately wanting to give to Ralph this whole time, and vice versa. Besides, they’ve all got dates tonight, too. You don’t want to interrupt their evenings. That’s what you’ll tell them when they inevitably find out.

Instead, you spend the afternoon and well into the evening pampering yourself and your - Boyfriend? What would you even call Ralph? Although that remains short lived as he realises that face masks are just a barrier preventing more kissing from happening, and he pouts until he’s got full access once again. Every peck comes with its own sweet nothing - a declaration of love, a compliment, a comment of gratitude. Although he’d told you it wasn’t necessary, you do try to match his energy - but it just becomes exhaustive after a while.

You had your heart set on ordering from your favourite Chinese takeaway from this morning, before the day's events had transpired, but Ralph is more than happy to eat from there, as well. You even go so far as to try and teach him how to hold chopsticks, though his adorable attempts to keep interlocking your fingers to pull your hand to his lips to to kiss it instead are far more adorable.

After watching some cheesy rom-coms - or rather, spending the night cuddling and constantly kissing Ralph some more while Sandra Bullock tries to find love over and over on the TV - you eventually retire to bed. As you do, your phone chimes its specific tone to tell you the group chat has updated. Laying in bed, you unlock your phone to see a photo of Scott and his partner, on their sofa with a glass of wine each, which is then followed by Grace sharing a snap of her and her boyfriend wearing face masks together in her bathroom. Anna sends a mysterious snap of two fancy-looking meals and two glasses being clicked together, one certainly in her own hand but the other is held by a mystery man, and Connor shares a very sweet photo of him and Ralph's friend Lauren in a restaurant booth together.

Ralph's head rests on top of yours as you show him the photos, and you can feel his smile getting wider at the photo of his two friends from different parts of his life here sitting so closely together. You lean your head up to grin at him, "Should we?”

He smiles back at you as you switch to your camera app. You aim it at you and Ralph and look back over at him, for him to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, smiling into it, and tap at the screen, your muscle memory still knowing exactly where the shutter is without having to see the screen. You type “happy vday from me and my valentine, too 😘”, hit send, laugh loudly with Ralph as you see all four speech bubbles show up at once, and then put your phone on silent and lay it face-down on your nightstand.

You roll back over to snuggle up against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin as he embraces you. “Goodnight, my love,” you hear him whisper in your ear. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Night, Ralphie. Love you,” you mutter back, holding him tight and breathing in deeply, finally free to indulge all you want in the prospect of having a relationship with the man you’ve been in love with for the last five months.

next chapter

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