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peavhyshy · 3 months

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𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗘 (oneshot)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Summary: In which Rafe goes over-the-top as usual to apologize for cheating which includes a grand gesture of buying out an entire boutique is creatively meant to convey his guilt.

Warnings: strong language, fluff, semi smut (but not really), power dynamics, mental/emotional manipulation and ulterior motives, reference to cheating, sexually suggestive situations, non-consensual elements (pressure/coercion into sexual acts), dubious consent, unhealthy relationship, discomfort/anxiety, misogyny/objectification

Words: 5,130

a/n: It's been a while since I posted on here and whatever so here I am, but who's to say I won't disappear for another few months

Outer Banks Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Rafe sauntered into the high-end boutique, the little bell above the door announcing his arrival. The sales associates perked up, eyeing his Ralph Lauren polo and Sperry boat shoes. Ah, a Kook with money to burn.

"Hello sir, can I help you find anything today?" the manager asked, her voice dripping with fake pleasantness.

"Yeah, I need to buy out like, your whole store," Rafe said nonchalantly, checking out a display of cashmere sweaters.

The associates' eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Buy out the whole store, sir?"

"Yep. I screwed up badly with my girl. She's a Pogue, you know? Doesn't really do the whole fancy clothes thing. But she found out I cheated on her with some Touron last week, and now she's pissed." Rafe picked up a floral sundress, scrutinizing it. "So I figured, what better way to say sorry than decking her out in some new designer threads?"

The manager nodded enthusiastically. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture. Let me start ringing up some items for you."

"Nah, like I said, I want to buy out the whole damn store. Just name your price." Rafe pulled out his credit card, waving it around.

The manager's eyes lit up at the thought of the huge commission she was about to make. "Of course, sir, let me calculate our current retail inventory value and I'll give you a total."

"Make it quick. I’ve got a picnic on the beach planned to beg for her forgiveness," Rafe said, leaning on the cash wrap counter impatiently.

The manager returned shortly with the grand total. Rafe didn't even blink as he handed over his credit card. Anything to get his Pogue princess back.

Rafe leaned against the wall near the cash register, watching with disinterest as the store employees scurried around grabbing items off racks and shelves.

"Come on, pick up the pace," he called out impatiently. "I wanna get out of here before the sun goes down."

The manager gave him an appeasing smile as she stuffed an armful of sundresses into a large box. "We're going as fast as we can, sir. I really appreciate your business - this is the biggest sale we've ever had!"

Rafe just shrugged, stifling a yawn. The workers were cramming the boxes full of tissue paper and accessories, trying to maximize what they could fit. Shoes, handbags, skirts, tops - everything was being cleared off the floors and walls.

One associate struggled to fold a pile of cashmere sweaters to fit in an overflowing box while another carefully wrapped up a display of fine china jewelry. The store was slowly emptying out as the minutes ticked by.

"Ugh, this is taking forever," Rafe groaned, pulling out his phone to scroll aimlessly. "I should've just gone to Party City and bought her a bunch of balloons or something."

The manager's smile strained a bit as she kept up her enthusiastic energy. "Almost done, sir! Just a few more minutes and you'll have our entire inventory to present to your lovely girlfriend."

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe muttered, back to being bored. Buying out the whole store was proving to be more tedious than he had anticipated. But hey, you were worth it. Probably.

”I need all of this shipped to her beach house.”

The manager nodded as she taped up another overstuffed box. "Of course, sir. I can arrange delivery to any address you'd like."

She gestured to one of the other employees. "Sara, can you grab some shipping labels? We'll need to send all of these boxes to this gentleman's girlfriend's house once we're finished packing everything up."

Sara hurried to grab a stack of shipping labels and a pen. "What's the address, sir?" she asked Rafe.

"Oh, uh..." Rafe scratched his head. "Somewhere in The Cut, not really sure of the exact address. It's a small blue house near the bay though, it has a tire swing out front. Think the name on the mailbox is L/N or something like that."

Sara looked confused. "Do you have the street name or number? There are a lot of small blue houses in The Cut."

Rafe rolled his eyes. "Jesus, I don't know that shit. Her dad's name is Hank though, if that helps. Everyone knows Hank the Tank down there."

The manager and Sara exchanged a look, neither seeming confident about locating the right address.

"Tell you what," Rafe continued, pulling out a thick wad of cash from his back pocket. "Here's 500 bucks. That should cover you guys figuring out where the hell to deliver all this stuff to Y/N in The Cut. I'm sure one of the Pogues down there can point you in the right direction."

He tossed the cash on the counter and headed for the door without another word, leaving the overwhelmed store employees with boxes piled high and vague delivery information.

You squinted against the setting sun as three large delivery trucks rumbled down the sandy driveway toward your family's weathered beach house. You set down your cards on the rickety picnic table, where you had been playing an intense game of Crazy Eights with John B, JJ, Sarah, and Kiara.

"What the hell is this?" you muttered. The trucks parked haphazardly amidst the uncut grass and strewn beach debris surrounding the house. Drivers hopped out and opened up the backs, revealing piles and piles of boxes crammed to the brim.

"Whoa, did you order the entire Amazon warehouse or something?" JJ joked, sauntering over to inspect the deliveries.

Before you could respond, the porch boards creaked loudly under the weight of multiple pairs of high-heeled shoes. The group turned to see half a dozen boutique store employees teetering across the uneven ground, laden with clothing on hangers and large shopping bags.

"Oh no..." you groaned, realization dawning on you.

"Delivery for Ms. Y/N L/N!" one of the women trilled, scanning the rural beachfront for the recipient.

"That's you, Y/N," John B said, giving you a puzzled look.

Just then, a delivery man approached with an oversized bouquet of roses and a card. "Are you Ms. Y/N? These are for you along with all of these boxes."

"I'm going to kill him," you seethed, grabbing the card. Sure enough, it was from Rafe, attempting to apologize for cheating in his usual over-the-top Kook fashion.

The others laughed, taking in the three trucks overflowing with designer clothes and accessories that had arrived on your doorstep. The group whooped and raced toward the trucks, laughing at Rafe's attempt to buy back your forgiveness. You had to admit - it was a pretty damn good start.

The sun had just set over the expansive Cameron estate as you marched up the long driveway and let yourself in the front door. You breezed past the elaborate foyer and down the hall towards the state-of-the-art home gym, where you knew you would find Rafe.

Sure enough, there he was - shirtless and pumping iron, the clanking of weights echoing through the large room. You crossed your arms, watching as Rafe finished his set of bicep curls before acknowledging your presence.

"Oh hey babe," he said casually, setting down the dumbbells. "I see you got my gifts."

"You mean the eighteen-wheeler trucks filled with designer clothes that choked the road to my house all afternoon?" you replied sharply.

Rafe grinned. "So I take it, you liked them?"

You rolled your eyes. "Did you seriously buy out the entire Verona Boutique?"

"Maybe," Rafe shrugged, grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Why would you do that?" you asked in exasperation.

"Come on, I was just trying to apologize for what I did," Rafe said. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me."

You sighed heavily. "You can't buy me off with fancy clothes, Rafe. That's not how this works."

Rafe stood up and walked over to you. "But did it at least make you smile a little?" he asked with a coy grin.

Despite yourself, You felt the corners of your mouth turn upward. You shook your head, trying to fight the smile.

"You're unbelievable," you scoffed. But Rafe took your reaction as a promising sign.

"So...am I forgiven?" he asked.

You shrugged, struggling to stay stern. "You're not off the hook yet. But...it's a start."

Rafe smiled victoriously and pulled you into an embrace. You hated to admit it, but his over-the-top gesture did melt away some of your anger. Only a Kook would think that buying out an entire boutique could fix cheating - but you had to give him points for creativity.

Rafe's face lit up with a delighted grin as he saw the smile fighting its way onto your lips. Score! He knew you couldn't stay mad at him for long, not when he pulled out all the stops with his over-the-top apology gifts. Sure, buying you an entire wardrobe wasn't exactly practical, but he wanted to go big to show you how much he cared. Because even though he screwed up by cheating, your were still his girl and he needed you to know you were #1. No Touron hookup could ever mean anything compared to you.

Pulling you tighter into his embrace, Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you nuzzled into his bare chest. He could tell the wheels were still turning in your mind, trying to decide if you were ready to fully forgive him yet. But he had plenty more tricks up his sleeve if needed. Diamonds, a new car, a trip to Paris - anything you wanted, it was yours. Being the heir to the Cameron fortune had its perks when you needed to get yourself out of the doghouse.

"So when are you gonna model some of these new outfits for me, hmm?" he murmured suggestively in your ear. "Maybe a private fashion show tonight? I'll even let you use my black AmEx again if you want to pick up some sexy lingerie to complete the looks." He grinned devilishly.

You rolled your eyes and gently pushed out of his embrace. "Down boy. You're not off the hook yet," you reminded him, though your tone had softened considerably. Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay okay, I know. But you gotta admit, the mental image is pretty hot," he said with a wink. you just shook your head, trying to hide your smile. You could never stay irritated with him for long.

"Alright, I should get home and figure out what to do with the small mountain of designer clothes currently cluttering up my living room," You sighed. "I still can't believe you bought out the entire store."

Rafe waved a hand casually. "Don't even trip about it. Consider it just a small token of my love," he said smoothly.

You quirked an eyebrow. "A small token? Rafe, it's got to be worth at least $20,000 worth of stuff."

Rafe shrugged. "Meh, that's like pocket change for me, babe. You're worth it and so much more." He pulled you in for a quick kiss. "I'll swing by later to help you sort through it all, yeah?"

You nodded, a genuine smile breaking through now. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you later." you gave him one last peck on the lips before heading out, shaking your head slightly at your ridiculous boyfriend's attempt to buy your forgiveness. But even you had to admit it was a pretty damn adorable gesture. The boy was utterly smitten, that much was clear. And even if it took a small army of delivery trucks worth of designer clothes to prove it, you supposed you couldn't complain. After all, what girl didn't love a massive shopping spree courtesy of the Cameron family fortune?

Rafe sauntered up the stairs of your beach house, not bothering to knock before letting himself in. your dad was away on a fishing charter and he knew you’d be home alone trying to organize the massive shipment of clothes he had sent over as an apology gift.

"Knock knock, princess!" he called out as he strode down the hall to your bedroom. "Did you get a chance to try on any of the new outfits I bought you?"

He pushed open your bedroom door to find you sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by mounds of tissue paper and discarded shopping bags. You looked up at him in exasperation.

"Rafe! You could at least knock before barging into my room," you admonished.

“My bad, didn't mean to startle you. Just excited to see my gifts being put to use," he said with a grin.

You sighed, gesturing to the chaos around you. "Well, I've been trying to sort through it all morning but there's just so much stuff. You went way overboard as usual."

"Anything to make my girl happy," Rafe replied smoothly, plopping down on the floor next to you. "Here, let me help you get organized."

He began sifting through the piles of clothing, occasionally holding up items for your inspection. "Ooh, you have to model this one for me," he said, grabbing a lacy black teddy. "And this mini skirt would look so hot on you."

You blushed deeply, snatching the risqué items out of his hands. "Rafe! My dad could be home any minute," you hissed in embarrassment.

"So? I want him to see how smoking his daughter looks in the outfits I bought her," Rafe said with a devilish grin. "Might make him finally approve of me."

You buried your face in your hands. "You're unbelievable," you groaned. "Can we please just focus on organizing? I don't have time for an impromptu fashion show."

"Fine fine, I'll behave. For now," he added in a playful whisper.

You guys spent the next hour sorting your new wardrobe into categories - dresses, tops, bottoms, shoes, jewelry. Rafe "helped" by periodically holding up scandalous lingerie pieces and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively until you threaten to smack him with a stiletto heel.

Despite your exasperation at the overabundance of clothing, you had to admit it was fun exploring all the different styles and accessories Rafe had picked out for you. The boy definitely knew your taste, even if he did go over-the-top with buying out the entire store. You made a mental note to donate some of the clothes to charity once you had a chance to try it all on.

You collapsed backwards onto a pile of cashmere sweaters. "Phew! We’re almost done." You smiled over at Rafe. "Thanks for your help. And for the very generous gift. Even though it's pretty ridiculous you bought out an entire store," you added with a laugh.

Rafe grinned and leaned down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. "Anything for my princess," he murmured. "You deserve to be spoiled rotten."

You giggled as he nuzzled your neck, wrapping your arms around him. You supposed you couldn't stay irritated with him for long, not when he was just trying to show his affection through expensive gifts. Over-the-top as it may be.

"Alright Casanova, that's enough distracting me," You said, playfully nudging him away. "Now help me get all of these clothes put away in my closet before my dad gets home."

You shook your head in amusement. "You're absolutely ridiculous. But…" You tilted your head up to him and smiled."I love you for it."

Rafe playfully tackled you onto the pile of cashmere sweaters you had been sorting through. You let out a surprised squeal, smacking his chest lightly as he hovered over you. "Rafeee, I told you to behave!" you chided through your laughter. He just grinned mischievously, dipping his head to kiss along your neck and collarbone as you squirmed beneath him ticklishly.

"Mm mm, you know I can never keep my hands off you for long," he murmured against your skin, nipping lightly. His hands slid up under your shirt, tracing along your stomach and ribs. You shivered at the contact, cheeks flushing as you felt him growing hard against your thigh already. You really shouldn't be doing this with your dad liable to come home any minute…but then again, the risk just made it more exciting.

You bit your lip, hesitating only a moment longer before grabbing Rafe's face and crashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. He groaned into your mouth, grinding his hips down against yours. Things were escalating fast, all thoughts of organizing clothes now tossed aside. Rafe broke the kiss only to tug your shirt over your head swiftly. His eyes drank in the sight of your breasts encased in a lacy pink bra.

"Damn baby…have I mentioned how fucking sexy you look in all these new lingerie pieces I bought you?" He reached around to unclasp your bra, leaning down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimpered, arching into him. You were quickly losing the willpower to stop this and he knew it. His hands slid under your skirt, fingers dipping beneath your panties to find you wet and ready for him already. His hands wandered recklessly over your body, groping and grasping wherever they pleased..

"R-Rafe, my dad…" You gasped half-heartedly in protest even as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch.

Rafe silenced you with another bruising kiss, grinding his arousal against you. His fingers tangled in your hair, using it as a handle to maneuver your head for better access to your neck and chest.

"Shh, don't worry about him," Rafe crooned, his breath hot against your ear. "It's just us right now." His knee nudged between your legs, parting your thighs as he claimed your mouth once more.

Your knees went weak, overwhelmed by the onslaught of Rafe's hungry kisses and wandering hands. You clung to his shoulders for support, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the sparking heat of his body pressed to yours. Your token protests died away as Rafe's skilled fingers caressed the soft skin of your breasts.

"That's my good girl," he praised darkly when you arched into his touch instead of pulling away. His knee rubbed teasingly between your legs as he continued his pleasurable assault, intent on showing you exactly who was in control here.

Your mind reeled, inner alarm bells drowned out by the pounding heartbeat in your ears. You knew you should push Rafe away, stop this before it went too far with your dad possibly home any minute. But your traitorous body seemed to have other ideas as it melted shamefully against Rafe's hard frame.

His kisses left you dizzy and compliant, willpower evaporating under the intoxicating strokes of his hands. But when those hands went to zip down your skirt, some deeply buried remnant of reason sparked back to life inside you.

"Rafe, stop," you gasped out, catching his wrists in your hands. He paused, eyes dark with lust and irritation at being denied his prize.

"Come on baby, don't be like that," he cajoled, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "I know you want this too."

You shook your head, gently but firmly removing his hands from your body. "No, not now. Not here." Your cheeks burned but you held your ground. "I'm not comfortable going any further with my dad so close by. Can we please just…slow down?"

Rafe's jaw tightened, displeasure evident at having his fun interrupted. But after a tense moment he stepped back.

"Fine, princess, whatever you say," he relented, tone dripping with poorly concealed frustration. You let out a shaky breath, tugging your rumpled clothing back into place. Your lips still tingled from the force of Rafe's kisses but the frenzied moment had passed.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I just don't want our first time to be so…rushed," You said earnestly, hoping he could understand despite his obvious annoyance at being denied. His eyes remained dark but he managed a tight smile.

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Wouldn't want Daddy dearest walking in on us anyway," he said with an eye roll. You smiled weakly, knowing that was as close to understanding as you would get from him right now. At least he had backed off for the moment. But you had a feeling this conversation was far from over. Rafe did not like being told no.

He swallowed down his anger, forcing his face into a strained smile. He had to play this carefully; you Lila too much and you’d bolt. No, he needed to lure you in gently, make you trust him completely.

"Of course, princess. We'll take this at your pace," he said smoothly, stroking your cheek. "I just got carried away because you're so damn irresistible." He kissed your forehead, the very picture of understanding despite the lust still raging inside him.

You visibly relaxed, giving him a shy smile. "Thank you, Rafe. I'm glad you understand. I promise, when the time is right…" You trailed off, blushing. Rafe tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your neck teasingly.

"Don't worry baby, I'll make it so good for you when you're ready," he purred. You shivered, skin tingling from his touch. "For now, why don't you model some of these new outfits for me? Might give me a sneak peek of what I have to look forward to." He grinned devilishly.

You laughed, swatting his chest playfully. "You're incorrigible," you admonished, but went to pick out a few items from the piles of new clothes. Rafe settled on your bed, hungry eyes tracking your every movement. For now, he would enjoy the little fashion show. But it was only a matter of time before those clothes ended up scattered across the bedroom floor instead.

A relieved smile crossed your face as Rafe appeared to accept your request to slow things down without argument. You knew he must be frustrated, but you appreciate him respecting your boundaries for now. There would be a right time and place for intimacy later on.

As you sifted through the piles of new clothes, Your smile faltered slightly. You could feel Rafe's intense gaze following your every movement, almost palpable in its hunger. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not entirely an unpleasant one. Still, something about the glint in his eyes gave you pause.

You selected a few simple, conservative outfits to model - a loose fitting sundress, some shorts with a flowy blouse. But Rafe tsked in disappointment, getting up to rummage through the options himself.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that," he coaxed, grabbing a slinky miniskirt and cropped tank top. "I want to see my sexy girl shine." He shot you a playful grin as he pressed the revealing clothes into your hands.

You laughed nervously. "Rafe, those aren't really my style…" But he pouted childishly, guiding you towards the adjoining bathroom.

"Humor me? Just a peek," he insisted. You hesitated, then relented with a shy smile. You had never worn anything so risqué before, but the delight on Rafe's face was gratifying. And it was just the two of you after all…

You changed quickly, adjusting the tiny skirt over yourself. The top was snug and showed a hint of midriff that made you self-conscious. But Rafe's eager expression as you stepped out stopped any protests before they left your lips.

"Stunning," he breathed, drinking in the sight of you. You blushed under his intense scrutiny, suddenly feeling very exposed. But you tried to push past it, giving an awkward little twirl to show off the outfit fully. Rafe's grin was downright predatory.

"Now take it off nice and slow," he said lowly, eyes raking over you. "Give me a proper show."

You balked, arms crossing instinctively over your torso. "Rafe, I…" His eyebrows shot up in challenge and you faltered. Maybe you were overthinking things. You didn't want to disappoint him again…

With trembling fingers, You reached for the hem of the snug tank top. But the voice inside screaming this was a bad idea only grew louder. You dropped your hands, shaking your head firmly as you backed towards the bathroom.

"I'm sorry Rafe, I can't do this. The clothes need to stay on." Your voice was small but resolute. You wouldn't ignore your instincts, not even to placate Rafe's desires. His scowl made your stomach twist anxiously, but you stood your ground, waiting for his response.

Taking a deep breath, Rafe fixed an understanding smile on his face. "You're right, I got carried away again. I'm sorry," he said gently. "I just can't control myself around you sometimes. You look so gorgeous in that outfit."

He approached you slowly until you allowed him to take your hands in his. "Of course the clothes should stay on until you're ready. I'm truly sorry for pushing you, princess." He brushed a tender kiss over your knuckles.

You visibly relaxed, giving him a grateful smile. "It's okay, Rafe. Thank you for understanding." You leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek before disappearing back into the bathroom to change.

You emerged from the bathroom in a comfortable sundress, feeling infinitely more at ease now that you were back in your own clothes. Rafe's obvious disappointment tugged at your heartstrings for a moment, but you brushed it aside. You knew in your gut that stripping for him, even just down to your underwear, wasn't something you were ready for yet.

To your relief, Rafe seemed to have reigned himself in and was back to his usual charming self, apologizing for getting carried away again. You smiled up at him gratefully, leaning in to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," You said earnestly. "It really means a lot. I know this is all new for me." you ducked your head a bit shyly.

Rafe tilted your chin up, smiling fondly as he gazed down at you. "Of course, princess. I'll wait as long as you need. I'm just happy to be with you," he assured you smoothly.

Your heart swelled. You knew you had been lucky to find a guy like Rafe. Wealthy Kook boys had a reputation for being entitled spoiled brats. But most people didn't get to see this sweet, caring side of Rafe like you did. He could be impulsive and hot headed at times, but he respected your boundaries when it really mattered.

"You're the best boyfriend ever," You declared, going up on tiptoe to kiss him warmly. Rafe grinned against your lips, strong arms circling your waist.

"Anything for my girl," he murmured affectionately when you broke apart. You playfully booped his nose, eliciting a laugh from him.

"Alright mister, as much as I appreciate these new clothes, I could really use some help donating some of them," you said in a practical tone. "I can't even wear this many outfits in a lifetime!"

Rafe heaved a dramatic sigh but smiled good-naturedly. "Fiiine, guess I did go a little overboard on the shopping spree," he conceded. You giggled.

"Just a bit. Come on, let's get started." You took his hand, leading him back to the piles of clothes awaiting sorting. Even if Rafe's impulsive extravagance could be frustrating at times, You were grateful to have someone so attentive and willing to lavish you with gifts and affection. You hoped in time he would come to value you for more than just your looks or virginity. For now, You were content to take things slow and simply enjoy exploring young love one day at a time.

Rafe resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he let you lead him by the hand back to the piles of designer clothes he had gifted you. Donating them? What a pointless waste. He had spent a small fortune solely with the intent of seeing you decked out in finery, not giving it away to the destitute Pogues of the Cut.

But he bit his tongue, keeping up the doting act. "Of course I'll help, babe. Anything you want," he said smoothly, playing with your fingers.

Soon, he promised himself as he pulled you in for a chaste kiss on the forehead that contradicted his lustful thoughts. Your smile made him want to gag, but he mirrored it charmingly. Let you enjoy playing house a little while longer. He was adept at getting what he wanted from any woman eventually. The thought made Rafe's cock stir impatiently, but he willed it down. Not yet. He needed to lull you into total complacency first before finally stripping away the last of your resistance.

You hummed contentedly to yourself as you neatly folded clothes into donation boxes, Rafe helping beside you. You smiled up at him after he gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead, happy you guys seemed to be back in sync after the brief tension earlier.

You held up a slinky red cocktail dress, pondering keeping it for a special occasion. But no, it wasn't really your style at all. Into the donation box it went. You frowned slightly as you pulled out several incredibly risqué lingerie items - crotchless panties, lace teddies that left little to the imagination. Definitely not your taste.

"Geez Rafe, did you raid the whole lingerie section?" you asked with a laugh. Rafe just shrugged, unbothered. You shook your head in amusement as you set them aside to give to your more adventurous friend.

Once all the clothes were sorted, you surveyed the boxes contentedly. You had kept enough everyday outfits to last a lifetime, but now many girls in the Cut would have the chance to enjoy fancy new clothes too. It made you happy to spread the wealth, so to speak.

"There, all done! The donation center is going to be thrilled." You smiled brightly at Rafe. "This was a really great idea. I know I said it already, but thank you again for being so generous. And understanding about…everything," you finished, cheeks pinking slightly.

Rafe smiled back warmly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Of course, babe. Anything for you," he said, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. You snuggled into his side, relieved you seemed to be back on the same page.

You hoped with time, Rafe would see you as more than just a conquest or object of physical desire. For now, you were content taking it slow, focusing on emotional intimacy over physical. You had all the time in the world for those things later on if things progressed. But for today, You were simply happy snuggling innocently with the boy who made you feel so safe, protected and cherished. Everything was perfect just as it was.

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blackswaneuroparedux · 9 months

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Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

#emerson #ralph waldo emerson #quote #nature #outdoors #rythm #rythm of nature #patience #in tune with nature #beauty #natural beauty #fjords #norway #norge

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darknesseddiem · 11 months

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I was watching "What Men Want" and I started to think about the same happening with Eddie and Reader, but instead of reader hearing the man's thoughts, it is Eddie who's hearing what Reader thinks and I'm going feral for this. 🥵

Word Count: 2.431K

It's just a short blurb that I write in my phone yesterday, but if you guys liked I could turn this into a fic series.

Warnings: Goofy Eddie, mention of blood, allusion to sex, Simp!Eddie, Modern!Eddie, Eddie being Eddie.

It was a sunny Sunday and everyone was at Steve's house. Nancy, Robin and you were sunbathing on the lounger around the pool while El and Max were in the pool having a heated argument over who was better looking: John Stamos or Ralph Macchio.

The rest of the boys were playing chicken fight and causing a mess around the pool and near the back door.

You heard some cheers before Dustin started screaming.

"Mike and Lucas against... Steve and Eddie!"

You looked up in time to see Eddie and Steve raising their arms to the sides and walking around the pool like they were fighters in a ring.

You giggled as Eddie started blowing kisses in the air like he had a crowd of adoring fans.

"I wonder why we are friends with these idiots." Robin said with an annoyed face, her sunglasses resting on top of her beautiful blonde hair.

"Because Steve has a pool and a big house and rooms with bathtubs and…" She cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

"Yes, yes, I understand, we're friends with Steve 'cause of the pool and the house." The girl started pointing with her fingers. "And with Eddie for the free weed, because there's no way I was going to be friends with these two weirdos for free." She finishes with a nod and goes back to her sunbathing.

You smiled at her honesty and went back to sunbathing.

You checked on Nancy, she was asleep and you make sure that she was covered by the pool umbrella.

You were almost asleep when you were pulled by El and Max's scream.

You and Robin jumped in fright and looked for Nancy, who was probably inside taking a nap.

You looked at the pool and the boys were in a circle looking at something...or someone.

"Is he breathing?"

"Oh my God, we killed him!"

"Everyone stay away! Don't touch him!"

"It's your fault!

"My fault?"

Suddenly all sound was muffled and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

You approached and glimpsed somewhere floating face up in the water. It was Eddie.

Robin gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.

"O-oh my God, I... I'm going to call an ambulance!"

She ran into the house to call an ambulance for the brunette in the water.

You approach slowly and with a better view you could see that the water around his head was painted a light red.

"What... what happened?" You asked with tears in your eyes, he was pale and you weren't sure if he was breathing.

"We were playing chickenfight and I accidentally splashed some water in his eyes," Lucas began with concern creeping into his voice. "I thought it was a great chance to win the fight and I pushed him back, I didn't know Steve was close to the pool wall and... What if... What if he's really hurt?" Tears started streaming down the boy's face.

"Hey, shhh... It's okay, Eddie is a tough guy, he'll be fine." You pulled him for a hug and soothed the boy. But even you didn't believe that Eddie would be okay.

Suddenly Robin came running to the pool and announced that the ambulance was almost there. You sighed in relief and your eyes turned to your best friend who lay pale and almost lifeless on the surface of the water.

The ambulance came and took Eddie straight from the emergency room and said he was off limits to visitors until he was out of danger.

And that's how you found yourself three hours later pacing the around hospital lobby, with all your friends waiting for any news about Eddie's condition.

The doctor called his name and you stopped walking and walked quickly in front of him.

"He's our friend. Any news?" You asked before everyone closed the hall with anxiety and concern for their friend.

"He's out of danger now, he has a concussion on his occipital bone, but it's nothing too serious. He's awake and clear for visitors, we'll run some more tests and then you can take him home." The doctor said writing on a sheet of paper.

You let out a sigh of relief when the doctor said that Eddie is safe and well, everyone in the hall sighed in the knowledge that their metalhead friend is not dead.

"Oh God, thank you Jesus."

"Man, I thought I was going to pass out worrying about that asshole."

"What is an occipital bone?"

"Do you think he's going to try to kill you after you nearly killed him?"

"Dude, I think you should run and hide because Eddie is going to be pissed at you."

"So... who goes first?" Steve asked standing with both hands on his hips like a mother.

"Lucas." All the boys said in unison and looked at their friend who looked like he was having a panic attack.

"WHAT? ME? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?" He screamed forgetting he was in a hospital.

"I mean, you need to apologize for almost letting him know Jesus…" Dustin said looking everywhere but at Lucas.

Steve scoffed and looked at Dustin like he'd grown two heads. "Jesus? Do you really think Munson is meeting Jesus when he dies? You're delusional, Dustin Henderson." He said gesturing with his hands.

"EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Max's voice shutting out everyone in the hall, including the people who work there.

"I think Steve had to go first" The redhead said and looked at the other brunette.

"WHAT? WHY ME?" He yelled in exasperation. "I don't even know if he's going to try to kill every single thing that moves towards him after all this, and you want me to go first? Hell no, I won't!" Steve crossed his arms like a petulant child.

"That's why you're going, Dingus, because you're going to be our shield against his rage." Robin interrupted and said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Steve gasped and placed his hand over his heart.

"My own friends, sacrificing ME! To the devil incarnate." He pretended to cry and everyone rolled their eyes in annoyance.

"Shut up!"

"Oh, but you are so going, Steve."

"You better go or I'll shove my feet up your ass."

"Come on, it's just Eddie, he's harmless." Okay, that was a lie, but whatever.

After a few minutes of heated discussion, Steve went (by sheer spontaneous pressure) to Eddie's room first.

Eddie didn't like those damn lights. Those white things just above his face were disturbing his peaceful sleep where he dreamed of you and your beautiful smile, just for him.

You two were in the park holding hands as you walked slowly as the sun started to hide behind the pink clouds, you were wearing a short white dress that goes up to mid-calf with small blue flowers and leaves, two slits on the side of your legs resting just above the knee and the sleeves resting beautifully on your shoulders.

"You know…" he started to say. "I always thought someone like me wouldn't be friends with a girl like you..." The boy said kicking the invisible rocks in front of him.

"Why not? I mean, you're everything a girl could dream of." You said and lifted his chin so he could look at you.

"Y-do you really think about it? I just…I don't know, you're too perfect for me, Sweetheart." He gives you a shy smile and starts walking towards you.

"Eddie..." You frowned and looked at him with those beautiful huge eyes.

Why are your eyes almost popping out of your skull? Wait, why are they getting bigger?

Eddie makes this weird face and you start smiling at him and he realizes you're turning into Snapchat's big-eyed bee filter, but without the colors and with lots of eyes.

He loses his shit when you start talking again. It wasn't your voice or even his language, it was Barbie's Bibble voice (he knows because he's watched every damn movie that had that weird blue bee thing in it).

"Elinapuff abarara batapa pelipuff ah lalalalala."

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

He started to distance himself from you so he could get away from this nightmare.

But suddenly the scenery changed and who in his place was the last person he expected to see.

Steve Harington.

Wearing your dress.

And holding his hand.

His. Fucking. Hand.

"Dude, you scared us all, everyone out there is worried about you."

With me? I'm not the one wearing my girl's dress.

"You know…" Steve grabbed the dress and started rocking back and forth like a schoolgirl. "I was afraid to go in and you'd be mad about what happened today."

I'm going to start screaming like a girl and I'm not kidding.

Steve walked over and touched his long hair as he balanced.

"Wow, now that I'm looking at you closer, your head now looks like Timmy from South Park. Damn." He felt Steve touching his head and that's what made him open his eyes at the exact moment.

Eddie's eyes widened as he sat up incredibly quickly on the hospital bed, his head felt like it weighed a ton and was throbbing like hell.

He looked over at Steve, who was scrunched up with worry and fear as he glared at the metalhead.

"Where is your dress?" Eddie asked looking him up and down with a raised eyebrow.

"Wh-what dress?" The tanned man asked confused. Maybe it was the concussion.

"The dress, the white dress with the blue flowers and…" The brunette closed his mouth the moment he realized he was in a room too strange to be his.

"Um, excuse me… But where the hell am I?" He looked around the room skeptically.

"Well that's a very long and funny story." Steve said with an awkward laugh.

He starts to tell Eddie everything that happened, the chicken fight in the pool, Lucas pushing him and about his concussion. Eddie sat there and listened and realized that the concussion was the thing causing the pain in his head.

"So, you're telling me it's all Sinclair's fault? Oh, I'm going to drown that little shit in the pool and…" Her rambling about her revenge was interrupted by a doctor entering the room.

"I see you're awake, we've just finished your tests and you can go home now." The old man said and went back to work.

Eventually everyone went to the living room to see their friend. Everything was normal, until you entered the room.

"Hey, Eds…" Your sweet voice reached his ears and he grinned at you.

"Hey Honey, did you miss me?" You laughed and shook your head.

"You wish, Munson." You said and gave him a crooked smile.

'I thought I was going to pass out from worrying about you, idiot'

"Oh yeah? I knew you loved me, no need to lie." His face was decorated with a shitty grin.

You frowned a little.

'What is he talking about?'

"I, Eddie Munson, am talking about you nearly passing out because you're worried about me." He replied smiling like it was obvious.

"Oh…"

'But I didn't say anything…'

If he wasn't so focused on your pretty face, he wouldn't have noticed that your mouth didn't move when you were talking to him.

Oh God.

Eddie could be dumb for a lot of things: school, not knowing the difference between an alligator and an crocodille, thinking you can hear someone's phone call if you move close to the other ear because he saw in a cartoon that ears were connected and the brain was hollow, and a bunch of other stuff.

But this, oh this was different. He's spent most of his life reading nerdy books about fantastical creatures and telepaths.

Holy shit, he could read your fucking mind! Man, this is going to be sooo much fun.

"Why are you smiling like a psycho?" You asked snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing, Sweetheart, nothing…" His sick, perverted brain was already coming to life again.

The next time Eddie could read your mind was when the two of you were in his trailer relaxing and watching some movies on Netflix.

'This guy looks like a sneaker, the shoe, not the chocolate.'

'I would like to have a chocolate now.'

'These tacos look so good, my tummy is almost talking.'

He looked at you slowly and scowled, was food the only thing on your mind?

The next interesting thing came hours later, the two of you were in his bed and he was licking a joint to smoke with you, when he suddenly stopped breathing.

'I'd like him to lick me like that too, I've never wanted to be a joint so much in my life…'

His eyes widened and a tinge of pink began to cover his cheeks and ears. Do you want him to lick you? The poor boy was already dreaming about you, in a not-so-friendly way.

The third time came like a tsunami washing over him, he wasn't prepared for what he would hear from his mind.

The whole gang was celebrating Mike's birthday and even the hellfire clube were there.

The boys were sitting around the living room table shouting and discussing something about Dungeons & Dragons when Eddie felt you sit next to him, he was used to hearing your thoughts so it was like a muffled sound for him.

"Something smells good in here."

He could feel you pressing into his side, but he paid no attention to it.

'Oh it's you! What is that? Hmmm, vanilla…Cigarettes and…Man smell? I don't know, but I like it.'

He was ready to take a sip of his Jack & Coke, the cold glass pressing against his warm, soft lips when the tsunami came crashing down on him.

'You smell so good I could eat you… Or let you eat me, or both.'

He choked on his drink and started coughing like crazy.

His already half hard cock bouncing hearing the things you were thinking of doing to him, was it too much for him, his hot best friend wanting to fuck him? Yep, he was pretty sure he'd come in his pants.

"Eds!" You started stroking his back in a gentle way and Eddie's eyes darkened as he looked at you.

It's official, Eddie Munson is totally fucked and it was head over heels for his hot best friend.

I don't know if you all know the Barbie scene I used so I'm gonna put the link to a tiktok that inpired me to put this on this blurb

Bibble talking

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Sacrifice for 'read more' 🙏🏻

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddiemunson #eddie munson x f!reader #modern!eddie x reader #modern!eddie munson #darknesseddiemfics

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pollenallergie · 5 months

Text

the favourite

Word Count: 4k

Description: Ralph checks in on his favourite maid.

A/N: as always, all credit for Ralph’s canon surname goes to @mypoisonedvine!! <3

CW/TW: nothing to see here, just good ole fashion comfort fic. some brief mentions of vomiting/stomach issues, but that’s all. just good ole wholesome fluff. reader is referred to as a woman, and she/her pronouns are occasionally used to refer to her… i’m sorryyyy i really meant to make this more gender-neutral, but there was some wording that sounded really clunky when written to be gender neutral, and i couldn’t find out how to get around it, so i caved. i’m sorry :/

Ralph paces outside the maids’ quarters, fretting about what sort of state you must be in. He’s not seen you all day, and that, in and of itself, is quite unusual.

From the moment he’d noticed that you were missing at breakfast, he’d begun to worry. However, his anxiety only increased tenfold when he’d overheard a couple of the other servants discussing how you’d fallen ill in the late, late hours of last night. Now that Ralph knows the true reason for your sudden absence, he debates whether he should pay a visit to the maids’ quarters to check in on you.

On the one hand, he cares for you deeply, probably more than a man should care about one of his maids, and wants to support you in your time of need. However, on the other hand, Ralph is quite squeamish and he worries that he will not be able to handle seeing you in such a compromised state. Or, rather, he fears that any reaction he may have to your sickly plight will only make things worse for you.

“Ralph,” his sister, Victoria, shouts from the other room, “Would you stop pacing? I can hear your feet pitter-pattering, it’s driving me mad! And you’re creating a draft,” she scolds him harshly.

“R-right, of course,” he stutters, now forced to make a choice. Shall he go in and check on you or should he simply wait for you to come out on your own, once you’ve recovered?

Suddenly, it occurs to Ralph that you may never recover, that this mysterious ailment may well be fatal. Should that be the case, then Ralph would lose you forever. That thought stirs an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s decided then, Ralph thinks, I must go check on her.

So, he peeks down the hall, ensuring Victoria is far enough away that she won’t notice him sneaking into your room. Once he’s confirmed to himself that his sister is too far from him to be aware of his clandestine activities, Ralph slowly and quietly opens the door to your rooms, calling out your name to ensure that he won’t startle you.

“It’s me, Ralph. Are you decent?” He inquires politely.

“Yes,” you hum out pathetically as one of your cold hands snakes under your duvet to gently cradle your aching stomach. At this point, you can’t tell if your chills are the result of the frosty winter weather that roars on just outside the thin glass of your bedroom window or of the illness you’d awoken with last night.

At the sound of your pitiful tone, Ralph swiftly enters your room and softly shuts the door behind him. He then promptly makes his way over to you before coming to kneel at your bedside, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Oh, dove, what’s happened to you?” Ralph asks frantically with his eyes flitting back and forth as he takes in your sallow appearance. Your heart thrums at the term of endearment he’s used.

Perhaps it should be concerning that one of your employers has invaded your space, the only comfort you are owed as a domestic servant, this realm of so-called privacy that you share with two other young ladies and one very pious older lady. Not to mention that he’s referred to you in such an inappropriate manner. However, you’ve come to expect such behaviour from Ralph, who has never much bothered with upholding social customs.

Surprisingly, he frequently pays even less mind to cultural standards than his twin sister, Victoria, a woman known far and wide for her eccentricities. Victoria, for example, certainly doesn’t make a habit of fraternising with the help beyond the typical daily exchanges that take place in the home. Ralph, however, is quite chummy with all of the staff of the Penbury House.

Though, recently you’ve become his favourite, most likely because you indulge his odd little whims more than the others and more than you probably should. Although, now you’re hardly in the right state to properly accommodate such spontaneity.

“My stomach,” you pathetically whimper your response as you look up at him with sorrowful, glassy eyes.

Ralph feels his heart break at the sight. Only then does he notice the empty bin positioned precariously by your bed, and he begins to feel a nervousness flutter about in his belly.

“Are you- Have you gotten sick?” He asks, his voice having gone up an octave from all of his worrying.

You nod before attempting to provide verbal confirmation, only to then be cut off by a sharp, cramping pain shooting through your abdomen. You wince at the horrid feeling, causing Ralph to frown.

“Is it painful?” He asks softly.

“Yes,” you whimper out, an unintentionally adorable pout taking over your features.

You cannot help but feel ashamed. A member of the household staff should never make their discomfort known to their employers, even if your master did ask you directly. Perhaps, if anyone overheard you, you can simply blame it on your fever-addled mind. Certainly that seems reasonable, right?

You’ve heard of men at war having delusions of grandeur as a result of incredibly high fevers, caused by infected wounds, warping their minds. Certainly then it must be reasonable to suspect that your mild fever is at fault for your current inability to properly think things through before you say them aloud.

Oblivious to your mental plight, Ralph lifts his hand to rest near your temple, the tips of his fingers gently stroking the damp, wispy strands at your hairline as he coos, “Oh, poppet, I shall call for a doctor at once.” It’s a comforting touch accompanied by words that speak of a kindness someone like you simply will never deserve from someone like him, you are well aware of that, yet you cannot help but lean into the touch all the same.

“I’ll be alright, my lord,” you reply, giving your polite, indirect refusal.

Ralph tsks in disapproval, “Sweetling, you know that I will not know peace until you’ve recovered. Please, let me help you,” he begs sweetly.

You sigh, your resolve swiftly melting under the heat of the pleading gaze that his coffee brown eyes fix you with.

“Thank you, my lord,” you say, simultaneously accepting his aid and articulating your gratitude for it while your lips curl up into a small, shy smile.

In turn, he rewards your reluctant acceptance with a big, beaming grin. He then gingerly takes one of your clammy hands, the only one which is not currently cradling your aching stomach, into one of his own before placing a chaste kiss to the back of it.

“Rest up, dove. I’ll be back shortly,” Ralph informs you giddily, oddly excited by the prospect of caring for you. He then swiftly departs, rushing off to ring up their local physician.

Only an hour or so later, you're suddenly awoken by the sound of the door to your quarters opening with an eerie creak. You huff and roll over without opening your eyes, presuming it to be one of the other maids.

“Darling, I have returned,” Someone calls out in a singsong tone as they enter your room, “I apologise for being away for so long. You would not believe how difficult it was to get in touch with our family’s physician.”

“Ralph?” You ask, momentarily forgetting your manners due to the lingering exhaustion, as you roll over and open your bleary eyes to look at the person.

“Yes, ‘tis I,” he confirms theatrically, just as energetic and campy as ever, as he sets down a glass of water and a cup of tea on your night stand.

Ralph then gracelessly plops down on your bed, a canvas bag filled with various bits and bobs still loosely tucked into the crook of his elbow as he comes to sit just by where your feet rest under the blankets.

“Oh, how I do love it when you simply call me by my name,” he remarks cheerfully as he gently boops your nose.

“It’s improper,” you grumble, “I should always refer to you by your title.”

“Perhaps it is, but I love it all the same,” Ralph replies, still sporting his cheerful smile as he busies himself with setting out all of the things he’s brought with him on top of the wooden trunk that sits near the foot of your tiny bed.

Now that Ralph thinks about it, he really should arrange for you to get a bigger bed, maybe he should arrange for all the staff to get bigger beds; he can’t imagine these are very comfortable. You’re a grown woman, a lovely, amazing, kind, unfairly beautiful grown woman, you deserve to sleep in a bed befitting a grown adult.

“Now,” Ralph begins to explain once he’s arranged everything to his liking, “It would seem that Dr. Wycoff has already stepped out for the day, so he won’t be able to come until tomorrow morning. However, you needn’t fret, for I had one of our footmen go out and fetch you some things that might ease your discomfort, at least until we can get you proper medical attention.”

“My lor-” you attempt to interject, most likely to remind Ralph that his fretting over you is both completely unnecessary and entirely inappropriate, though the attempt is in vain as your master continues with his ramblings.

“Now, let’s see, I’ve got some ginger tea to help calm your stomach, a hot water bottle for the cramping, a glass of cold water with some mint leaves in it, a couple pieces of toast, and a collection of poetry that I can read to you. What shall we start with first?” He asks eagerly, looking at you with those wide, kind eyes of his. There’s a spark of determination present in his warm gaze and it lets you know that any further attempts you make to refuse his care, whether they’re for propriety’s sake or otherwise, will be futile.

You huff out a breath, the sound of it is something between a humorous chuckle and resigned sigh, before smiling up at him fondly.

“Perhaps we could start with the hot water bottle and maybe the book of poems as well,” you suggest.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but, somehow, his smile seems to become even bigger and brighter than before. “Marvelous idea, poppet,” He says sweetly as he grabs the hot water bottle.

Rather than simply handing the item to you, as you initially expect, Ralph simply lifts the linens away from you, revealing your form to him, so that he can place the hot water bottle on your aching stomach himself. The moment he registers that you’re in your nightdress — your white cotton nightdress, which is surprisingly thin and not doing much to conceal your form from him — he realises his mistake.

Ralph gingerly, yet hastily places the hot water bottle on your stomach, his fingertips able to feel the warmth of your skin through your nightdress as he does so. His cheeks and the tips of his ears burn with a warm blush as he aids you. Ralph then promptly rights the linens back in place so that you’re properly covered, before swiftly rising to his feet, turning away and attempting to disguise his flusteredness by clearing his throat.

“I apologise,” he exhales a shaky breath, still refusing to look at you, “for erm- well- I only meant to help. It was not my intention to erm- to violate you. I would never want to dis-”

“My lord, it’s quite alright.”

“-respect you or to- to, erm, to dishonour you.”

“You haven’t, my lord,” you attempt to interject, though it seems nothing you say will halt his spiraling.

Oh, well, drastic times call for drastic measures.

“It was certainly not my intention to force myself onto you or to, erm, to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state. Truly, I only meant to help you, to care for you, because, well, I think I might l-”

“Ralph,” you interrupt.

The sound of his own name finally captures his attention as he turns to face you once more, mostly out of shock; you hardly ever call him by his first name, despite the fact that he’s made it very obvious that he wishes you would only ever refer to him by his first name, his name, not the name held by his father and his sister and every other Penbury who’s not him.

You reach out to gently grasp one of his hands in one of your own, clammy, hands. “It’s alright.”

He looks down at your intertwined hands, then back at your face, focusing on your eyes which look up at him so kindly, and then down to your lips which are curled into a soft, shy smile, one that, in his wildest dreams, he lets himself believe you reserve only for him.

“It is?” He asks, his tone still wavering with worry.

“Yes,” you reassure him before patting the spot he once sat in, silently encouraging him to sit back down, to be near you again.

Ralph obliges your wordless request and hesitantly lowers himself to sit back down on the edge of your bed.

He’s quiet still, too quiet, especially considering that neither of the Penbury twins are ever quiet. You worry that he’s still lost in his own mind, panicking about propriety, much like you always are. You don’t like seeing him worry.

“My lord, I do believe you promised to read some poems to me,” you remind him, not truly wanting to boss him around, but rather wanting to give him something to focus on other than his recent misstep.

“R-right, right, of course, I, erm,” he pauses to clear his throat, looking down at his hands as he wrings them together, deciding whether he should speak the next words allowed given how he’s already disregarded your boundaries today. Ultimately, he sighs and decides to take the risk.

“I’ll, erm- I’ll read them to you but only,” he whispers before pausing briefly to let out a shaky breath, “only if you promise to stop referring to me as ‘my lord’ when we’re alone. I’d,” he pauses once more, summoning the courage needed to speak his next words aloud, “I’d much rather you call me Ralph when it’s just the two of us.”

He’s told you this many times before and you’ve never been outright offended, but still, he worries.

Although, you’ve recently, within the last few minutes, called him Ralph all on your own, making that the second time that you’ve referred to him by his name today. Twice is certainly the most you’ve ever called him by his name in a day as you almost never refer to him as anything but ‘my lord’ when addressing him directly and ‘Lord Penbury’ when referring to him in conversations with the other household staff members; conversations he really shouldn’t eavesdrop on, but that he always does, at least, when you’re a part of them.

Certainly your seemingly waning hesitance to call him by his name must be a good sign, right?

You reply, “Maybe I shall call you Ralphie.”

It’s a joke, one that shouldn’t be said aloud, one that you didn’t properly think over before you said it aloud, one that has entirely too much truth behind it, one that really wouldn’t seem like a joke at all if not for your humorous tone. Ralph certainly doesn’t seem to think it a joke.

He smiles brightly, some of that characteristic Penbury enthusiasm returning to him in that moment, as he genuinely replies, “I would love that, sweetling.”

“Now,” Ralph continues, “as for the poems, this book is from my own personal collection. It’s the selected poems of John Keats. He’s one of my favourites. It’s a shame tuberculosis took him so young. Thankfully you don’t have tuberculosis, or, at least, I’ve got no reason to think that you do. I believe tuberculosis is the one with all the coughing, and you haven’t a cough, just an upset stomach, right, darling?” He rambles as he digs the book out of his bag and then thumbs through it in search of his favourite poem.

“Right,” you confirm, “no coughing.”

He hums at that, offering mere acknowledgment as he’s already moved onto another subject entirely. Usually you’re one of the only ones who’s able to keep up with him in conversation, whenever you’re actually afforded the opportunity to indulge him in it without getting caught by the housekeeper, the woman in charge of you and all the other female servants. However, today it’s difficult to keep up with his rapidly shifting focuses, likely due to your current state of ill health.

“Are you familiar with his work?” Ralph asks suddenly.

“Hmm?” You question, too lost in your own thoughts to remember who he’s talking about.

“John Keats. Are you familiar with any of his poems?” He asks again, not at all bothered by the fact that you seem to have lost focus for a moment there.

One thing you’ve learned in your time working here at the Penbury estate is that the younger of the two Penbury twins is exceedingly patient, whilst the elder is exceedingly short-tempered.

“I’m afraid not, erm,” you heistate before calling him by his desired nickname, still reluctant to let go of propriety, “Ralphie,” you reply, giving in to the temptation to please him, to make him happy by calling him something far more personal than his title.

It’s the first time you’ve actually used that nickname when addressing him and the sound of it sets fireworks alight in his chest.

“Oh, how dreadful! I suppose we shall start with the classics then, yes? This one is called ‘You Say You Love’ and it’s easily one of my favourites of all the poems I’ve ever read,” Ralph explains before leaning in close to tap your nose with an audible ‘boop’ before assuring you, in a tone that’s much like the one he uses when he’s cooing lovingly, “you’re going to positively adore it, sweetling, I’m certain of it.”

He sits up again, opening the book to the correct page before suddenly remembering the tea he’d had the kitchen staff prepare for you.

“Sweetling,” Ralph calls out to you.

“Yes, Ralphie?” He can’t help but smile at the sound of your sweet voice uttering his preferred nickname, this time noticeably less tentative than before.

“Do remember to drink your tea before it goes cold, my lo- my dear,” he clears his throat out of embarrassment before reaffirming, “erm, j-just dear. Dearest, even!”

She’s not yours, Ralph, you blasted fool! He harshly reminds himself.

You bravely rest one of your hands atop his own, knowing he needs the comforting touch to ground him and help him avoid another spiral. “I will,” you assure him.

“R-right, erm,” he clears his throat, “let us begin.”

You hum your approval as you reach over to carefully grab the cup of tea from where it sits on the trunk by your bed. Ralph can’t help but smile as he watches you take a sip, all while still clutching the hot water bottle to your tummy.

“You say that you love,” he begins, immediately channeling the energy of a romantic poet, like John Keats, waxing poetic about unrequited love, “but with a voice chaster than a nun’s…”

You sit back, resting against your thin, floppy pillow, sipping your ginger tea whilst you listen to him recite one of his favourite poems in a tone of voice so soft and intimate, that it begins to lull you to sleep.

It’s not long before you’re sound asleep, but, even then, Ralph doesn’t stop reading his poems; mostly because he’s so engrossed in the works of his favourite poet that he fails to notice that you’ve fallen asleep.

Once he does notice, however, he sets his book aside so that can help get you settled. He carefully eases the cup of tea out of your clutches, lest you spill it on yourself in your sleep, and sets it aside. He takes great care in gently tucking you in, careful not to wake you as he makes sure you’re sufficiently covered by your bed linens.

Thanks to your lack of consciousness, Ralph even finds the courage to lean forward and press a gentle, chaste kiss to your forehead. Though, he soon realizes that might have been a mistake as your forehead is very sweaty, no doubt thanks to your fever, and now your now-cold perspiration is on his lips. He grimaces at the gross feeling as he harshly wipes your sweat off of his lips with the sleeve of shirt. He also indulges in a sip of your tea, just to make sure that your sweat is well and truly gone.

“I shall remain right here as you sleep, sweetling. I won’t leave your side, not for a moment,” Ralph reassures your sleeping form.

He makes good on his word, sitting at your side and watching you sleep, memorising the slope of your nose and the roundness of your cheeks, reading poem after poem to you even though you aren’t awake to hear them.

Ralph even replaces your hot water bottle when it goes cold, handing it off to Langley — who’s been dutifully waiting outside the door to the maids’ chambers ever since he discovered his master was in there — so that he can have the kitchen staff rewarm it for you. He still blushes and flusters when he lifts the linens to take the now useless water bottle from you, he still feels wildly guilty about crossing any boundaries, even though you’re in too deep of a sleep to notice. Ralph even finishes your tea before it goes cold and then has Langley order the kitchen staff to prepare some more for you.

Speaking of dear Langley, the Penburys’ head butler whose current, steadfast presence by the door to the maids’ quarters, a place he’s never been posted outside of before, gives away Ralph’s presence in your room to anyone and everyone who walks by.

Luckily for Ralph, Victoria would never set foot in what she colloquially refers to as the “Help Hall,” a hallway lined with doors that lead to the various rooms the staff of the townhouse reside in.

Still, he can’t imagine that the women with whom you share your room are at all happy to have their master lingering in their space. So, when the evening draws to a close, and he hears the murmurs of other staff members going off to their rooms in that same hallway, Ralph reluctantly leaves your side to avoid causing any offense to the other maids, who’ve never been anything but kind to him.

Nevertheless, before he leaves, Ralph places another soft kiss on your forehead, and this time, he has the forethought to use his handkerchief to wipe away most of the sweat before he presses his lips there. He holds his lips there a bit longer than last time, hoping that, even in your sleep, you can feel the warmth of his affections pouring through the gesture.

When Ralph pulls away, he whispers to your sleeping form, “Unfortunately, I must take my leave now, but I will return tomorrow morning so that I may continue to look after you in your time of need. I shall return every day until you are well again, dear heart, this much I promise, and you must know that a Penbury always keeps their promises,” Ralph pauses, his brows furrowing as he thinks over his words, “Or, at least, I always keep my promises. If memory serves me correctly, I’ve not broken a promise yet, and I most certainly do not intend to start doing so now.”

Suddenly, Ralph sighs; it's a solemn, dejected sound that perfectly conveys his reluctance to leave your side. His eyes rake over your sleeping form once more, hoping to memorize the sight of you in the hopes that you might appear in his dreams tonight.

“I know you cannot hear me right now, sweetling, and m-maybe that is for the best, but,” Ralph trails off, interrupting himself to take a deep, calming breath. He then uses his handkerchief to wipe off some of the sweat on your cheek before leaning in to plant a gentle kiss there. When Ralph pulls away, he moves just slightly so that his lips hover near your ear, and then softly whispers, “I love you.”

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