#“she sways in her velvet dress and pulls me towards her in the dark”

[lavenderhayes12]

Rip Marius Renathyr you would've loved The Night by Voltaire

[mr-moonfucker]

may aha look upon yer wretched soul

say "she's calling me" in my asks for 1-3 3 star propagation blessing(s)

or

say "nah id stay awake" for 1 weighted curio

[shellevisionfan]

Another song, aside from #Rule 34, that reminds me of the T.Vee x Shelly fic is The Night from Voltaire. If you don't know it I highly suggest giving it a listen, as well as looking up the lyrics ! Aside from being a great song, I think it really fits but that might just be me-

I LOVE THE NIGHT!! it is absolutely a Twisted fic song! esp with the lyrics..

"But the night!"

"She calls me, She calls me, She calls me, She calls me--She sways in her velvet dress, and pulls me toward her in the dark.."

"While the others rest, While the others rest, While the others rest..."

GOD ITS SO SHELLY BEING TEMPTED TO FIND TWISTED VEE OH MY GOOODDDD

OH! and the lyrics

"Come with me to the other side"

"Make that girl in black your bride!"

TWISTED VEE SEEING SHELLY AS HER BRIDE AND WANTING HER TO STAY WITH HER IN THE DEPTHS OF GARDEN VIEW

RAAAUUGHHH I LOVE CONNECTING MUSIC WITH CHARACTERS I ENJOY!!!!--

lalalala im so normal im so normal lalalala

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the something blue

lilac, chapter sixteen

a/n: i gotta admit, I felt pretty proud of myself back when i came up with the title for this chapter. really clicking into that big brain of mine, giving it multiple meanings

summary: Casting one last glance over your shoulder at the celebrations still in full swing, you slowly made your way out front to where your car was parked among all of the guests’. 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, angst, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, wedding, kidnapping, crying, violence, cliffhanger

word count: 917

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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As you pulled open the zipper on your backpack that was momentarily resting on the wobbly porch bench, a small smile tugged at your lips as your gaze washed over the dancing figures distantly in the garden. Softly lit by the twinkle lights strung from the trees, you caught sight of Donna, in the middle of the grassy dancefloor, swaying closely with a man about a head shorter than her, the strong embrace she had around him smooshed his face far into her bosom. Twirling around, she caught the eye of both Otto and your father who were off to the side, dancing as if they were in Studio 54. 

Shifting the tupperware of cake under your arm, you fished out your phone from your bag’s front pocket and began to type out a message. 

Y/n: Finally done! Hope you’re not asleep yet because I am on my way!

And just a few short moments later, your phone plinged with a reply.

Frank: Don’t worry, sweetheart. I am wide awake.

Smiling softly to yourself, you tucked your phone away, nearly shoving it into the folded-up cotton of the underwear you’d rid yourself of just minutes earlier when you had dipped inside to grab your stuff from your room. 

Closing the front compartment, you slung the backpack over one shoulder and smoothed a hand down over the deep green velvet wrap dress that enveloped your curves, hugging you and cascading off like a waterfall. 

Casting one last glance over your shoulder at the celebrations still in full swing, you slowly made your way out front to where your car was parked among all of the guests’. 

With gravel crunching beneath your modest heels, you neared your vehicle, tugging your bag around to your front as your fingers fiddled after your keys. Halting just as you neared the door, you glanced down a moment before finally finding the keys at the very bottom of your bag. 

But just as you fished the jangly bundle out and moved to unlock your car, heavy pairs of footsteps rustled in the gravel behind you. 

Absentmindedly glancing over your shoulder, assuming that it was just a sleepy wedding guest ready to go home, you instead spotted two big, rough-looking individuals that you didn’t recollect from the day’s festivities. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, your words ended up muffled as they rushed and closed the gap between you, one of them clasping a palm over your lips, nicotine staining the harsh flesh and burning in your nostrils. 

The cake and the keys tumbled to the ground with your backpack soon following suit as they grabbed you, lifted you off your feet and hauled you towards a close by dark van you hadn’t even blinked at before. You tried to get free, kicking and screaming in their grasp, but all your struggles granted you was the loss of both of your shoes.  

As they threw you into the back of the vehicle, the tumble itself onto the cold metal floor left you breathless and aching, the alarmed words, “what are you–,” escaped your lips just before one of the men stepped in after you and the other slammed the door shut. Sitting down on the small bench on the side wall, his hands dipped into a duffle bag as you squeaked, “let me go!” 

Not even casting a glance off in your direction, he just conjured a roll of duct tape as you soon felt the van begin to drive off. 

Leaning in, the man captured your wrists and began to bind them up. 

“This must be a mistake, I-I think you’ve got the wrong person,” tears rolled down your cheeks as he moved to restrain your ankles, “i-if you just stop and drop me off, I promise I won’t go to the authorities,” you trembled like a leaf on the grimy floor, “please, just let me go!”

“Shut up, bitch,” he shot back coldly. 

Casting a glance over your shoulder at the small window that looked to the driver’s seat as well as the night’s swallowing darkness they speeded into, you tried to ask, “w-where are you taking me?”

“I said,” the man looming above you growled before he tore off another piece of tape and forced it over your lips, “shut up,” soon following it up with a dark cloth bag that he tugged over your head.

Disappearing into the void, you had no idea how long the bumpy car ride took. Could have been an hour, could have been a day. The time was impossible to decipher as all you could feel was the paralysing terror that ravaged every inch of your being. 

But at some point, the van did roll to a stop and you heard the doors again be ripped open. 

A shrill yelp muffled against the tape as you felt numerous rough hands grab a hold of you and haul you out. Your balance was non-existent as your bound feet met freezing concrete, the bruising grips being the only thing holding you upright.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light after they ripped the dark hood off, a few strands of your hair following with them in the action. 

You were in a parking garage of some sort, but that discovery wasn’t what made you nearly faint. It was the familiar, suit-clad man standing before you with his ring-adorned hands shoved casually into his pant pockets. 

“Hello, doll.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[raster-rest]

➤ She calls me..

➤ She calls me-

➤ She sways in her velvet dress

➤ And pulls me towards her in the dark

◣◥◣◥◤◢◤◢

➤ While the others restㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➤ While the others rest ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ➤ While the others rest

███████████████████████████████████████

two more versions undercut

honestly it's firstly should be something with Thad/Uzi but it happens nobody pulls him in the dark tonight ;( but I do want to draw them-

[jollmaster]

she sways in her velvet dress and pulls me towards her in the dark

[letmehavemyfictionalmen]

Galactic Vows: chapter I

Summary: Within the walls of Aurorium's regal abode, murmurs of an imminent betrothal flutter like delicate wings. All eyes are on the princess, awaiting her response to the proposal, and the future of the kingdom hung in the balance. The weight of tradition, duty, and love rests heavily on her heart as she contemplates her answer, knowing that with one word, she will change the course of history.

pairing: Manda'lor!Din Djarin x afab!Princess!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Royalty Au, Unprotected sex, Violence, Death, Blood, Age-Gap, Fluff, Angst, Idiots in love, Flirting, possessive!Din, Powerful!reader, Dragons, Themes of war and political power, Trauma, Arranged marriage, Grogu being too cute you won't survive his cuteness, Emperor!Din.

next

The night sky is awash with a gentle radiance that filters through the trees, casting a serene glow upon the world of Asteralis. The moon, a divine lantern of the cosmos, illuminates the land with its soft light, transforming the darkness into a canvas of ethereal beauty.

The gentle beams filter through the leaves of the trees, painting intricate patterns of light and shadow upon the ground beneath them. It is a moment of pure tranquility, where the world seems to breathe in unison, and every creature seems to be in harmony with the peaceful night.

As the sun slowly descends beyond the horizon, the warm rays of its light embrace the land, a gentle kiss of warmth upon the cool marble tiles that lie beneath your bare feet.

The soft caress of a gentle, cool breeze envelops you, carrying with it the sweet aroma of blooming jasmine flowers. The fragrance fills the air, mingling with the subtle scent of the lush greenery of the royal gardens.

The petals of the flowers are as soft as velvet, each one a delicate work of art, and their fragrance is as intoxicating as the sweetest of loves. You inhale deeply, savoring the delicate fragrance that seems to embrace your senses, taking you on a journey of tranquility and calm.

Beneath your palms, the velvety touch of warmth embraces your lap, a comforting weight that brings solace. You sway gently on the swing, the rhythmic creak of the ropes harmonizing with the gentle rustle of the wind through the leaves. The enchanting moonlight illuminates Asteralis in a surreal glow, casting a magical spell over the kingdom. As you gaze at the mesmerizing sight, a wave of tranquility washes over you, lifting the weight of your princess duties off your shoulders.

"My jewel?"

The gentle whisper of your mother's voice calls to you, like a soft melody that slowly pulls you away from the tranquil cocoon of your thoughts. With a gentle turn of your head, you behold a regal figure standing in the doorway of your balcony. It is your mother, the Queen of Asteralis, and the very essence of her emanates an aura of authority and grace. Her attire is as majestic as the ruler that she is, every inch of her radiating the elegance and poise of a true queen.

Her eyes have an unspoken language of love, a depth of feeling that only a mother can possess, but also holds the weight of responsibility that matches her crown.

"What brings you here, mother?" You inquire your voice a gentle breeze that carries your words to her.

A playful glint sparks in her eyes as she makes her way towards you. "Must I have a reason to visit my beloved child?" she teases, her voice carrying the familiar lilt of affection that you have come to cherish.

The swing creaks gently as your mother settles down beside you, her elegant dress rustling softly against the fabric of the seat. You feel her gaze upon you, a weighty presence that studies your every feature with a deep knowing.

"Should I tell brother that you called me the favourite child?" You tease back, a mischievous smile gracing your lips.

The bond between you and your mother is one of love and laughter, a cherished connection that transcends the regal responsibilities that surround your life.

She chuckles softly, the sound carrying a hint of warmth. "Oh, he would be quite envious," she replies, her eyes glimmering with affection. "But my love for both of you is boundless and unwavering."

As the two of you sway on the swing, the gentle movement creating a soothing rhythm, you find comfort in this shared moment. The worries of the kingdom momentarily fade away, replaced by the simple joy of a mother and her child enjoying each other's company.

"So, my dear, have you heard the whispers in the halls?" she asks, her voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

Your curiosity piqued, you turn your attention fully to her, the warmth of her presence enveloping you. "Whispers?" you inquire, a note of intrigue in your voice.

Her eyes sparkle with a mix of excitement and tenderness. "There is talk of a proposal," she reveals, her words hanging in the air, filling the space between you.

You feel your heart skip a beat, a mixture of surprise and anticipation coursing through your veins. A proposal? The notion dances in your mind, weaving dreams of a future yet to be written. "Talks of a proposal?" Your voice trembles with uncertainty, the words lingering in the air as your mother's revelation takes root in your mind.

She nods gently, her eyes filled with a mother's wisdom and empathy. "Yes, my precious jewel," she begins, her voice carrying a soft cadence, "the Manda'lore himself has sent forth a proposal for the hand of the youngest Princess of Asteralis. It is a gesture that speaks volumes of his regard for our kingdom and his desire to forge a bond that unites our lands under a shared destiny."

You inhale deeply, the weight of the decision settling upon your shoulders. The moonlight casts a reflective glow upon the regal surroundings as if the very walls of the palace hold their breath in anticipation of your response.

"He is a leader of unwavering resolve," your mother continues, her voice carrying a mix of reverence and admiration. "His reign has brought stability to our people, and his unwavering dedication to the Mandalorian ways has earned him the respect of his warriors and the allegiance of neighboring lands."

Your heart skips a beat, a mixture of surprise and curiosity coursing through your veins. The Manda'lore? The legendary figure who commands the Mandalorian warriors with unwavering strength and honor. The very thought of a proposal from him fills your thoughts with a whirlwind of possibilities.

"He seeks a union that not only solidifies alliances but also lays the foundation for a future filled with unity and prosperity," she adds, her voice tinged with a mother's hope.

As she speaks, you find yourself caught between the weight of tradition and the whispers of your heart. The gentle breeze carries with it the fragrant scent of blooming flowers, their delicate petals mirroring the fragility of your thoughts.

"But, Mother, an arranged marriage? Is that what they're suggesting?" you inquire, searching her face for any hint of guidance.

Your mother's gaze softens, understanding the conflict that stirs within you. She reaches out to gently touch your hand, offering comfort and reassurance.

"Yes, my dear, it is an arranged union," she acknowledges, her voice gentle and soothing. "But it is not merely a transaction of power and alliances. The Manda'lore's proposal carries with it the potential for something greater. It is an opportunity to build bridges between our kingdoms, to forge a bond that goes beyond politics and secures a future of peace and prosperity."

Her words resonate within you, and you can sense the depth of her conviction. Yet, a part of you yearns for the freedom to choose your own path, to follow the whispers of your own heart.

"I understand the weight of duty, Mother," you say, your voice tinged with both respect and a hint of longing. "But what about love? Shouldn't that be a part of such a union?"

A contemplative silence falls between you, the moon casting its gentle glow upon the world as you both gather your thoughts. Your mother's eyes hold a mixture of empathy and understanding.

"Love, my precious jewel, is a complex tapestry," she replies, her voice carrying the wisdom of experience. "It can bloom from the seeds of friendship, respect, and shared dreams. The foundation of this proposed union is one built on trust and the shared desire for a better future. Love has the potential to grow within such a partnership, as two souls learn to navigate the intricacies of their hearts."

Her words resonate within you, and you find yourself pondering the possibilities. The moonlight bathes the surroundings in a serene glow, as if nature itself is urging you to listen to the whispers of your own heart.

"Ultimately, my dear, the decision rests with you," your mother continues, her voice gentle but firm. "You are the youngest Princess of Asteralis, and your happiness and fulfillment are of paramount importance. I will support you in whatever path you choose, whether it aligns with tradition or leads you on a different journey."

You take in her words, grateful for her understanding and unwavering support. The weight of the decision still lingers, but the seed of possibility has been planted within your heart.

"Thank you, Mother," you say, your voice filled with gratitude and a newfound sense of determination. "I will consider the proposal and listen to the whispers of my own heart. Whatever path I choose, I hope to honor our kingdom and our legacy."

Your mother smiles, a blend of pride and affection shining in her eyes. "I have no doubt that you will, my dear," she replies, her voice brimming with confidence. "Remember, you have the strength and wisdom within you to shape your own destiny. Trust yourself, and the answers will reveal themselves."

Emboldened by your mother's words, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. The night sky seems to shimmer with newfound possibilities, and you find solace in the gentle embrace of the swing.

As you and your mother continue to sway back and forth, you take a moment to reflect on the magnitude of the decision before you. The proposal from the Manda'lore holds the potential for great change, not only for yourself but for the kingdom of Asteralis.

You contemplate the vision of unity and prosperity that your mother spoke of, and you can't help but wonder if such a union could bring about a future where love and duty intertwine. The notion of love blossoming from a foundation of trust and shared dreams resonates deeply within you, and you realize that perhaps the path to happiness lies in finding a balance between tradition and personal desire.

With each passing moment, the night sky grows darker, stars twinkling like beacons of guidance. The moon continues its celestial journey, casting its ethereal glow upon the world. And as you sit on the swing, immersed in your thoughts, you begin to listen to the whispers of your own heart, knowing that it holds the key to your destiny.

The decision may not be an easy one, but with the love and support of your mother, you feel empowered to follow your own path, whether it aligns with tradition or veers in a different direction. You trust that, in due time, the answers will reveal themselves, and you will make a choice that honors both your own happiness and the legacy of Asteralis.

With a newfound sense of clarity and determination, you take one last gaze at the enchanting night sky, its beauty serving as a reminder that even amidst uncertainty, there is always a glimmer of hope. You turn to your mother, a silent understanding passing between you, and together you rise from the swing, ready to face the challenges and opportunities that lie ahead.

Hand in hand, you walk back into the palace, your hearts filled with love, trust, and the unwavering bond between a mother and her child. And as you step forward into the unknown, the night sky continues to watch over you, a tapestry of stars illuminating your path.

As the first rays of sunlight breach the horizon, a palpable sense of anticipation fills the air. The golden hues of dawn paint the sky, casting a warm glow that embraces the world with a gentle embrace.

The dawn chorus of birdsong weaves a melodious tune, adding to the symphony of excitement that stirs within the palace walls.

You step into the new day, the polished marble floors cool beneath your feet. Each breath you take is infused with a mixture of nervous anticipation and quiet determination. The sun's gentle caress upon your face feels like a reassuring touch, inspiring confidence as you make your way towards the throne room.

Approaching the grand entrance, the doors stand tall and imposing, intricately carved with symbols of the kingdom's history. With a steady hand, you push them open, revealing a world of regal splendor beyond.

As you enter, the room exudes an aura of grandeur. Soft sunlight filters through stained glass windows, casting a mosaic of vibrant colors upon the floor. The air hums with restrained energy, as if the very walls hold their breath in anticipation of the decision that awaits.

At the heart of the chamber, your older brother stands tall, exuding an air of authority, accompanied by his beloved husband, General Cadmus, whose presence radiates strength and loyalty.

Across the room, your sister stands gracefully, her regal stature accentuated by the presence of her husband, Lord Cedric, whose unwavering support is evident in his attentive gaze.

Upon the majestic thrones sit your parents, the King and Queen, their expressions a delicate balance of pride, love, and hope. Their presence commands respect, yet their eyes sparkle with warmth and understanding.

The hushed whispers of anticipation reverberate through the throne room, as all eyes turn toward you, the youngest Princess of Asteralis. The chamberlain, courtiers, nobles, and council members fill the opulent space, their presence a testament to the gravity of the moment.

You stand at the center, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves and meet the expectant gaze of your father, the King.

His voice, deep and resonant, fills the room as he addresses you with measured words, giving weight to each syllable. "My dear daughter," he begins, his eyes reflecting a mixture of authority and paternal love, "the time has come for you to share your thoughts and intentions regarding the proposal that has been laid before us."

You feel the weight of his words, the collective gaze of those assembled, and the weight of tradition bearing down upon you. In this moment, you draw strength from the teachings of your mother and the whispers of your own heart.

You take a step forward, the air is thick with anticipation, and a serene determination settles upon your features as you begin to speak.

"Father, honored members of the court," your voice carries through the room, its timbre steady and resolute. You take a moment to gather your thoughts, allowing the weight of your decision to settle within you.

"I have given careful consideration to the proposal put forth by the Manda'lore," you continue, your voice filled with a sense of conviction. "And after much reflection and listening to the whispers of my heart, I stand before you today to affirm my acceptance of this union."

A hushed silence fills the throne room as your words hang in the air. All eyes remain fixed upon you, waiting for your next words, and the anticipation is palpable.

"I understand the significance of this decision, not only for the kingdom of Asteralis but for the future of our people," you express, your voice carrying a mix of responsibility and determination. "It is my belief that this union holds the potential to strengthen our alliances and pave the way for a future of unity and prosperity."

As you speak, you feel a surge of confidence welling within you, fueled by the knowledge that you are making a choice based on a combination of duty, trust, and the possibility of love.

"I embrace this proposal with an open heart and a steadfast commitment to honor the traditions and values of our kingdom," you proclaim, your voice echoing with sincerity. "I am prepared to embark on this journey, knowing that it will require dedication, understanding, and resilience."

As the last words leave your lips, the room erupts into a symphony of emotions. The silence breaks, replaced by whispers, murmurs, and exclamations of surprise and approval. Courtiers exchange glances, their faces a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

Your brother, the Crown Prince, steps forward, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sister," he says, his voice filled with pride, "your decision speaks volumes of your wisdom and dedication to our kingdom. May this union bring forth the unity and prosperity we all strive for."

General Cadmus, standing by your brother's side, nods in agreement. "I have no doubt that together, our kingdoms will thrive," he adds, his voice resonating with confidence and support.

Your sister, radiant with joy, takes a step closer to you. "Little sister," she says, her voice filled with affection, "I am overjoyed to witness this moment. Your courage and willingness to embrace this path inspire me. May this union bring you the happiness and fulfillment you deserve."

Lord Cedric, standing beside your sister, places a hand on her shoulder and nods in agreement. "Our kingdoms shall stand united, and our families will share a bond that strengthens us all," he affirms, his voice filled with conviction.

The room buzzes with conversations, as nobles and council members discuss the significance of this decision. Your parents, the King and Queen, exchange a knowing glance, their eyes shimmering with pride and love.

Your father, the King, steps forward, his voice carrying the weight of his authority and the warmth of a father's love. "My dear daughter," he says, his voice resonating with pride, "your decision to accept this union fills my heart with pride and joy. Your dedication to our kingdom and your willingness to forge a path of unity and prosperity are commendable. May this union be blessed by the gods and lead us to a future of peace and harmony."

Your mother, the Queen, approaches you with grace and tenderness. She takes your hands in hers, her eyes shimmering with a mix of emotions. "My precious jewel," she whispers, her voice filled with love, "your strength and conviction inspire me. As you embark on this journey, know that you carry the legacy of Asteralis within you. May this union bring you fulfillment and the love your heart desires."

Tears well up in your eyes as you feel the overwhelming support and love surrounding you. In this moment, you realize that you have made a decision that aligns with your duty, your heart, and the aspirations of your kingdom.

As the throne room begins to settle, your father raises his hand, signaling for silence. The room falls into hushed anticipation, awaiting his next words.

"Let it be known," he proclaims, his voice resonating with authority, "that the youngest Princess of Asteralis has accepted the proposal of the Manda'lore. May this union bring forth a future of unity, strength, and prosperity for our kingdom."

The chamberlain steps forward, a scroll in hand, ready to record the momentous decision in the annals of history. With a steady hand, he begins to write, etching the words that will forever mark this day in the story of Asteralis.

And as the ink dries upon the parchment, sealing your acceptance of the proposal, you feel a surge of hope and determination coursing through your veins.

The path ahead may be filled with challenges and unknowns, but with the support of your loved ones and the resilience within your heart, you are ready to embrace this union and carve a future that blends duty and love, tradition, and personal fulfillment.

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

[queencj09]

(A flashback moment of a suckling love)

Elvira: ‘She sways in her velvet dress’

Ophelia: ‘And pulls me towards her in the dark’

Elvira: ‘While the others rest..’

Ophelia: ‘While the others rest’

Elvira: ‘While the others rest..’

[deathtothesoul]

A New Night Chapter 4

Ryane and Quinn stepped into the funeral home. The floor was empty, and the lights were dimmed. A large velvet curtain hung in the room and two chairs were set out waiting for them.

"Oh, no..." Quinn chuckled, with a huge smile spread across his face.

"What?" Ryane asked.

Quinn just laughed and sat in one of the chairs. 

Ryane sat next to him and waited for what was to come.

The lights went out, and a single spotlight appeared on the curtain. An energetic pop beat began pulsing out from the speakers, and the curtains parted. Lucas stood with one hand on his hip, looking dramatically off to the side, wearing a red sequin dress and high-heeled black boots. 

"Oh my god!" Ryane laughed. 

Lucas turned his head towards them and winked. His makeup was incredible. Ruby red lipstick shimmered on his lips. He had red eyeshadow spread neatly across his eyelids. In addition, he had jet black eyeliner and mascara on to enhance the look. His hair had been straightened and brushed to the side.

"Natalie did a wonderful job," Quinn commented.

Ryane managed to nod between gasps of laughter.

He strutted forward with all the poise of a runway model and posed. A camera flashed from the back. Natalie was taking pictures as he posed and strutted. 

He ended with a short dance and a twirl. Ryane and Quinn stood to give him a standing ovation. Lucas bowed dramatically. "Thank you! Thank you!" he said.

He walked over to Quinn and Ryane, grinning. "Well? What did you think?" 

"You actually look really good!" Ryane giggled.

"I know," Lucas said confidently, flipping his hair.  

Natalie came to his side and gave him a hug. "You did amazing!" She squeaked.

"No. You did amazing!" Lucas said, kissing her.

She giggled.

"You really did," Ryane echoed.

"Thank you."

"Now, let's hit the club!" Lucas said, snapping his fingers and grabbing a small red purse. 

***

They walked into the club. A few people stopped and stared at Lucas. He just smiled flirtatiously, and they turned away, embarrassed.

A friendly pair of blue eyes greeted Lucas. A large, broad-shouldered man stood waving frantically with their long shiny hair bouncing and their beard covered in glitter and confetti. "Oh, my god! You look amazing!" he yelled loudly so Lucas could hear him over the electronic music from the speakers. 

"Thank you! My girlfriend did it!" He smiled, bringing the stranger in closer and pointing in Natalie's direction. 

“Oh wow! She's super talented! You look stunning,” they said, empathizing each syllable with a clap. 

Natalie giggled, her heart feeling elated. "Thank you! That means a lot to me. Seriously, thank you!” 

Her eyes swelled with tears of happiness. Ryane noticed Natalie's eyes getting glossy and leaned toward her. "You okay?" Ryane asked, concerned. 

Natalie smiled warmly, wiping her eyes on her wrist and nodding. “I'm good. It's just really nice to see people being so openly supportive and kind. Humans really have come a long way." 

"Well, I think we found our new hang-out spot!" Ryane said, bumping Natalie gently on the hip with her hip. "Now, let's dance!" 

Natalie didn't need to be told twice. The four went out onto the dance floor. Natalie grinded against Lucas. Ryane aimlessly hopped around, and Quinn swayed awkwardly.

Ryane found a pair of blue glow stick shutter shades and picked them up. "Quinn!" she said, tugging on his shirt.

"What?" he asked.

She yanked him down and put the glasses on him.

"What are these?" he asked.

"They make you look cool!"

"They do?"

"Yeah!"

"My word, fashion really has changed," he said as he went back to swaying.             As they danced, Lucas felt a shiver run through him. “I’m gonna grab something to drink,” he said.

Natalie nodded and took Ryane’s hands in hers and pulled her over to dance.

Lucas made his way through the crowd and into a dark alley. He leaned against the brick wall and opened the dating app, and began scrolling through the vulgar messages he received.

            “Wooo! Look what we have here,” a voice called out mockingly.

            Lucas looked up to see two men standing in front of him. They looked no older than their early twenties and wore wrinkled button-down shirts and jeans. One had short, dark brown hair, and the other had a buzz cut.

            “What’s a little thing like you doing out here dressed like that?” The one with the buzz cut sneered.

            “I’m busy,” Lucas said coldly.

            “I’m sure you are, pervert,” the other hissed, leaning in towards him. 

Lucas let the one with brown hair push him against the wall.  

"You like that faggot?" the man sneered.

Before Lucas could extend his fangs, a voice thundered. "Hey! What's goin' on here?"

The second man turned. "None of your business."

“It certainly is my business! You can't just go around pickin' on someone cuz they're different! He’s not hurting anyone!”             Well, not yet, Lucas thought.

“Now get out of here!” the bearded man continued.

Lucas stealthily swiped both their keys from their pockets and dropped them in his purse. 

"You gonna call the cops?" The man with the buzz cut laughed.

The man lifted his shirt, revealing a gun. "I'll be calling the funeral home."

The guys immediately backed up and walked away. The man turned to Lucas. "You okay?"

Lucas nodded. "Yeah. Thank you."

The man paused, looking Lucas up and down, and got misty-eyed.

"You okay?" Lucas asked, tilting his head to the side.

The man swallowed and nodded. "You just remind me of my older brother, is all."

"Uh…thank you?"

"He really was something else. He had a heart of gold and…" he paused. "Sorry. I'll let you get back inside."

"It's okay. You can tell me about him," Lucas offered. 

The man smiled gratefully. "He was the kind of person who always went the extra mile. If you needed a cup of flour, he would buy you a fresh bag."

"What happened? Why did you say 'was' and 'had'?"

"He…uh…took his life because he was like you, and we grew up in a family where that wasn't allowed. But he…he couldn't help it."

"Oh, my god…I'm so sorry," Lucas said sincerely.

The man sniffled. "Listen, you take care of yourself, and don't let anyone tell you who you can or can't be! If they try, you cut them out of your life first chance," he said firmly. "Understand?"

Lucas smiled gently and nodded. "Yeah. Understood."

Natalie came outside. "Lucas?" 

"Over here!" He called.

Natalie hurried over, her heels clicking on the concrete.

"This is my girlfriend," Lucas said.

The man politely dipped his head.

"Tell her what you told me, word for word!" Lucas said. 

"I said, don't let anyone tell you who you can or can't be! If they try, you cut them out of your life first chance."

Natalie smiled and blinked away a few tears. "Thank you," she choked. 

"You two stay safe now!" He said.

Lucas and Natalie walked back inside. "What was that about?" she asked.

Lucas told her about the men who tried to assault him. “I’m gonna find Quinn, and we’re gonna hunt them down together.”

“Alright,” she said.

Lucas found Quinn and pulled him aside, and filled him in. Quinn took off his shades and put them on Ryane. “I’ll be back in a moment, darling,” he said, kissing her on the cheek and leaving.

Lucas and Quinn enter the dark parking lot, scanning the vehicles ahead of them. The lot was mostly empty except for two or three cars. Lucas used the key fob attached to the keys he stole earlier on to find the car the two assholes arrived in. Quinn and Lucas made sure the coast was clear, and Quinn hid behind the car, unlocking the trunk. Lucas leaned up against the vehicle in plain sight, waiting for his abusers to take the bait. 

It wasn't long before the two slimeballs slithered their way over to their ride. The duo gave off an offensive odor. They reeked of booze, sweat, and cheap cologne. Their loud, obnoxious, and snide laughs could be heard as they approached Lucas. "Look who it is! It's the little faggot from earlier." 

"Where's your redneck boyfriend, faggot?" 

Lucas stared at them, unfazed. "You two done being dickheads yet?" he said flatly. 

"What did you say, you little bitch?" The drunk raised his fist to strike Lucas, but he darted out of the way, easily dodging his attack. Unfortunately for the drunk man, his blow landed hard on the car window, smashing it to pieces and cutting his hand up. "FUCK!" the man yelled. 

Quinn appeared like a shadow behind the second man and slit his throat. He drank from the gushing wound. The man's blood was bitter from alcohol.

Lucas swiftly snapped the other one’s neck and sank his teeth in, sucking him dry.

“Uck.” Quinn dropped the nearly drained corpse. “Ryane tastes so much better.”

Lucas withdrew his fangs. “I bet,” he said.

“How was that one?” Quinn asked casually as they stashed the bodies in the trunk.

“It was okay. He had a lot of alcohol in him too. I did get a hint of ginger.”

“Interesting,” Quinn said, closing the trunk. “I’ll send for Travis so he can pick up the bodies.”

As they walked back into the club, Quinn called Travis.

“What?” Travis groaned.

“There’s an abandoned blue sedan in the parking lot behind Illumination. You might want to pick it up in the morning.”

“Alright, Quinn,” he sighed. “Anything else?”

“Nope!” Quinn said quickly and hung up.

They went back into the club and danced until nearly the break of dawn. Lucas and Natalie stopped by the car and got the brains before heading home. 

Want more?

A New Night on Amazon

A New Night on Wattpad

[minaharkerdailymirror]

I've seen the light Coming through the blinds I close my eyes I don't care if you think it's wrong I'm gonna sleep all day long The sun goes down: This is my wake up call

This just seems very strange to me That her quiet lonely streets Draped in all the mystery Could be so sweet and comforting 'Cause the night She calls me

She sways in her velvet dress And pulls me toward her in the dark While the others rest

[jleo-enthusiast]

“This is a ballroom-” “Ah, I can’t wait to have a ball.” “I’m already having a ball here, Joe, I’m with you!”

🥺🥺🥺🥺

[purplefox-writes]

Tom in Paris (T.M.R x singer)

Summary: Tom is exploring the muggle world and ends up in a jazz club in Paris, where he meets a sultry jazz singer.

Word-count: 1200

Content warnings: none

Tom stood in front of the unassuming entrance of a jazz club in the heart of Paris, hesitant to enter. He had never before stepped in such muggle establishment, but his growing fascination with their world had led him here. With a deep breath, Tom squared his shoulders, determined to take this first step into the unknown.

As Tom entered the jazz club, he was hit with a wave of warm, smoky air. The lighting was low and intimate, casting a golden glow over the patrons who lounged in plush velvet booths and at the bar. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, perfume, and cigarette smoke, and the room hummed with the low murmur of conversation and laughter.

"Bonsoir, monsieur," greeted the French hostess with a warm smile. "Une table pour combien de personnes?"

“Bonsoir. It’s just me. May I sit at the bar?" Tom replied, feeling a flutter of excitement in his chest.

"Of course, follow me, sir," the hostess said, leading Tom to a prime seat at the bar with a direct view of the stage. "Is this to your liking?"

Tom met her eyes. "C'est parfait, merci beaucoup."

Tom sat at the bar, slowly getting lost in thought as he took in the atmosphere. The sultry notes of the saxophone filled the air, and he felt himself swaying to the rhythm.

His eyes were drawn to the stage, where a beautiful singer stepped in front of the microphone. She wore a slinky red dress that hugged her curves, and her long, dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. As she began to sing, Tom felt as if the room fell away and he was transported to another world. He listened to the slow song about heartache and longing.

Her voice was smooth and silky, with just a hint of raspiness. He watched as she closed her eyes and swayed to the music, her body moving in time with the beat. It was as if she was lost in the music, and Tom found himself mesmerized by her.

"Excusez-moi, monsieur, would you like a drink?" the bartender's heavily accented English pulled him out of his reverie.

Tom turned to him and nodded. "Sure. What do you recommend?"

The bartender leaned forward, a twinkle in his eye. "I have just the thing," he said, reaching for a bottle on the top shelf. He leaned towards Tom as if indulging him in a secret. "It's not even on the menu."

He poured a small glass and place it in from of Tom, who took a sip and savored the smooth, smoky flavor. It was unlike anything he had tasted before, and he felt a warmth spreading through his body. The wizarding world could not hold a candle to the exquisite beverages of the muggle world, he pondered.

And then, his eyes fell upon her beautiful petite singer, her voice wrapping around him like a warm embrace. She was like a vision in red. Her voice was like some kind of magic, a spell that he was powerless to resist.

As the song came to an end, the room erupted in applause. Tom joined in, feeling a sense of awe and wonder. Her eyes met his intense gaze and he inclined his glass to her in a silent toast.

With a sultry smile on her lips, she made her way through the crowd and over to where Tom sat at the bar. As she approached him, Tom felt his heart race with anticipation, his eyes locked onto hers.

"Bonsoir," she said, her voice low and seductive.

"Bonsoir," Tom replied, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes fixed on her figure.

"I couldn't help but notice you during my performance," the singer said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Tom felt a flush of heat spread across his cheeks, but he couldn't look away from her. She was like a siren, pulling him closer with each passing moment.

"You have an incredible voice," Tom said, voice steady.

The singer chuckled, leaning in closer to him. "Thank you," she said. "I couldn't help but notice the way you were looking at me. Do you have a name?"

"Tom," he said.

The singer smiled, running a hand through her hair. "I'm glad to meet you, Tom. “Je suis Amélie."

Amélie. It was like music to his ears.

"So, Tom," Amélie purred, her voice low and seductive. "Would you like to buy me a drink?"

"Of course," he said, gesturing to the bartender.

The bartender quickly poured Amélie a glass of champagne, leaving the bottle in the ice bucket on the bar. Tom watched as she took a sip, her eyes locked onto his.

Running her finger along the rim of her glass she asked. "What brings you to this part of Paris?"

Tom hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to reveal too much about his true intentions in the muggle world.

"Just exploring," he finally said, trying to keep his tone light.

Amélie raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Exploring? That sounds interesting. What kind of exploring?" He brought her glass to her lips, her eyes never leaving him.

"Oh, just trying to broaden my horizons," he said sipping as well from his glass.

Amélie chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "Well, I can certainly help you with that,"

"Is that so?" Tom said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Amélie chuckled, her fingers trailing over Tom's hand. "Oh yes," she said, a sly smile on her lips. "I know all the best spots in Paris. The hidden gems that most tourists never get to see."

As the jazz band played on, Amelie leaned in closer to Tom, her eyes fixed on his.

"So, Tom, you’re a man of mystery, aren't you?"

Tom chuckled, trying to keep his guard up. "I suppose you could say that," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "I'm just a man trying to live in this world," he said, his eyes dropping to her hand.

Amelie chuckled, her fingers trailing over Tom's hand. "Aren't we all?" she said, a sly smile on her lips. "I have a poem I'd like to recite to you."

With a sense of curiosity building within him, he gestured: "Please, go ahead,".

Amelie smiled, her eyes locked onto his, and began:

"Mystery unfolds,

Life's secrets lie hidden deep,

Unseen, yet felt whole."

"That was beautiful, Amelie, thank you”, Tom whispered, kissing the knuckles of her hand gently.

“It's a haiku, a type of Japanese poetry," Amelie explained. "It's typically composed of three lines, with the first and last lines containing five syllables and the middle line containing seven syllables."

"But it's not just a poem. It's how I feel about you right now."

"By the way, I'd like that," Tom said, his voice a low murmur.

“What that might be?” she asked.

“To explore the city together”, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Amélie leaned forward in her seat, her face so close to his that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. "Then it's settled," she said, I'll show you all the best parts."

[abbysfrenchbraid]

hiii, could u do this sentence with sevika?: ”i've seen the way you look at me when you think i don't notice“ thanks and get well soon! <3

thank you for your request!

Sevika x gender-neutral reader, cw alcohol

You carefully balanced the tray on one hand, knocking on the door with the other. It was a gamble every time. Sometimes they heard you, sometimes the music was too loud. The Last Drop was filled to the brim tonight, laughter and the low buzz of a bass guitar filling your ears. The smoke was so dense you couldn’t see to the other side of the room. After a few seconds, you knocked again, harder this time.

The door was ripped open and one of Silco’s goons barked “What?!”

“Special order.” You rolled your eyes. If that asshole didn’t hurry up, you would still feel your wrist tomorrow. “For the boss.”

He let you through with a grunt. Sevika sat on the sofa, knees spread wide, leaning back against the worn leather. A cigar was dangling from the corner of her mouth as she studied her cards intently. You allowed your gaze to linger for a moment. She was a sight to behold, dressed in skin-tight brown leather and her red cloak. She didn’t even look up when you placed the aluminum tray on the edge of the table, careful not to disturb the laid-out cards. Three men were sitting on chairs around the table, leaning forward on their elbows and practically drooling with excitement as they waited for their boss to make her next move. You could practically feel the power radiating off Sevika as she calmly sat up and knocked some ash from her cigar into a tray.

You replaced the empty liquor bottle on the side with a new, corked one. It was filled with an orange liquid, her favorite. When you turned around to hand out the pints of beer you had brought along, everyone’s gaze quickly jumped up your body to meet your eyes. You swallowed down a snide remark and silently pushed the beer into their hands. Then you grabbed your tray with the empty bottle and left the room. Behind you, the players yelled in frustration as Sevika led a trump and won the round.

Later, as you were handing out shots of cheap spirit, you saw the henchwoman leave the back room and make for the toilets. Even after a bottle of liquor she still stood like a column, stone-cold and unwavering. Her cloak swayed behind her and allowed a peek at the perfectly pronounced V of her abs. You left your colleague alone at the bar for a moment, mumbling something about storage, and followed Sevika into the dim corridor.

You had no idea what you were planning, but it felt as if there was a magical pull drawing you after her. The women’s bathroom was just one room behind a closed wooden door. You debated waiting outside, but it felt too obvious. You entered the storage room at the back of the hallway and grabbed another bottle of Sevika’s favorite liquor, then you slowly walked back toward the toilet again. Just as you passed the door, it swung open. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Hey.” Sevika’s voice was dark red velvet. You turned to face her, fiddling with the bottle nervously.

“Hi.” You cleared your throat. “Having a good night?”

She leaned against the door frame, fixing you with her gaze. “Keeps getting better.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, giving her a shy smile instead. When you finally turned to go back to the bar, Sevika’s hand grabbed your wrist.

“I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice.“ Her voice was even lower than before, her hand warm on your skin. You turned to face her.

Slowly, she pulled you closer, until your chest was pressed against hers. You sighed and knew she would feel your breath on her face.

“Tell me I’m wrong and I won’t mention it again.”

Her eyes were dark, her breath smelled like tobacco and heavy, herbal liquor.

“And what if you’re right?”

Suddenly courageous, you pressed in closer. Sevika lifted your wrist to her mouth and gently bit into the muscle beneath your thumb before soothing the spot with a kiss. Her eyes never left yours.

You took a quick look down the corridor, then you took a step forward and pushed Sevika back into the bathroom.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 5 of ?)

gif by my literal angel @michaelgreys who keeps blessing us like holy fuck

a/n: all i can say is that this is the hottest one yet. as always, my girl @stxdyblr-2k did an amazing job so i hope you all enjoy :) and i'm still working on requests, tysm for all of them!!

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland

prompt: john just can't help himself when he sees you with someone else.

warnings: nsfw!!! smut, fluff, angst, light praise kink, john fucking adores you and spends a good amount of time with his head between your legs (yes i know!!!!!)

John had spotted you from across the London nightclub, his table tucked into the balcony area, perfectly positioned to survey the entire club. It'd been over a month since he laid eyes on you last. Sometimes, he wondered if it was possible for you to only get more beautiful every time he saw you. He wasn't surprised, as he'd been warned of your presence by Tommy, but he was unable to stop himself from staring at you, hair neatly styled, scarlet velvet dress clinging to every curve, red lipstick emphasizing your lips, a light haze of pink pressed into your cheekbones, lash-line expertly darkened with kohl. You were dancing with one of Isaiah's friends; the young man was tall and muscular -- a blinder foot soldier, John concluded, draining his glass of whiskey, flagging the waiter down for another.

The young lad was smiling down at you. John took a swig from his drink bitterly, the man obviously head over heels, his eyes bright, excitedly glancing from your lips to your figure. John could feel himself cringe; the younger man had all the subtlety and strategy of a malnourished dog. Then again, who could blame the lad? You were an absolute vision, twirling and giggling, off your face on something Michael had brought. John couldn't help but watch, wishing it was him who had caught your attention tonight, wanting to feel your breath fan across his neck, pulling away while you giggled at his blushing arousal; him whisking you to dark corners to steal a moment of quiet.

He'd tried to get over you but he couldn't. He'd been travelling a lot lately, business in Liverpool, Edinburgh and Belfast; yet in every woman who smiled at him, he found himself searching for you in their eyes, their smiles, their laugh. They were all gorgeous, but his heart simply wasn't in it.

Tonight had started off alright, normal Peaky activity. They'd seized the club only a few hours ago, gaining vital territory in London, bagging their place in the opiate trade and a successful business prospect in one fell swoop. By all accounts, John should’ve been happy, but he'd been too lost in his own mind lately to properly take in the consequences of those sleepless nights with the accounting books, all the hours practicing shooting and boxing, all the endless driving, the meetings, the lingering stench of death which clung to his family. Try as he might, he couldn't enjoy himself. His night got worse the second he spotted you; a yearning for you suddenly flooding his veins. It was easy to get on with life when you were hundreds of miles from him, but when you were a flight of stairs away? He knew the club had countless dark passages to hide away with you, multiple cloak rooms with thick brick walls to take you against: he had to stop his mind running wild. He couldn't. That had to be the last time. You were in his past, you had to stay there. But as he watched you dance with the blinder, he could feel the familiar burn of jealousy swell deep within him. The lad was far too close to you for his comfort, practically grazing his hips to yours. John roughly rubbed his jaw at the sight, silently seething to himself in the shadows.

Thomas studied his brother's body language, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, not understanding the fuss around you. Sure, you were pretty enough; you were bright, apparently funny, but you had never caught his attention really. He observed how John's eyes followed your every move, every sway of your hips closely watched as he held his breath, losing himself to you. He was glad he'd prompted Michael to invite you; this was the most attentive he'd seen John in a month. It was no coincidence that he'd dragged you away from Birmingham, from the watching eyes of the city locals, the wagging tongues in the assembly lines, far from Ada. Michael had admitted to Thomas that it was easy to persuade you, promising you a lift in his new car and a night out as Ada had plans with a gentleman. A night of dancing with your favourite lads and an all expenses paid trip to London? You couldn't resist.

John's jaw had tensed and squared, the man murmuring something against your neck causing you to giggle and grasp his collar. Thomas could tell his brother was practically bristling with jealousy. If looks could kill, the young man clinging to your hips would be long dead from the glare unleashed on him by the tallest Shelby brother.

"You gonna sit there useless or are you gonna fucking do something about it, eh?" Tommy inquired, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I can't."

"No one will know." Thomas pointed out, raising a brow, "The Blinders will say fuck all if they see owt. They keep quiet when it's about us Shelby brothers, yeah?"

John glanced at him, eyes slightly widened, confusion furrowing his brows. "You've changed your fuckin' tune."

"Sometimes, it's good to have secrets. What Ada doesn't know about the events of tonight won't hurt her."

"We don't do secrets. We're meant to trust each other." John objected. "We're a family."

"Nothing will change, John. I'll fix it for you, yeah? You've had a rough few weeks, you should reward yourself."

"She's not a fuckin’ prize, Tom."

"Keep talking that shit and people will get the wrong idea, think you love the woman or sommet." Thomas shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, while John's cheeks flared, his eyes flinching to the floor. He smirks to himself. "You going to go get your lass, then?"

John replied wordlessly, standing and downing the rest of his drink, pulling on his suit jacket, straightening his collar. "I'll catch you later, Tom."

********

The lad was nice, his name had long disappeared into the fog of liquor and Tokyo. He was someone's cousin, but he was polite; charming, almost. Most importantly, he wasn't related to your best friend. Not quite a Casanova type like John, but you two were a good match, everyone thought so. You'd seen him a few times now over the past week. He wasn't much of a talker, but he was a good dancer, and sweet after a few pints.

The band started playing a slower song, Isaiah dancing chest to chest with a beautiful girl across from you. You felt your partner place his fingers on the small of your back, his fingers inching lower, pulling you in closer before the two of you were interrupted by a dark figure looming over you.

"Can I cut in, mate?" A strong Birmingham accent sliced through the air, voice low and polite enough, but with a tone that was laced with venom. "Or are you gonna be a dick about it?"

The lad glanced nervously between you two, moving his hands away from you, embarrassed to be caught by his boss in this state, John staring him down. You slowly pulled away from him, turning to face John.

"Or you could ask me to dance yourself, John?"

John silently glared back at you, his mouth tensed into a thin line. He looked momentarily embarrassed, his attention switching back to your dance partner, the rest of lads silently watching, breaths baited, ready to jump in on the action if the moment required it.

"I'm heading off mate, reckon she's a cocktease." Your partner comments, attempting to diffuse the tension, stepping away, not wanting a fight or to piss off his boss. His path was quickly blocked by another blinder. You shot him an apologetic look and took the large hand John was offering you.

"Or, she's just not interested in you," John quipped, smirking, locking his fingers through yours. "You gonna go get your coat while I finish up with your best mate?"

"Thought we were dancing?"

"You can dance as much as you like in the suite, yeah? Proper gramophone. You coming?"

"You just want me on my own."

"Just tired of the distractions." He told you pointedly, skimming his glare over the group of men, standing with baited breath, preparing for it to kick off.

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hands, slowly heading to the cloakroom, chatting with the attendant as you watched John confront the lad, keeping your distance. His arms were clutching the lad's lapels, snarling in his face before pushing him back. Michael watched from a few steps away, smoking absentmindedly, spine pressed to a pillar, leaving his cousin to sort out whatever offense he believed the man had caused.

You bundled yourself up in your thin coat, a gift from one of the girls you hung around with as she had recently married a blinder and was being spoiled rotten. The coat's flimsy material was going to be useless against the London night. At least you could count on John to keep you warm on the walk back to the hotel. You headed towards the side door, John's hand quickly finding your lower back protectively as he fell into step beside you. He opened the heavy wooden doors for you, the cold air an instant relief from the heat of the nightclub. You turned back as the door closed, catching a glimpse of the boys closing in on the lad, their eyes gleaming with a violent hunger for action.

"He'll be alright. Daft prick just getting put in his place." John said flatly. He seemed bored but watched you anxiously, begging you with his eyes to drop the subject.

"Is the hotel close by?" You asked casually, as the frigid air swirled around your calves, instantly causing you to shiver.

"I'll get us a cab, love, can't have you in those heels trekking halfway across London town." He stepped fearlessly into the road, unbothered about any potential danger or just forgetful from the whiskey. Quickly, a dark cab pulled up to the cobblestone pavement and John helped you in, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing in after you.

As the engine started and the car made its way through London's dimly lit streets to Camden, John's hand found its way to your thigh. You glanced at him, his eyes looking away but his thumb angled against his teeth. He was nervous, having not touched you in a month. You crossed your legs, angling them towards him, his hand shifting higher up your thighs, taking a deep sigh of relief. Your hands found his chin in the gloom of the back of the car, only the occasional bright lights from a nightlife hub or the demure lights of a residential illuminating his face, the angles changing as the cab drove on. It was too much. You'd been needing this for the past month, needing him. Your hands laced around the back of his head and you pressed your lips to his for a brief moment, allowing John to pull you deeper into the kiss. It awoke something familiar inside you, something comforting. Kissing John erased all your homesickness. Christ, you had to stop thinking like this.

"You've not been about for a bit, sweetheart. I know we said never again, but I was hoping you'd come by," John muttered, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours as he spoke.

"I almost did. The amount of times I nearly visited your office.. I just couldn't do that to you or Ada. Besides, last I heard, you were on tour." You admitted, keeping your voice down to save the cab driver the embarrassment. John caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, tracing the corner of your mouth, prompting a grin from you.

"Last place on earth I'd expected to see you next, it's been hectic my end," He sighed. His eyes were outlined with deep purple smudges of exhaustion, yet he was still devastatingly beautiful even after all the sleepless nights. "It's been too long."

"Not my fault you've been hiding yourself away. You should've called."

"Blame Tommy for that. His solution seems to be sending me on business trips. Trying to make me too tired to handle you." A nervous lick of his lips revealed John’s response to the suggestion that he call you. He wanted to say he would ring next time, but there couldn't be a next time.

"You can barely handle me on a good day, Mr. Shelby."

"Can't blame me. You seen yourself? On the brink as soon as I see you, lass." He teased, earning a gentle shove to the shoulder as you quickly pressed a kiss underneath his chin. You wanted to bring up Thomas' threat, but you bit your tongue, nudging his shin with the toe of your heel in the back of the cab. He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrists lightly. "Behave yourself in front of the nice cabbie, sweetheart."

You soften at his touch, unable to resist reaching to interlock your fingers, squeezing his hands in yours affectionately. The spirits your table had been bringing you all night definitely boosted your confidence, any hesitancy due to potential rejection drowned out. John pressed his lips to your knuckles in response. He seemed different tonight, far more protective and serious than usual. He was so quiet it was strange, usually yapping your ear off, desperate for you to react, treating him to a giggle, a middle finger or a cutting response. You'd also never witnessed him spark off due to someone's interaction with you. Finn had mentioned a week or so back that John had a shouting match with Thomas and in the moment, your name got thrown up in the conversation, resulting in John taking a swing at his big brother out of frustration. It was confusing. He was willing to start fights over you, punch his brother, yet when you two were alone he was uncomfortably quiet, studying you, lost in his thoughts. His silence only made your body long for him, his fingers tracing patterns in your inner thigh. You let out a small whimper into the crook of his neck, as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

The car pulled up outside the hotel, your pulse racing, the anticipation already threatening to make you give in completely to his wishes tonight. You waited as he turned up his collar against the rain, clambering out of the car to open your door, creatively arranging the coat to hover just above both your heads protecting you from the miserable weather. Although John had referred to the building as a hotel, you could instantly tell the manor was some aristocrat's third or fourth home, obviously being rented out or gifted to business partners for trips. It was an imposing grey stone building, exquisitely carved, although not a country estate, the house was just as large. Was John used to this? It hit you all of a sudden that you'd never set foot inside John's home. You'd heard from Ada that it was overrun with hoards of screaming children. She often joked with the children at the Shelby Institute that if they hung around long enough at John's, he'd assume they were one of his offspring. You'd only ever fucked him in a guest bed. The shame made your stomach churn.

You needed to remind yourself of this when your late night thoughts ran rampant. John could say what he liked, but he'd never actually allow you to get overly personal with him. Whatever confusing mess was winding around your skull regarding him was useless; it was best not to think about it. You went to him every time, yet he would've picked another lass tonight, it was just that you were there. He probably had a string of gorgeous women, older, more accomplished, more experienced, more elegant. He could tell you he missed you, but you could never take for granted that he told you this for any other reason than as a prelude to get you in bed with him. You were his gorgeous mess, but only for the night. It was best to remind yourself to care less than he did. It was the easiest solution in the long term; this way, the downfall would be less brutal.

"You alright, love?" He asked suddenly, breaking your train of thought.

"Sorry, I was thinking about work."

He lived around his brothers for long enough, he could smell bullshit. He decided to let it go. It was best to not push it tonight. Just keep it light hearted, easy, like it was always meant to be.

"If your boss keeps being a prick, you tell Ada. She'll sort him out."

"Don't I know it? He can barely open the door before she starts on about workplace ethics." You joked, earning a small smile instead of his usual bright chuckle. "John, what are we doing here?"

"Well I'm about to take you upstairs and sort you out, yeah? You gonna let me look after you?" He asked, stopping you in your tracks by turning you into him, grabbing your wrist.

"You know that isn't what I meant."

"I know. But can we leave it tonight? Can we just have fun?" He questioned, lips ghosting over yours, fixing you with an intense stare.

"It's fun anymore." Your voice cracked, the liquor in your system making it impossible to control your tone or your facial expressions. "It's fucking with my head, John."

"It's just.. fucking difficult. It's fucking difficult because of who we are." He replied firmly but dropped his makeshift coat shelter around your shoulders, freeing his hands to grab your face pulling it to his, the alcohol making him far needier than he usually appeared. "You, my beautiful Y/N, are a fucking losing game. It's not as easy for me, I can't just dance with a woman and get a leg over-"

"I never said you couldn't."

"I know, I.." He gestured vaguely, lifting one of his hands off your cheeks, and you can feel your head nodding in understanding. "You know, I thought I was going to manage it this time. That I wouldn't be a total fuck up, but then you and that lad-"

"Catch you getting jealous over me."

"Fuck off." He let go of you for a split second but you reeled him back in, resting your palms on the chest of his shirt, the soaked material sticking to his skin. You'd struck a nerve. You decided to push him further.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, Mr. Shelby, disappearing across the country for weeks then coming back and telling me you want me all to yourself?" You played with his collar, tugging his face to yours before pulling back at the last possible second, causing him to let out a frustrated groan, hands itching to feel you underneath them.

"Don't fucking wind me up," He snapped, the intensity between you rekindled momentarily.

"It's worked wonders in the past," You replied, barely able to finish your sentence before his mouth was on yours, his fingers tangling into your hair, kissing you properly. Although you'd kissed so many times prior, this one felt so genuine, as though unleashed from its restraints deep within John. You'd never kissed anyone in the rain before in the middle of the night, and it felt magical. You were shivering but hot all over, burning for John to do something, anything. You could feel his cock through his dress pants, hard against you, prompting you to moan into his mouth.

"Fuck’s sake, Y/N," John grunted into your ear, his hands grabbing at your arse. "You're fuckin’ killing me here. I need you, yeah?"

"Tell me how badly." You responded coyly, linking your arms around his neck, ignoring the late night drizzle.

"I'd rather show you. M’gonna take care of you tonight, make up for the month I've been gone."

"Who's saying I've not been taking care of myself?'

He bit his lip in frustration, trying to stop his mind running wild with the image of you in bed, fingers between your thighs, breasts moving as you arched your back, hips lifting off the mattress, moaning as you called his name -- his jaw clenched. "I know what you're doing. You coming up before you catch a chill?"

You shifted your weight away from him, as if considering your options. He knew your answer; you both knew in a few minutes you'd be upstairs practically tearing his shirt off, needing his skin against yours, begging for him. John pulled away from you, dragging you up the winding path to the front door of the manor, opening the door for you, arm wrapping around your waist. His lips met yours, then your collarbones and neck, prompting a breathy giggle and whine as you wound yourself back around him, craving the contact. The manor was plunged in darkness, staff somewhere in the gloom. Your arrival had definitely been noted, but as with everyone who worked for the Shelbys, they just left you to it. It was easier to not get involved, to keep their heads down and not mention the midnight trysts the brothers got up to.

John knew his path, he'd stayed here before. Even in the dark you could tell the house was decorated to spare no expense, the gaudy paintings and sculptures casting strange shadows. He led you up the grand flight of stairs, then another.

"Worse than Thomas' estate, this place." You murmured quietly, unsure of other guests within earshot.

"I could never live like this. I'd never see my brood again. Getting them ready for bed would be one hell of a nightmare." He whispered back, halting your stride by pulling your hips to his, unable to wait any longer.

"John, what if we get caught?" You asked, pressing your hand against his chest with your palm flat.

"Never bothered you before. Thought you liked the fact that anyone could just walk in and see what a pretty little mess you’ve made for me."

You couldn’t help yourself from pressing an affectionate kiss to his mouth, letting him lay you down and pin you to the stairs, the luxuriously thick carpets scraping into your flesh. He cursed under his breath at the sight of you underneath him, pushing your dress up your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his neck, pressing a kiss to your flimsy underwear, glancing up to drink you in. The most beautiful woman in his city, begging for him, figure swamped by his coat, rain soaked and shivering, his mouth between her thighs. He ran his tongue slowly across your clothed core, your pleading moans music to his ears, loving how your thighs tightened around his neck. His tongue traced circles over your clit and labia, the friction generated by the lace of your panties pushing you further, your hands knotting into his hair, spine arching against his mouth.

"No one been looking after you while I was gone. eh?" He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh, tugging your panties to the side. "What about your dancing pal?"

"Fuck’s sake, I barely know him, John." You snapped back, teetering on the edge between lust and frustration from his relentless teasing.

"Keep it that way. You don't need ‘im, lass, not while I'm about." He replies before lapping at your slit, interpreting your moans as approval as your head slumped back and you released a low groan. "Y/N, watch me, yeah?"

You pull yourself weakly upwards, propping yourself up in your elbows to be able to look down the staircase at John between your legs in the dark. The view was thrilling, moonlight shining in through the rain on the window, illuminating his face, hair messy and tongue flickering across your clit while he stared up at you, his eyes darkened with lust. You couldn't help but pant, knowing you'd be returning to this moment alone at night, when it was your fingers instead of John's tongue pushing you towards the edge.

"So fuckin' wet and ready for me, aren’t you?" He crooned, sliding his fingers into you, sucking at your clit between flicks of his tongue.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, whimpers leaving your mouth instead, your hips lifting beneath his palms, chest heaving.

"Go on, use your words, clever lass."

"John, fuck.. don't stop," You manage to string together, thoughts too muddled by alcohol and arousal to play hard to get any longer.

"I won't ‘til you cum in my mouth. Need to taste you again, beautiful."

Your head jerked back suddenly as John curled his fingers inside you, pushing up against the spot that made you lose your mind, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, all he could hear except from his blood rushing in his head. Your desperate cries for relief caused his cock to strain against his dress pants, fighting the urge to sort himself out, needing to finish you off. John needed to prove that he could fuck you better than anyone else. He knew he was pushing you to the edge, but he wasn't going to deny you your orgasm. He wanted to make a point with this. His fingers worked faster, his mouth hungry for you, lips moving against your core at a harsh pace.

You groaned loudly, hips bucking involuntarily just to be forced back against the carpet of the staircase. Your breaths grew heavier, warning him how close you were to your peak. John refused to let up, pushing you closer every second, lips latched to your core firmly, lapping up the wetness he'd produced.

"I want to watch you finish." He commanded, you completely at his will now that you'd lost control, lifting your head upwards with the little strength you had left to be able to stare down at his dilated blue eyes. "Good girl. You gonna show me how good I make you feel? You gonna cum for me, doll?"

You couldn't respond, unable to keep your eyes from rolling backwards as you felt yourself suddenly release, John’s name escaping from between your lips, legs shuddering around his neck. He let you ride it out on his tongue, tasting you desperately, watching your expression slowly relax.

Finally, he pulled away from your cunt, unwrapping your legs from his neck. He grabbed your wrist, not letting you retrieve your panties, stuffing them into his trouser pocket. He returned his attention to tracing your slit with the index finger and thumb of his other hand, as he pressed a long kiss to your lips.

"I love how you taste," He murmured against your lips, causing you to flush slightly. John noticed, pressing kisses to your jawbone. "Don't get shy on me now. I've barely started with you. Not even got you to the suite and you've already cum."

He looked so proud of himself, it suddenly clicked for you. He was trying to prove himself to you, for some unknown reason. You know he was protective and quite obviously jealous tonight, but you couldn't believe that John Shelby felt the need to prove that he knew what he was doing, as though you weren't aware. You weren't trekking to his office for mediocre sex. Tonight he let you finish first, no teasing, no denial, no fucking about. Just putting his ability fully on show, so when your mind went drifting it'd go back to him, not some young lad who barely knew what he was doing. His cocky attitude and smug acceptance of his sexual prowess would've been off-putting if it was anyone else, but John, but with his bright smile and constant humour, pulled it off. It was enticing, making your core pool with wetness when he crossed your mind.

"A month is far too long, Mr. Shelby."

"I know, you're practically drooling over me." He teased. He seems a lot more himself than before. He’d been too caught up in his head, too focused on getting you off to enjoy the flirting and teasing. John loved how light-hearted he could be with you. Despite the mess you were both in, it was making you laugh or roll your eyes that soothed his mind. Honestly, if it was just sex he'd have cut you off instantly; he wouldn't have even gone there out of loyalty to Ada. Admittedly, it was your company and presence that had him absolutely on his knees for you, the way he felt understood, less alone in his brother's bullshit, less trapped by his criminal career because you understood. You always had a cutting line, a bright smile just for him, an eye roll at his brothers' daft plans, a choice curse word for Thomas. He didn't even want to consider what would happen after the night ended. He stood, pressing another kiss to your lips as he helped you to your feet, fixing his coat which hung off your shoulders.

"You ready for rounds two through to six?"

"John, you know you won't get through three with me."

"You’re right, you're just too pretty when you’re riding my cock." He teased, the vulgar material of his jibe earning him a joking shove before you curl into his side, letting him escort you up the stairs to the nearest bedroom. He quickly shut the door behind you, scooping you up in his arms, causing you to let out a laugh as he practically tossed you onto the king sized bed, eyes shining with adoration as he looked down at you grinning back up at him.

“You’re something else, John Shelby.”

[rafescoke]

hi ! i'm obsessed with your work ! <333 can i request a rafe cameron x reader

the reader is always there for rafe when he's sick or in trouble but rafe doesn't really show any reaction or gratitude from the reader's affection - but when reader goes sick (or nosebleed) he immediately begins to worry/make sure reader is okay. basically fluff !

August ; Cupcake! Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Read Cupcake if you haven't before you start this fic!

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: In which Rafe cares more for the girl he likes rather than himself.

Warnings: Extreme fluff! Mentions of alcohols and drugs, Rafe Cameron being a complete sweetheart

A/N: After a week full of nothing but angst I've decided to give y'all what y'all have been screaming for; fluff. Thank you for all the love over my stories, I love you more than anything else in the world <3

p.s, I'm so sorry @blank-velvet if this isn't what you had in mind :(

"Hello, beautiful."

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, giving him a side smile as she locks her front door. "You're late today."

Rafe pouts, pulling her into a hug as he breathes into her scent. She doesn't smell like cupcakes anymore, thank god, because he can't take another few hours of flashbacks of him whisking the batter.

Turns out, the children's home becomes a fortnight habit for the both of them. They would bring so many cupcakes for the kids and spend the new 2 hours chatting and playing games.

Rafe hates to admit this, having to show the soft side of his, but he likes it. Every single bit of it; children telling him he's the best person in the world and how they like his frosting over (Y/N)'s because his were more 'unique'.

"Are you thinking of another girl?" (Y/N) teases, poking him by his side. Rafe looks down to her height with a shocked expression and shakes his head.

"Never."

"Yuck," she replies, but she's smiling. She keeps her hands in his, loving the way his fingers are wrapped around hers. His metal rings knock against hers, and she can feel the slight tightening every time the light turns red.

She wishes she can assure him that she'll never leave his side, no matter what happens. She knows how hard his life is for him, dealing with his family and his addiction, and she swears to be in his life until he's okay.

"I don't want you to leave once I'm okay."

"I don't mean it that way, Rafe. I'm just saying that if you decide to find anyone else after this whole bullshit ends, I'll be fine."

Rafe shook his head, "I don't want anyone else, (Y/N)."

"Now you're thinking of a guy," Rafe rolls his eyes playfully, turning into a corner before stopping directly before a fancy restaurant (Y/N) can't roll her tongue to call it. He steps out, helping her to her feet, and proceeds to give his car keys to the butler.

"You don't have to pay 30 dollars for valet parking," (Y/N) rolls her eyes. "I'm perfectly fine with walking a long distance, you know."

"Not in that heels," Rafe answers, pointing to her pink mules. "You'll get your dress dirty too."

Rafe escorts her to their table by the beach with her arms in his, and the couple never looked so beautiful. Rafe's hair is left messy today, since (Y/N) likes it that way, and anything that (Y/N) likes, Rafe will try to obey.

"We can eat at Fraiser's and I'll be happy, Rafe. This is too much."

Fraiser's is Obx's famous burger shop located in The Cut, and sometimes even the kooks would come down to the other side of the island to enjoy the food.

(Y/N) stares at the beach, hearing its calming waves and turns to Rafe. He's still admiring the view, his lips pulled into a charming smile, and (Y/N) has the urge to kiss him.

"I want to," he says. "I'm glad we met."

The candle burns brightly by the side of their table as he gazes into her eyes, feeling himself getting lost in them. Her (E/C) eyes are mesmerizing, and it had struck him.

"Stop. You're getting all mushy mushy."

The dinner is perfect. To (Y/N)'s surprise, Rafe had requested her favorite song to be played by the band earlier. When the starting melody to August by Taylor Swift starts playing, she's basically gaping at Rafe.

"Shut up! You did not!" she hits him on his arms as he laughs.

"I thought you'd like it," he shrugs, stuffing his mouth with the garlic bread. "Do you like it?"

"Are you crazy? I love it, Rafe!"

Before Rafe can process his mind to what she just said, she pulls him into a hug from the other side of the table, and the other diners glance at the sudden sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor and clanking of cutleries.

Rafe relaxes, "You're embarrassing us."

She pulls away, her face red, but Rafe holds her tightly.

"It's okay. I like it. Embarrass us even more, please."

(Y/N) feels like she's in heaven, soaring high above the clouds with Rafe by her side. Her life can't be more perfect; being in a close relationship with the boy he likes, doing so many things together she feels like they were married already.

Keyword: close relationship. He never proposes her to be his girlfriend, and she's too afraid to bring it up.

But whatever they're having now; she loves it. More than anything else in the world.

"Let's go to the beach."

"Okay," she giggles, gathering her clutch and her forgotten shoes somewhere under the table. She feels like leaving them, but the heels were one of the many presents from Rafe a few weeks ago, and she intends to keep them until the day she dies.

She stops, placing the clutch against his chest. "Have you paid?"

Rafe looks up to her, "Nah."

"Go pay."

"No."

"Rafe!" she widens her eyes, closing her mouth with her hands. "They'll catch us!"

"Not if we act like we've paid. Come on, they know me. They wouldn't suspect me of fleeing before paying."

She bites her lips nervously, but her heart is thumping wildly against her chest. Fleeing away from paying is never on her bucket list, but she always likes watching these kinds of scenes on the big screen.

"Okay. Fine."

"Okay, sweet. Come on."

He pulls her hands in his as he walks towards the exit. The waiter close to them bows, giving them his thank you, and when (Y/N) feels like they're safe, a loud voice from behind them shouts.

"Sir! Madam! Have you paid?"

(Y/N)'s grip around Rafe's hands tighten, but Rafe is a natural at lying. She wonders if he ever lied to her before.

"We have, a few minutes ago. This is a very bad moment for me and my wife, we are catching a flight back to Paris in an hour and you're wasting our time."

(Y/N) looks at him, gawking. His wife?

(Y/N) isn't sure if his lie would get them out of this situation, because his fake British accent does not sound anywhere near British and no English couple would spend their summer in a place like Obx.

The manager, (Y/N) assumes takes a step back, bowing down to them. When he looks up at them, he still has the curious glint in his eyes.

"Can I get your name?"

There's a long silence between them, and (Y/N)'s getting more and more nervous. "Coke." she blurts before she can stop herself.

"Coke?"

"That's her nickname, right, my love? It's not coke, my dear, it's Cookie," Rafe sighs and turns back to the manager. "I'm sorry. She had had a few drinks tonight."

"Sir," the same waiter that had muttered his thanks to them says, standing beside the stern manager. "They haven't paid."

"Run!" Rafe exclaims, running towards the exit with (Y/N) in his trail. There are shouts behind them, but they don't stop, running for dear life until the music from the band playing sounds a distance away.

Eventually, the gravel turns into sand, and they stop running. (Y/N) is the first one to laugh, throwing her head back and pulling him into a hug.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, Rafe, that's the best thing that has ever happened in my life!" she exclaims, placing her arms around his neck. The adrenaline from before is still flowing at a fast pace, and she never felt more alive.

Rafe smiles, catching his breath. He let her in his arms, smoothing her locks and lifting her slightly from the ground.

"Let's go in the water!" she says excitedly, pulling him towards the waves.

The cold saltwater pools around their ankles as they stand in the water, intertwining their fingers. (Y/N) looks up at him, watching as he stares at the darkness ahead.

She looks in the direction he's gawking at and sees the silhouette of a huge boat somewhere in the distance.

"What's wrong?" she asks, tugging at his hands.

"Someday, (Y/N), I'll bring you around the world."

She smiles. Always the charmer, that one.

"Rafe!" She suddenly shouts, bending down and letting the water soak her dress. "Something bit me!"

Rafe snaps back to reality, holding her in place and trying to find the mysterious creature in the water. Can a piranha get this far?

"I don't see-"

(Y/N) cuts him off by splashing the water at him, and he steps back with a shock.

"You'll regret doing that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not feeling anything."

"Get ready."

"For what?"

Rafe splashes her with a larger amount of water and uses the stalling time as she gasps and tries to get away from him by pulling her down into the water.

"This," he laughs, watching as she screams playfully. She's between his legs now as they sit peacefully, letting the water soak their expensive clothes.

"I'm sorry I'm ruining the dress you bought for me."

"It's okay. It's just Dior. Besides, I'll probably ruin it by-"

"Later," she cuts him off, placing her pointer on his lips to silence him. "Let's just watch the ocean."

And Rafe obliges.

A walk back to your home doesn't take long when you're in love. (Y/N) has Rafe's hands in hers, swaying them back and forth as they skip back to her apartment.

"I'm not going to be responsible for your car if it goes missing, Rafe."

He smiles, "It's okay. I have insurance."

She's on cloud nine; singing along to August and letting Rafe twirl her around under the night sky full of twinkling stars.

"I love this," she whispers, stopping midway. "Thank you, Rafe."

"For what?"

"Being the best."

He kisses her cheeks in response, "Always."

Just before they can continue their walk back to her apartment, a familiar blue mustang pulls up beside her, and Rafe pulls her to his other side in reflex.

He waits until the car window pulls down, revealing a half-drunk boy with his black hair messily slicked back.

(Y/N)'s breath hitches, and she pulls Rafe closer to her.

"What do you want?" Rafe sighs. "Can't you leave her alone?"

"Rafe," she whispers, pulling him in alarm. Out of all the time in the world, her ex-boyfriend decides to surprise them after a good night full of good memories.

Jack ignores Rafe and stares at (Y/N), smiling in a taunting way. "Hey, (Y/N), why are you all wet?"

"Rafe," she pulls him again.

"Come on, I'm just asking," he laughs. "I thought you liked getting wet."

"Fuck off," Rafe says, gritting his teeth. His chest heaves with every breath he takes, and he longs for the moment to connect his fist with his smug face.

"Aw, come on Rafe, you used to be so fun," Jack fakes pout, sighing. "Now you're all up in her ass. Does she feed you bone?"

Rafe steps forward, but (Y/N) quickly pulls him back.

"Does she beg you to go to the some children's shit too?"

Rafe stalks forward again before (Y/N) can help it, and launches Jack's car door open. He topples over from leaning over and not wearing the seatbelt, and Rafe uses the chance to throw him on the road.

"Wanna talk shit again, asshole?" Rafe yells, pushing him as he staggers backward. Jack clutches onto his chest, holding a hand up and moving backward.

(Y/N) cries, waiting for Rafe to come back. As Rafe turns away to go with her, Jack takes the free time to bring him down to the road again and throws a punch against his face.

"Jack! Let him go, please!"

Rafe groans, feeling his bones cracking, but he's too fueled by the snickering Jack had made toward (Y/N). He turns him over and continues his punches against the thrashing boy.

(Y/N) pulls Rafe's arms, not wanting him to get hurt, but the pull is so strong that when he finally lets go of Jack, she topples backward and falls straight on her bottom.

He gushes out beside her, "You're okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you!"

Jack scatters into his car again, muttering a curse word under his breath and saying something along the lines of 'I'll get back at you, Cameron' before speeding off into the night.

(Y/N) groans, rubbing her legs and turns to Rafe. She gasps, holding his face in her hands. "Oh my god! Your nose, Rafe!"

Rafe grunts, pushing her hands away. "I'm fine. It's just a nosebleed. You scraped your thighs!"

"Just the side of them," she mumbles, glancing at the ripped part of her used-to-be beautiful midnight blue dress. "Let me see your nose."

"No."

"Please."

He sighs and lets her examine his broken nose. His eyes are red, and (Y/N)'s sure there's some kind of a broken blood vessel in there, and there are bruises starting to form under his eyes.

To compare with her pain, Rafe is a hundred times worse.

"Jesus Christ, we have to get you to the hospital."

"No!" Rafe exclaims, pulling her hands away from his place. "No, please. I hate hospitals, you know I do. Let's just get home."

(Y/N) sighs, knowing there's no way she can win this fight against Rafe and helps him to his feet. She staggers backward, feeling the sudden pain coursing through her from the gash on her side.

"Oh god, you're losing so much blood."

"No, I'm not. I'm perfectly fine. It's just a scratch," she bites her lips.

"Let me carry you." he stops her.

"No! You're an idiot. If anything, I'm the one who's supposed to carry you," she rolls her eyes and turns to look at him again. "Rafe, you're crying blood. Let's get to the hospital."

"I'm not, I just drink too much red wine."

"It doesn't work that way. Please, Rafe? I'll be there with you the whole time."

Rafe sighs, and after a long time of thinking and weighing his options, he nods.

"If they start telling me to open my clothes, I'll head out. I will only remove my clothes from you tonight."

He can still joke around at a time like this?

(Y/N) bites her lips, "You will do exactly what the doctor says."

"You're my doctor," he shrugs. "Be my doctor?"

(Y/N) decides, with Rafe limping beside her, walking towards the hospital will be the stupidest idea ever. She orders an Uber, and before the driver can ask why they're booking to go to the hospital at 11p.m. on a Friday, he speeds away when he sees the sight of Rafe.

"It's not too late to just go home," Rafe mumbles against her neck. Her hair tickles his nose, but he likes it like that.

He feels safe. Protected.

"We're not sleeping in my apartment tonight."

"Can I still make love to you in the hospital?"

"We'll think about it."

(Y/N) pays the driver, muttering her thanks, and attends to a groaning Rafe again. One of his eyes is shut, and the other is fighting its best to stay awake.

The EMTs grab a wheelchair for Rafe as soon as she pulls him in through the automatic door, and when (Y/N) finally lets go of him, he shouts over the loud orders of the workers.

"She needs to stay with me or I'll die!"

One of the technicians looks at (Y/N), and she sighs. "I'm sorry. We got into a fight, and I think he's just not thinking straight right now."

She nods and asks (Y/N) to wait for him in the waiting room.

Half an hour later, with a coffee from the 24 hours cafeteria near the emergency room in her hands, the doctor finally calls for her attention. She stands up, her dress sticking to her bloody wound, and she winces from the pain.

"Why didn't you tell us!" the doctor sighs, pulling her into the same room he brought Rafe in. Rafe isn't in there, and (Y/N) can't help but search around.

"He's okay. He's sleeping. He's suffering from subconjunctival hemorrhage. It's nothing serious, really, but we decided to keep him under our watch for one day."

(Y/N) nods, slightly relieved, and let the doctor removes her skirt so he can take a better look at her wound.

He clicks his tongue, "What's your name?"

"(Y/N)."

"Okay, (Y/N), we called for your boyfriend's parents and they'll be here in an hour. Do you have any parents I can contact?"

"I'm okay. I'm not suffering from any hemorrhage."

The doctor sighs, "I know. But you just confessed to being in a fight, so I have to get the parents involved. It's protocol."

Fuck.

(Y/N) mumbles out her brother's phone number, and she hopes against hope he's out with his friends and getting drunk so that she wouldn't have to face her family.

"Okay. Do you want to see your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend. But yes, I want to see Rafe."

(Y/N) holds out his hands as she sits beside his sleeping form. She smiles, grazing her fingers across his soft skin as he breathes peacefully.

"I'm awake now."

She pulls her hands away, gasping slightly at his tired voice.

"Come on, hold me again."

She rolls her eyes, but her fingers are around his again. "We look so corny."

"I know. Wanna know something cornier?"

"What?"

"Take that thing out of my pocket. No, not that, that's my dick, (Y/N), my pocket, yes, yes, take that box out."

(Y/N) holds out the small box in her hands, letting the white light from above illuminate the box. Her face is still red at the mention of accidentally touching his private part, but she's more intrigued by the box now.

"Open it," he says softly.

(Y/N) hesitates, and pops the box open. She gasps, having a small diamond glinting back at her.

"Do you like it?"

"You did not, Rafe, oh my god."

"Wear it. Wait, fuck, I messed it up. Wait, wait, let me just-" he sighs, trying to sit up, but (Y/N) stops him midway. "Would you like to be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?"

She looks up at him, her eyes teary now, because God, no one has ever done this to her.

"Would you?"

"Of course, asshole, even when you're asking me in the middle of your deathbed."

He smiles, "Okay. Now you can put the ring on."

She slides the ring on her ring finger, holding her hand up and admiring the way the ring compliments her hands.

She loves it. More than anything.

"Oh, and they called Ward and Rose. I'm sorry it's going to be your first time being my girlfriend and meeting them."

She laughs, leaning over him and placing a longing kiss on his lips. He kisses her back, feeling so much better now he can walk out of this hospital.

"You're like a princess. Nursing me back to health. None of these Harvard graduate doctors can compare to you."

"Urgh, shut up," she rolls her eyes. "Now you're pushing it."

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

[lostinfic]

You know I'm no good

Hardy x Hannah | 450 words | Suggestive themes Inspired by @gingerteaonthetardis 's moodboard 💛

This is by far the stupidest thing he’s ever had to be a part of: mixing in with the crowd, undercover, at some posh sex party.

Pretentious smut, he reminds himself, feeling out of his depths. But there's a killer at large, and if there's a chance this will protect people, he'll take it.

“Just pretend to be one of them voyeurs,” his boss had said.

Still, there is something undeniably enticing about the glow of the candlelight against the honey-colored stone, the chimes of champagne glasses, the brush of satin and velvet and silk on his touch-starved skin as he walks through the room.

When he sees her, she’s sitting on a widow seat, a book in one hand, a man’s head between her legs. She takes her eyes off the page and looks back at him. His heart stutters. She loses her composure for a fraction of a second but it’s enough to know she has recognized him.

Shit, she could blow up his cover. Blow up his whole life. He’s tried to stay away from her, to resist, he really has this time.

Hannah grips the anonymous man’s hair and raises her hips to meet his mouth. Hardy swallows thickly, but he can’t look away. A phantom flavor teases his tongue. She never breaks eye contact with Hardy, not even when she comes.

Later, when Hannah brushes by him, she slips something in his hand: a key, engraved with a room number.

He walks through the dim corridors in a daze. There are hands on him. Champagne bubbles burst against his teeth. Heat flows beneath his skin. Memories of her wash over him.

The room is mostly empty safe for a Tudor chair, dark wood engraved with patterns that will mark his skin. A coil of thick rope rests at his feet. Not a lifeline. He’s in too deep already.

“Nice suit,” she taunts.

"Nice dress."

She isn't wearing one. She’s wrapped only in midnight blue and charm.

“I’m on duty,” he says.

“Me too.”

She walks towards him. Heels on stone, swaying hips and ruby lips.

“Han…” A weak protest.

“Shhh.”

He sits down obediently and looks up at her with his big brown eyes.

“You’ve tried so hard, working and working, helping others,” she murmurs. There's a rhythm to her words that feels like an incantation. “It’s okay. You’ve done so well.”

She runs a hand through his hair, nails skimming his scalp. Shivers of delight run down his spine. The moon to his ocean, she pulls something deep inside of him. His eyes flutter shut.

“Now won’t you be good for me?”