#but also like. win's FACE in the last gif. he has NO IDEA what's going on he doesnt even know WHAT to say HE'S JUST SO CONFUSED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

libraryofloveletters · 7 months

Text

Hallways Hold Our Secrets

Jack Grealish x Fem!Reader

Warnings: reader is rodri's sister, secret relationships, jack is sooo nervous, they're terrible at hiding their relationship, big brother!rodri, awkward family dinners, alcohol and the consumption of, some cheekiness from jack and some brotherly teasing from rodri.

Word Count: 3.9k

Author's Note: I cannot believe it took me so long to write jack. also shout out to pooks for the basis of this idea + this gif has literally nothing to do with the fic. jack is just sexy that's all (also look at my other mans in the corner even tho I be wanting to beat him up sometimes)

---

The message pops up on the top right corner of your laptop, you're certain it appeared on your phone as well but you're hoping he doesn't notice it.

Can I call you?

You click on it, typing back a response; I'm with him. Can it wait?

His reply comes just as fast; Just for a minute, I wanna hear your voice.

You shut the laptop, leaving it on the kitchen table. "Just gonna borrow this for a minute," you tell your brother as you grab your phone off the counter; he had been using it to get the recipe for dinner tonight since his was charging.

Rodri smiles, nodding. "Sure."

You disappeared around the corner, clicking the contact that frequents your call log. It barely got rang twice before he answered.

"Hi love," he sighs, as if he had dropped down to the couch. You smiled to yourself, leaning on the wall in the hallway. "Hi you."

"I miss you," he says, the words tugging on your heart. You could imagine the pout on his lips; coincidentally, also his favourite pose when he takes selfies.

"I saw you today, Jack." Your response comes out as a whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

"I know, is a man not allowed to miss his girlfriend?"

Once again, his words bring a smile to your face; girlfriend. That's what you were, even if it was a secret.

"You are," you smile.

Jack sighs, picking at his cuticle before he speaks again. "I wish you were here, I could use the company."

Man City had faced their first loss in a while. After being on a winning streak and the return from the treble winning season, this one hit them especially hard. To lose at home was even worse, it dug into them, rightfully so.

All of the boys were in a bad mood, Pep digging into them about what went wrong didn't help either. You had waited outside of the locker room in hopes of catching a quick moment with your boyfriend but he walked out with your brother who was more than ready to leave.

"Hermanita! Come taste this!" Rodri shouts from the kitchen and you sigh. "Me too, but another time, okay? I have to go."

"Yeah," Jack sighs, "I love you."

"Me too," you smile, hanging up before slipping your phone into your pocket. You walked into the kitchen, a smile on your face as your brother held the spoon out to you.

You tasted it, nodding. "It's good, needs a bit more pepper though."

"I thought so too," he nods in agreement, adding the rest of the chopped peppers that were sitting on the counter. "Where'd you go?" He asks as you return to your spot at the kitchen table.

"Needed my hair tie," you fib and his brows furrow. Your heart pounds in your chest when you notice his look, praying he didn't over hear your conversation. At the moment, it didn't occur to you that you had taken your phone with you and your lie made no sense.

"Your hair is untied."

"Yeah," you nod, "I couldn't find one."

Rodri nods, dismissing your words as he goes back to dinner, trying to finish up the last of it. Eventually he joins you at the table, your brother sits across from you, picking at the leftover pasta on his plate. "So, are you seeing someone ?"

You freeze, nearly choking on your juice. "What? Why would you ask me that?" You rubbed at your chest, looking at him with what you were certain was a confused look.

He shrugs, stabbing a piece of pasta. "You're 25, done university.. just seems like time to move on."

Your brother's displeasure with the last guy you dated was not something that he hid very well. He was a grade A douchebag, snotty and stuck up; when you look back, you wondered how you put up with all of his nonsense. You two dated from your second year of university up until right before your graduation.

During your last semester of university, you had taken a week off and came down to visit your big brother in Manchester. The break up was getting to you and it seems like everything around was a constant reminder of your wretched ex.

Rodri had taken you along with him to one of their home games, having you watch what your big brother does up from the stands as if you were 12 again, and afterwards you had gone down to find him and meet some of his teammates.

That was the first time you met Jack.

The two of you clicked instantly; a match made in heaven. From your personalities, to your sense of humour, to the way you dress and down to the way you texted were identical. You suited each other to a T.

It seems you two figured out as much as you went from not knowing each other to speaking every single day after you left Manchester.

Your older brother was aware that you and Jack were friends, but he didn't think much of it. He saw that you got along with quite a few of his teammates, which made him very happy.

What he didn't know was that you and Jack were more than friends.

Jack had come down to visit you during one of your off weeks. He didn't mention it to Rodri nor did you. The two of you decided that it would be your little secret until you've finished university and you can decide what to do from there.

It was just easier this way, there weren't any complications or strings attached if you decided to split up at the end of your semester.

You didn't realize that you'd find yourself in Manchester nor did you expect to fall in love with the midfielder so quickly.

Nodding, you clear your throat. "I will."

"I'm just happy you're over him, he was shit." Rodri says, clearing the table. You can't help the laugh that you let out, leaning back in your chair.

---

Match day; your favourite day.

The Etihad was full from top to bottom, the crowd cheering their names, hoping that the team brings home a win. To nobody's surprise, they managed to bring home a win and four points.

You had gone down, waiting for your brother as they got cleaned up after the game. You were taking a photo of their treble wall, all the photos of them smiling and celebrating with their trophies.

The familiar scent of his cologne makes you smile, you can hear his footsteps and you figure he'll appear next to you, not pinch your hip and scare you.

"Dude!" You jumped, swatting his hands away. Your boyfriend smiles, his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

"It's just me, relax," he whispers, chin on your shoulder. As the words leave his mouth, you melt against him; you can feel the warmth from his body, the mix of cologne trying to mask the sweat from 90 minutes on a pitch usually disgusted you but with him, it was tolerable.

Jack spoke, pulling you from your thoughts. "What are you doing out here?"

"Taking a picture," you lifted your phone to show him, flipping the camera to take a photo of the two of you. Both you and Jack make his favourite face; that duck face and then another one with you two smiling, and one more of him kissing your cheek.

His fingers mindlessly drumming against your stomach, looking at the photos on the wall when you snapped back to reality.

You weren't in your little bubble of safety with him; anyone could see you, your brother could see you.

It seemed unreal that you were 25 and still sneaking around, hiding your relationship from your big brother but it would be easier if you weren't dating his teammate.

You stepped away from Jack abruptly, the man's brows pulled together and there's a confused look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Someone could see us," you step further away, creating some distance from the two of you. Jack looked even more puzzled than he did before.

"And that would be the worst thing because.." He trails off, looking at you. You roll your eyes, leaning on the wall as you look at him. "You know, 10 would look much better on you." He nods towards your jersey, there's a cheeky grin on his face and you roll your eyes yet again.

You had worn your brother's jersey, as you do most match days. "16 looks perfectly fine on me, thank you for your input."

"You'd look sexy in a plastic bag, babe. Just saying 10 would be better on you."

You don't get a chance to answer, your big brother comes around the corner. His hand rests on Jack's shoulder, patting it firmly before slinging it over his shoulder.

"What's going on here?" Rodri looks between you two and you shake your head. "Just saying hello to your sister," Jack says, smiling at his teammate.

Rodri hums, nodding as he glances between the two of you. "Did y/n ever tell you about that chocolate cake she makes?"

"No," Jack shook his head, "I don't think so." - A total lie. Jack has had that cake so many times before and you had even gone as far as giving him the recipe, which was a secret.

"Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow? I'm sure y/n won't mind making it, would you?"

You shrug, "yeah I don't mind, but I'm sure Jack has plans."

You glance between your brother and boyfriend, wondering what the sudden dinner invite was about. It wasn't that Rodri and Jack didn't get along, because they did. It just struck you as odd because it's not one of the guys Rodri typically hangs out with outside of work related events.

"I don't," Jack smiles at you. "I'd be more than happy to come over. Should I bring something?"

"No, man. Don't worry about that, come over for 8."

"Sounds good," Jack nods, smiling as he walks off.

You look at your brother, arms folded over your chest. Your eyes narrowed on the man, trying to figure out his motive. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Rodri asks and you nod towards Jack. "The dinner invite."

"I can't invite my teammate to dinner?" Rodri's brows furrow, looking back at you.

"You can. Just find it odd, considering that you and Jack aren't close like that."

He shrugs, "just felt like having some company over. Other than your ugly face of course." There's a smile on his face as he looks at you. You pinch his side, the man pulling you into a headlock as you two walk down the hallway.

---

Shirt covered in butter, flour and eggs and you had finally put the cake into the oven to bake. Your phone buzzes once on the counter as you tidy up. It buzzes again, then again and again.

Finally, you set the rag down and walk over to check who it was.

From Jack: Babe!!!

From Jack: I'm freaking out bro

From Jack: I don't know what to wear

From Jack: *1 Image Attachment* Should I wear this??

The series of messages left you confused, as did his outfit choice. Jack had sent you a photo of the ugliest Gucci shirt he owned and there were quite a few of them in his closet.

To Jack: That is the ugliest shirt I've seen in my life.

From Jack: That's fucking rude

To Jack: Also why are you freaking out?? It's just dinner.

From Jack: Can you please just come help me??

To Jack: I have a cake in the oven

From Jack: So ??? Please come. It's an emergency.

You sigh, walking down the hallway to your brother's room. You knocked, waiting for them to answer before you peek into the room.

"I ran out of sugar and I need it for the icing. I'm gonna run to the store, can you keep an eye on the cake? It's got a timer running so just take it out when it's done."

Rodri nods, trying to make up his bed "Sure, don't be too long. It's almost 7."

"Yeah, I'll be back soon." You picked up his car keys off of his dresser. "Love you!" You called as you walked out of the room.

"Drive safely!" He shouts back and the front door slams shut.

It was a 15 minute drive to Jack's place, the elevator ride up felt like longer and you tumbled through your purse to find the key Jack had given you to his apartment.

"Where are you?!" You shout, setting your bag on the table, kicking your shoes off.

"Bathroom!" He calls back and you find your way to the bathroom. Jack's back was to you, shirtless and quite tanned for a guy living in Manchester. You find yourself leaning on the wall, watching as your boyfriend tumbled through one of the drawers for something.

Jack chuckles, "I can feel you staring."

"So?" you smiled at him when he turned to face you. "I can't stay long, so what do you need help with?"

He walks over to you, his arm looping around your waist. "I can't kiss my girl hello?" He asks, leaning into you. His cologne overpowering any other scent, the familiar smell made your head spin.

"You can," you smiled, holding his jaw gently as you kissed him. "Okay come on though, let's pick something out." You hold his hand, pulling him back to his bedroom.

Jack sits on the bed, watching as you search through the closet for something for him to wear. "I really don't understand why you're so freaked out for dinner. You've had dinner with Rodri before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but at work stuff. This is different."

"How so?" You set a few choices on the bed. "I'm sure he's gonna be in sweats, Jack. No need to stress yourself out."

Jack looks over at you, "yeah but he invited me to his house. You're my girlfriend and he's your big brother. Even if he doesn't know, I want to make a good impression."

"That's sweet, now put this on." You smiled, handing him a forest green short sleeved button up you pulled out of the depths of his closet.

While Jack was getting ready, you searched through the drawers for a shopping bag you were sure he had left around. When you found out, you tumbled through his cupboards for a bag of icing sugar you knew you had left there and then you opened the fridge to get the butter.

"What are you doing?" Jack asks, appearing in the doorway.

"I told Rodri I was going to the store, I can't go back empty handed."

"So that means you need to take my butter?" He looks at you confused, fixing the sleeves of his shirt. You nodded, smiling at him as you walked to the door.

Jack follows behind you, watching as you put your shoes back on. "I've seen your bank account, you can afford to buy another tub of butter," you patted his chest, giving him a quick kiss before heading out.

When you returned home, the house was quiet. "Rod?" You called, walking into the kitchen to see your cakes on the stove cooling and the back door was open.

"Hey," your brother stepped back inside. "You're back."

"What's going on? " You look at him confused. "Why were you outside?"

"I figured we could eat outside tonight, it's nice out."

"Okay then," you turn your attention to your cake, starting on the icing. "Did you get everything you needed?" Rodri asks, scooping some icing up on his finger.

You smack his arm, the man smiles and sticks his finger in his mouth to taste the frosting. "I did."

"Okay, I'm gonna go take a shower." He kisses your cheek, walking off towards the bathroom. You rolled your eyes at your brother's theatrics and finished up on your cake, frosting it and sticking it in the fridge for the time being.

By the time you finished tidying up and setting up the last of what was needed for dinner, it was a few minutes to 8 o'clock. Rodri finds his way back to the kitchen in slacks and a polo shirt.

"You're dressed up," you glance in his direction, setting the last glass into the dish rack. "We have company coming, I'm not gonna eat dinner in sweatpants, y/n."

You chuckled, remembering what you had told Jack earlier. "Okay whatever you say."

The doorbell rings, Rodri makes his way over to open it and let Jack in. The two of them made small talk in the entryway as you wiped your hands on the kitchen towel. Upon finding the men, you realized both of them were far too dressed up for you to be in sweatpants.

"I see I'm undressed." You announced, making your presence known.

"Hi y/n," Jack smiles at you, handing the bottle of wine over to Rodri.

"Hi Jack," you smiled back at him, as if you hadn't seen him 40 minutes ago. "I'm going to go change, I'll meet you guys outside."

You left them to make their way outside while you attempted to pull together an outfit as quickly as possible. You pulled your hair out of the falling apart ponytail it was in and put on a sundress before making your way outside.

"Wine?" Rodri asks, after pouring some into Jack's glass. "Yeah, please." You smile at your brother, sitting in the chair that was on the left; between Jack and Rodri who were across from each other.

Dinner was quiet, the 3 of you chatting about life, football, the upcoming matches, your plans come the fall. Rodri lets you and Jack speak, it's like you had forgotten he was there altogether; it didn't take a scientist to see the chemistry between you two.

You and Jack were comfortable in each other's space, joking around like you had known each other for years, the type of thing you'd only see with a couple.

After dinner wrapped up, you cleared the table and brought the cake out. You cut three pieces, handing them over to the boys before sitting down and taking your own piece.

Rodri takes a bite, looking over at his teammate who does the same. "How is it?" He asks Jack.

The man nods, "good, it's great." He smiles at you and you return the gesture, taking a bite from your own piece.

Rodri nods, the fork in between his fingers as he points between you and Jack. "So.. how long has this been going on?"

You coughed, rubbing your chest after you almost choked on your cake. Jack on the other was completely pale, as if all the blood had drained from his body.

He starts, glancing between you and Rodri, unsure what to say. "Wh-uh.. what are you talking about?"

Rodri rolls his eyes, as if Jack thought he was stupid. He knew the two of you were seeing each other, it was painfully obvious. He had a suspicion and tonight's dinner was either going to make or break the thought. It just slapped a big old confirmed stamp on the two of you.

"I'm not blind, you know. I do pay attention, even when you think I'm not." Rodri says, looking over at you with an accusatory look on his face. You bite back a shy smile, lips pressed together as you look away from your older brother. "Plus, your bedroom is next to mine, y/n. Having him on speaker all night isn't exactly the slickest way of hiding a relationship."

You and Jack chuckled, looking at each other. "It's not that we didn't want to tell you-" "It was y/n's idea not to tell you." Jack butts in, throwing you under the bus so to speak.

"Shut up!" You groan, shaking your head. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," you glance in the direction of your boyfriend. "I just wanted to see where it goes, if I'd stay in Manchester or not."

"And are you?" Rodri asks.

You take a moment to think, nodding. "Yeah, I think I will be."

"Good," your brother reaches over, patting your hand. "Does he treat you well?"

You rolled your eyes at his cliché question but you nod. "He does."

Rodri turns his attention to Jack. "If you hurt her, I'll hurt you." He tells his teammate, earning a laugh from Jack but you look at your boyfriend. "No, he will and I'll let him."

"Oh..." Jack looks between the siblings, jaw hanging open a bit. "Okay then."

The rest of the evening was quiet, you two gave Rodri a few details from your relationship, how long you'd be together and a few other things like that before you took the cake back inside.

Jack had gone to the bathroom and your brother finds you cutting another slice of the cake, putting it into a Tupperware bowl in the kitchen. "What are you doing?" He looks at you, confused.

You return the look, "packing a piece of cake for Jack? There's more than enough, Rod. You can have more tomorrow." You chuckled, putting the bowl into a bag.

"I don't think your clothes are gonna fit in there," Rodri tells you, leaning on the counter. You look at your brother, confusion all over your face. "What are you talking about, dude?"

"Go pack your bag."

"Are you kicking me out? I thought you were cool with-" "No dummy, I'm telling you to go spend the night with your boyfriend."

"Oh!" You laughed, walking over to give your brother a hug. "You're really okay with me dating him?"

"Would he have been my first choice? No, I thought you'd date a doctor or something boring like that but as long as you're happy and he treats you well, I'm 100% behind it."

"Okay," you smiled, kissing his cheek before running off to your room.

Jack and Rodri were in the entryway, your bag tossed over your shoulder as you skipped down the hallway towards them. Jack reaches for your bag, taking it from you.

"Thanks man," Jack nods at his teammate, Rodri smiles at him. "Anytime, take care of her, yeah? Drive carefully please."

"I'm a fantastic driver," Jack says, and you and Rodri exchange a look before laughing. Jack rolls his eyes, already knowing what you two were thinking. You hugged your brother once more, saying goodnight to him before heading down the driveway with him.

Once you were in the car, Jack looked over at you with a cheeky smile on his face. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Shut up," you smiled, reaching over to hold his hand.

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396 notes · View notes

alj4890 · 8 months

Note

OK, so I decided to send some Tobias writers a Jesse GIF and ask them to write a little fic based on it. Feel free to play along if you like (or delete - no pressure!)

Okay 😂 Anyone who knows me on here knows I can NEVER resist a picture/gif prompt. This one you sent me @jerzwriter is not only perfect but also has made me think of so many different fic ideas. From the fluffy sweet to the angsty, I think I'll go with one somewhere in the middle 😉 So while I'm stalled on my OH series and all the others 😬, this at least got the inspiration going again.

@jerzwriter @hopelessromantic1352 @choicesficwriterscreations @trappedinfanfiction @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @kyra75 @coffeeheartaddict2

Masterlist

What Might Have Been

"Hey? Do you hear that?"

Tobias opened his eyes. He blinked at the darkness while a feminine form curled against his side. Though the previous night was foggy from overindulging in both top shelf whiskey and then the actions he'd gotten up to with the woman in his arms, he knew without looking that the hair that tickled his chin was a deep, rich red in color.

Her soft curves nestled up against his body brought back flashes of heated kisses and clothes being thrown about his townhouse.

His mind then slowly registered the sound of someone knocking at his front door.

One quick look at the nightstand clock revealed that it was a little after four in the morning. He couldn't think of anyone who would come to his home at this hour, especially one who would persistently keep knocking.

"Wait here." He whispered.

Getting up, he slipped on a pair of pajama pants and softly padded down the stairs. Stumbling over his discarded shoes and shirt at the foot of the stairs, he peeked out the window to see just who was determined to wake him up at such an ungodly hour.

His heart dropped at the sight of the woman at his door.

Swallowing, he turned the door handle. Seeing her standing at his threshold caused the previous night's events to come flooding over him.

*****************

Donahue's, mere hours ago...

"Come on!" Chris playfully shoved Tobias. "One more round."

Tobias chuckled as he refilled both their glasses with whiskey.

"Alright Chris," he smiled at her, "but this is the last round. Some of us don't want to fight a massive hangover in the morning."

She snorted in her laughter. Her gray green eyes sparkled as she looked at him with mock impatience. He couldn't think of anyone more adorable than her when slightly tipsy.

"Maybe you'll get lucky." She teased. "I might say something I haven't done that you haven't either."

"Uh huh." He rolled his eyes. "Given my age and my history, that seems highly unlikely."

Tobias unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. After agreeing to play this Never Have I Ever game with her, he'd drunk more than he had in a very, very long time. He thought the game was asinine at best but he could never refuse a chance to spend time with Chris.

She'd claimed this would be a more fun way for them to get to know one another. He'd been satisfied with their typical nights of sharing stories and yet, he loved seeing her playful/never willing to lose side show up at random times.

"Never have I ever..." Chris began.

She tapped her fingers on the bar. Her lips puckered with eyes narrowed in thought. He snorted softly to see her trying so hard to think of something that he probably had done at some point in his life.

She huffed with irritation when she came up blank with something to trap him in.

"Give up?" He taunted.

"No!" She exclaimed, unable to stop smiling at him. "I'm merely stalled."

"Thank God." He pushed his drink away. "Now can we hang out like normal people?"

"For now." She took a long sip of her drink. "But I will find something to win this game."

He winked at her. "I have no doubt that you will, Chris. I've learned to never underestimate that mind of yours."

Chris beamed at him for that compliment.

He made himself tear his eyes off her face. It was getting harder and harder for him to simply be her coworker turned friend. His flirtatious nature was dying to use everything within him to win her heart.

Chris was an attraction he didn't want to keep fighting against. It'd been about two years now since he'd joined Edenbrook's, famed diagnostics team and that was two years too long of holding back his ever growing feelings for the tall red head.

He knew why he kept holding back. One glance over to the opposite side of the bar revealed the man who had been in the very situation Tobias found himself in. From the bits and pieces both Ethan and Chris had revealed in his time at Edenbrook, Tobias knew the danger of falling for someone you worked closely with on a daily basis.

Unlike Ethan though, Tobias wasn't hesitant to actually be with Chris because of work. His was a worry more so in losing what they already had between them. Given his track record with women, he knew Chris could never be a simple notch on the old belt.

She was something infinitely more.

Eyeing the glasses, he picked his up, took a large gulp, and decided there was no time like the present to say what needed to be said.

"Don't look now," Chris whispered, "but someone has their eye on you."

Tobias looked around until he made eye contact with a woman with long, red hair. Her gaze was fixated upon him and a sultry smile played about her lips.

Chris's smile dimmed once he refocused on her. "Go on. I understand."

"Nah. I'm good." He set his glass down.

"Come on." Chris's laughter lacked its earlier joy. "Even I know that woman's a sure thing."

"I'm not interested in her." He folded his arms on the bar, angling his body towards Chris. "And I thought of a Never Have I Ever."

"Not interested?!" Chris narrowed her eyes in concern then felt his forehead. "Hmm. No fever."

"Hah, hah." He nudged her glass towards her. "Are we playing or what, Valentine?"

Chris hesitated, glancing back at the woman he was turning down.

"Okay. Hit me with what you got."

Tobias picked up his glass. His eyes lowered to the amber liquid swirling around and around while he drummed up the courage.

"Never have I ever," he took a deep breath, "admitted to the woman sitting next to me how much I want her."

Chris's glass landed on the table with an audible thud.

"That's not..." she blinked back a sudden rush of tears, "...Tobias, that's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be." He reached for her hand. "I'm serious, Chris. I've wanted to tell you for a while now, but given your on and off again history with Ethan, I thought the timing might not be right."

Her stunned silence encouraged him to continue.

"I'm tired of waiting for the right moment, so this is it. I want to be with you."

Chris bit down on her bottom lip. Her eyes searched his for the truth.

"You sure it isn't the whiskey making you think like this?" She prodded. "Because if you're looking for a one night stand, that woman who's been checking you out all night should be the one you use this line on, not me."

A couple of tears spilled out. She quickly dabbed them away with her fingertips.

"I'm tired of not knowing what men want from the beginning. And," she took a deep breath, "I want to be someone's only significant other for a change."

"That's what I want." He gripped her hand. "I want you and me to be together, as a couple."

Chris glanced over her shoulder at the man who had entangled her heart from the moment she met him.

"I need to go talk to Ethan."

Tobias felt his heart drop. He couldn't believe that this was the outcome of his confessing his feelings for Chris.

His fingers clinched around hers before slowly slipping away.

"Wait here." Chris told him, sliding off her barstool.

"Sure." He mumbled.

Tobias downed the rest of his drink, then finished off Chris's.

He watched Chris whisper to Ethan. The two of them headed outside to the back patio to talk. He refused to sit and wait on her returning to tell him she preferred Ethan over him. Why should he make himself even more miserable?

He pushed away from the bar and encountered the red head who'd been eyeing him all night.

"Hi." She cooed, smiling up at him.

His eyes drifted along her striking features. Though she was pale and had red hair like Chris, her eyes were a warm brown and she was a good deal shorter than the one who'd just broken his heart.

But...she was interested in him.

"I hope you weren't leaving without saying hello." She teased.

"No." He forced himself to smile at her. "I was instead going to see if you wanted to get out of here."

Looping her arm through his, she tugged him out the door.

*******************

Tobias's home...

"Chris." Tobias rubbed his hands over his eyes, hoping this wasn't real.

He'd been so certain he'd brought her home when he first woke up.

"You, Dr. Carrick, do not wait well." Chris teased as she brushed past him. "I'm sorry it took so long with Ethan. We had more to discuss than I thought when I told him about us."

She took her coat off and hung it up on her way to sit down on his couch.

"You told him what exactly?" Tobias glanced up the stairs at his open bedroom door and silently prayed the woman in his bed didn't come down to investigate.

"I thought it only fair to tell him we are now a couple." Chris explained. "I never was really certain what he considered me as, so I wasn't sure if our discussion would be more of a breakup or a rehash that Ethan and I never really got the timing right."

"Oh." Tobias sat down beside her. "Are you okay?"

"I am now." She snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Once I realized you'd left, it took me forever to find a taxi."

"I..." his heart stopped when he heard the familiar creak of his fourth stair.

"Hey." The woman he'd brought home said timidly. "I uh, I think I should get out of here."

Chris whipped around, eyes wide, at the sight of the person who'd been at the bar.

The other red head gave a quick, apologetic wave then darted out his front door.

Tobias tried to keep Chris in his arms.

She shoved him away, scrambling to her feet.

"Chris!" He chased her into his entry hall. "I thought you were choosing Ethan! I didn't know--"

"Why in the hell would I tell you to wait on me if I was choosing him?!" She jerked her coat on. "I can't believe that I was stupid enough to actually have thought someone like you would want what I wanted."

"I do!" He shut his door when she wrenched it open. "Please, just--"

She pushed him away and ran out his door.

"CHRIS!" He yelled out, chasing her down the block. "PLEASE, DON'T--"

**************

"Tobias!"

He jerked awake, gasping for air as if he'd been drowning.

He reached over and flipped the lamp on, heart pounding in fear of the woman he'd see in bed with him.

"Hey," Chris wrapped her arms around him, softly kissing him. "It's okay."

He hugged her close, burying his head against her neck.

"No more thirty-six hour shifts for you." She teased, easing back some.

He gently cupped her face. His attention drifted from Chris to the platinum wedding band glistening in the lamp light that resided on his ring finger.

"Bad dream?" She caressed his cheek.

"The worst." He settled back against the pillows, pulling her within his arms.

"Want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Let's talk about something happy."

"Like what?" Chris laid down next to him.

"Tell me our story." He said softly.

"Our story?" Her lips curved as she snuggled closer. "Okay. How far back are we talking?"

"All the way." He slipped his arm around her to tuck her more against his side.

"Once upon a time," she began. "A young doctor--"

"Exceptionally beautiful doctor." He corrected.

"A young, exceptionally beautiful doctor decided to have breakfast at a cafe with a friend. She saw a man--"

"Devastatingly handsome man." Tobias corrected once more.

"I was talking about the man Aurora and I helped." She poked him in the ribs.

"The devastatingly handsome man approached you afterwards." He continued.

Chris propped herself up on his chest. "Am I telling this or not?"

Tobias began to smile over the memory. "I asked you out right then and there."

"You did." She conceded. "And since you were cute, I said, yes."

"I fell for you right then." He murmured, exhaustion begining to take its toll.

"I fell for you too." She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "And so the couple dated. The devastatingly handsome man turned out to be a brilliant doctor who saved the exceptionally beautiful doctor's life."

"They married." He yawned, eyes closing as peace fell upon him once more.

"And lived happily ever after." Chris whispered.

Tobias's slow breaths allowed her a chance to relax once more beside him. Hugging him close, she fell into a deep sleep.

#tobias x chris #tobias carrick #choices oh #choices open heart #open heart fanfic #choices fic writers creations #prompt request

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here. This is like. You remember that one game, Mercy? The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous. Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares? It’s child’s play. It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person. You never have been. It’s just not part of your nature. If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else. You just… do you. You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good. And if it’s bad, it’s good. Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit? Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open. “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron. What are we doing? Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up.

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl. You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench. “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today? Thursday? Friday? Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day. Thursday, then. …Thursday?” You shake your head. “Ugh, see? Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.” He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers. It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now. Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that. Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it. “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation. To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small. Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here. “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap. You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are. “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink. “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron. First and last word, that’s all it takes. And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?” He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel. “ Easy credits. Just begging for it. Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust. As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly. Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him. “You just turned my money into a sex object. It was vile. I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging. You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it. “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now. Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?” You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them. Withdrawal stage, ha. “Of course it’s all that bad. It’s horrible. It’s the fucking worst. And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this? Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to. “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you. “I did not. When the fuck did I cheat? I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more. He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire. “Okay, first of all? Rude. I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright? I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him. And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good. He smells… unbelievably fucking good. Always. Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on. It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit. No such luck so far.

“Whatever. The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want. In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming. “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is. “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?” He goes on, completely ignoring you. “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen? You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm? No snorgasms? Hmmm? No happy naps? No captain midnights? No mattress fracking? Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked. “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again. You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one. “Anyways. Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!” You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting. And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills. Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems. “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!” You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation. “There it is! You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself! Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both. Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum? This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused. He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath. “Sorry. But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal. And descriptive. “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right. Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh? I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me. Not right now. Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh. Something occurs to you, something… sinister. Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long. It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before. You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan. You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away. A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?” You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more. “Now many times did you cum in your sleep? Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?” He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time. “It was involuntary.”

You shrug. “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious. “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?” You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with. Instead, your voice is soft, questioning. Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait. You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape. The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,” he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought. Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this. The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous. “It’s your room, too. Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there. You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?” You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number. You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them. “Red-Six. Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder. “Or, wait… Neah. No—it was… Nalal. Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest. “It was starting to get obnoxious. Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is. “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should. Lower than it should. You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls? Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel. “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head. “Sometimes a sabbatical is good. I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment. “I’m sorry? And… you’re welcome. I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long. The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable. At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together. I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block. He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus. You have to control yourself. You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless. It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this. Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever. One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option. “This isn’t a good idea. It’s… not healthy. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him. “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing. It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit. “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection. “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp. “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—” You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?” Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky. Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast? This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself? “Finish it. Sooner, rather than later. Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident. Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive. Fuck. Dameron, and you, in bed. It could be mean. It could be rough. A fight for dominance more than anything. He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now. Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning. Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?” Are the first recognizable words that can be heard. “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips. “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance. It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working. Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before. Of course. Stupid. Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air. You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed? A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet. You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think. Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences. You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off. This is different. This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable. A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…” Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you. There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him. Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal. You don’t like it. You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead. The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong. “I mean, y’know. Theoretically speaking, and all. If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before. Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something. This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you. Shit. You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin. You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done. What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation. You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it. Stop it. Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation. How dare he? How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses? You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him. Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier. “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet. No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright? Don’t talk to me. You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight. And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it. It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has. Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least. You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it. You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving. It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds. A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons. Mainly, the nerve of him. The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,” You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space. You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare. “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge. “You’re… plotting. Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship. “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it. Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty. Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it. “Something that you like, that gets you going. Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further. “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should. It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not. This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable. The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?” You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same. “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart. “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks. Default to normal, default to normal. “Your fucking attitude. Your demeanor. The way you talk down to me. You don’t listen. You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen. You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?” He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second. This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here. He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on. “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back. “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity. Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed. “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily. “Have since the moment we met. And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it. You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?” You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak. “Pop the top on this bitch. Put me out of my fucking misery, right now. You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait. And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up. You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way. He deserved that. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake. Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you. Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders. It’s not sexual. It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating. He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline. His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter. They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret. “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need. Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words. To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit. You feel like you’re literally burning up with it. You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire. “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone. “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember. Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it. How long’s it been? Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless. Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes. Oh fuck, be cool, be cool. “You think this is gonna work? Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek. The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs. How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard. “Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second. Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow. “Beard or no beard, makes no difference. Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere. You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone. “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious. Maker, how long until your shift is over? You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league. “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?” Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder. “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself. Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going. “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next. “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me. But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist. Resist . You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios. Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting. “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you. Go nice and slow. I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away. I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it. How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker. This is a trick. It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it. You can’t fucking fall for it. It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all. He’s lying to get your guard down. He laughed at your flirting. He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him. You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback. You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say. Your room. It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now. Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register. “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see. I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to. Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out. And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm. Your bed,” he eventually decides. “I want you comfortable. You shower at night. Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep. That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point. And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while. However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening. Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through. Maker, it’s fucking painful. You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?” You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time. Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body. “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in. Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before. Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other. Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies. Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy. It hurts to lose a first name. But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design. He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it. Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now. It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two. You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea. Nothing about it comes out right. The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself. Oh Maker, can you imagine? How fucking proud of himself he’d be? You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it. Where’d it go? Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it. Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false…

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear. You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you. Like… teakwood, maybe? Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind. What the fuck does teakwood even smell like? “Maybe it’s just what I need. You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low. It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls? Just a little bit? That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad. That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…” You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now. “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it. “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato. It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low. “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs. “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage. “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this. Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be. You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want. And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move. Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body. You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder. “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you. He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side. “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—” Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down. But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second. As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise. The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use. Fuck , it’s been so long . You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now. It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks. “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs. “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion. The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone. Fuck, he almost made you cum. He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide. You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again. You have to close your eyes. You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more. “Shhhit. I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it. Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless. “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck. Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back. They start… moving slightly. Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize. He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm. Dameron might cum in his pants like this. Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum. You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight. You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving. “One… one more. If you want. You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you. “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.” You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether. His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb. The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure. Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger. He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time. He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat. Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief. Genuine, not embellished. He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go. You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this. You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again. It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?” Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that. He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly. “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you. Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet. Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much. You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes. It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it? You could. You could cum right now. What’s two weeks of pay? You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence. Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear. “Be nice. I’m being nice.”

You should bite him. Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now. Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again. Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying. You need air. Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this. If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all. Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore. “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit. Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half. He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that. Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good. Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good. Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in. Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?” He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them. “How clearly do you remember the rules? What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt. No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer. “Tell me. No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind. But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore. There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement. The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it. “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends. Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—” The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out. “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine. “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does. The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it. You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout. You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it. You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves. The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest. “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens. Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you? Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck. “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order. “Right now. Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it. “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally. The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm. You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it. Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day. First names hurt. You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence. Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks. A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

#poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #SMUTTTT #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #the formatting on this one is downright horrendous but im so mad that i cant even fix it right now so thatll have to come later im sorry

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leossmoonn · 3 years

Text

Temptation

masterlist

pairing - silas x forbes,fem!reader

type - fluffy smut, angst

note / request - “can i request a silas fic where the reader is Caroline's lil sis and Silas likes to annoy her, and he likes her a lot. Then Care and Damon are always into protective sibling modes where silas is around y/n. So one day they catch y/n making out w him, and then theres a lot of banter again” this was really fun to write! im not gonna rewrite background info lol so make sure to read the request. also the timeline of events is a little fuzzy so i apologise if i make a mistake. enjoy :)

summary - damon and caroline find you making out with the enemy, who just happens to be silas

warnings / includes - language, sibling fighting, steamy make out, sexual tension heheh, you’re in your senior year of high school, suggestive

————

*gif isn't mine*

“Hello, doll face,” Silas greeted behind you.

You jumped at his voice, but quickly settled down. “Hey, Silas,” you said dully.

“Why the long face, princess?” Silas asked.

“Because you’re here,” you said. “Oh, that’s so mean. You’ve hurt my feelings,” Silas pouted.

“Well, I’m not supposed to be talking to you anyways,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“Ugh, you are such a goody two shoes. It’s cute, but annoying. Why not break the rules? I know you want to,” Silas said, leaning over the top of the couch, his face going right next to your’s.

You inhaled deeply, your heart pounding against your chest. You were attracted to him, no doubt about that, but if you even considered shaking his hand, Caroline and Damon would kill you. And you definitely didn’t want that.

“I can read your mind, Y/n. I know you want to kiss me, so go ahead,” he whispered.

You didn’t turn your head, but your eyes wandered to the left. You got a good view of his lips, which made butterflies flutter in your stomach. It was so tempting to close the gap between you two, but you knew better than that. You turned your head the other way, standing up from the couch. You packed up your school work, deciding to leave the Salvatore house and go to your own.

You were at the Salvatore house because Damon had offered to help you with your history homework. You took the offer and you two had been studying for a few hours. He had left you for 30 minutes to go and get you two lunch. In those 30 minutes, Silas had wandered into the house, looking for you.

You pulled out your phone, texting Damon to go to your house instead of back to his.

“Where are ya going?” Silas asked.

“Home,” you mumbled, keeping your head down and walking to the front door.

Silas stood in front of the door, making you look up at him with an annoyed frown.

“Please let me go,” you said.

“No, I’d rather see you beg,” Silas smirked. You rolled your eyes. “Please. Damon is waiting for me at my house with food.”

“Oh! Well, why don’t I just go with you, then? I’d love to see Damon.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you chuckled. “Why not? I can just pretend to be his brother! I’ve fooled lots of people already,” Silas smiled.

“I think Damon will notice. Especially if I’m there,” you said. “I’ll just sneak in then,” Silas suggested.

“No, Silas! I just want to go home alone. Leave me alone,” you said sternly, looking him straight in the eyes. You went to push him out of the way, but his hands grabbed ahold of your wrists. His strong grip made goosebumps rush up your forearms.

Silas couldn’t help but smirk. You rarely ever had outbursts. He thought it was incredibly sexy and cute when you put your foot down. Especially when it pertained to him.

“You are so adorable when you’re mad. You're so small, too. I can’t help but not take you seriously,” Silas chuckled.

Your eyes went wide and you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You masked your embarrassment by groaning and running your fingers through your hair in frustration. “Just let me go! Please. I’m hungry and tired and really need to study for my test.”

“What is your test over, anyways? History? Cause if so, I could help you out. I bet I know more than Damon,” Silas said.

“No thanks, bro, she’s all taken care of,” Damon said from behind Silas.

“You tattled that I was here! So naughty of you,” Silas glared at you playfully.

“Step out of the way, Silas. Otherwise I will snap your neck,” Damon sneered.

Silas sighed. “Fine! I’m only obeying because I want to kiss you before I die.”

“Fat chance of that. C’mon, Y/n. I got you a burger and those onion rings you like,” Damon said.

“Thanks, Damon,” you smiled gratefully at him.

“See you later, doll face!” Silas called out as you walked to your car.

“I’m sorry about him. I should make you the owner of the house,” Damon said.

You shrugged, “It’s alright. He would never actually hurt me.”

“Well, we don’t know that,” Damon said.

“Yes, we do. Sure, he might threaten to kill me sometimes, but his liking for me trumps any chance of him killing me. I don’t fear him, he’s just extremely annoying,” you said, getting in your car.

“Agreed,” Damon said.

You two drove to your house, eating lunch and studying for a few more hours. Caroline and Elena then came home, talking to you and Damon about a party at the Grill.

“Can I come?” You asked.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Caroline nodded.

You smiled excitedly. You barley went to any of these parties. You usually were at home studying or hiding away in your house because Caroline and Damon were always worried for you, but Caroline figured that since she and Damon and everyone else would be there, they would be able to protect you.

So you took a quick shower and got ready for the night. You put on ripped jeans and a black, spaghetti-strapped top with a jean jacket. You put on heeled boots and put on some silver jewellery, as well as lined your eyes with eyeliner and painted your lips red with lipstick.

“Oh, you look so cute!” Elena exclaimed as you walked out of your room.

“Thanks, Elena,” you smiled at her.

“No, go change,” Caroline said. “Why?” You frowned.

“Because Silas could be there and that outfit would tempt him even more,” Damon explained.

You rolled your eyes. “So when Klaus was here, Caroline could wear anything, but I guess since I’m younger and a human, I can’t? That’s so unfair.”

“She’s right, guys. I hate Silas as much as you two, but let her dress how she wants. We’ll be there to protect her. Plus, if Silas thinks she’s hot, then good for her. She is,” Elena agreed with you.

You smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“Ugh, fine! But no drinking, okay?” Caroline said.

“Ay, ay captain,” you said. You four went out to Elena’s SUV, driving to the Grill.

Loud music blasted into your ears as soon as you stepped inside. You smiled as you saw everything dancing and having the time of their life.

“Shots?” Caroline suggested.

“Hell yeah!” Elena squealed.

“Iced tea for you, Y/n?” Caroline asked. “Yes, please,” you nodded.

“Alright, you guys go to the pool table. I’ll be back,” Caroline said.

“Where is Stefan?” You asked, looking around the bar and walking to the pool table that was conveniently empty.

“Right here!”

You turned around, smiling once you saw Stefan in a grey shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. You went to hug him, but Damon stopped you.

“Ah, ah, ah. How do we know it isn’t Silas?” Damon asked.

Stefan rolled his eyes. He pulled out a blood bag from his pocket, taking it and drinking it quickly.

“Alright, alright, we know it’s you. Cool it on the blood, brother. Don’t want to go into a bloodlust,” Damon said, taking the empty bag and throwing it in the trash.

“Well, I don’t really know how else to prove I’m not Silas,” Stefan sighed. “Can I get that hug now?”

You smiled and nodded, wrapping your arms around him.

Between everyone else, Damon and Stefan were your best friends. They were like the brothers you’ve never had, protecting you and teasing you whenever they felt like it was necessary. You hadn’t seen Stefan in a while since he was found in the safe, but you were glad to see he was okay.

“Glad to see you’re okay, Stef,” you said, pulling back.

“And I’m glad to see you haven’t fallen victim to my doppelgänger,” Stefan smiled.

Caroline came back with shots, pleasantly surprised to see Stefan.

“Stefan! You’re here! Oh, my God the whole gang is here!” She squealed, putting down the shots and engulfing Stefan is a big hug.

“I’m excited to be here, too. This is the first time I’ve really gone out for fun. I hope nothing goes wrong,” Stefan joked.

“Well, if any of you spot Silas, make sure to not let him get close to Y/n. We don’t know what he could do to her,” Caroline said.

You rolled your eyes at her concern, but didn’t say anything. You knew it would end up with you two arguing and that was the last thing anything wanted. Forbes were very controlling and heated when they got angry.

You took your tea and sipped on it as Damon downed the first shot.

“Wait, are we playing in teams?” You asked.

“Yeah, which one do you wanna be one? Damon and I’s?” Stefan asked.

“Definitely yours,” you said. “Oh, what! You know I win all the time,” Damon said.

“Yeah, but when you lose you get so mad. It’s hilarious,” you giggled.

“True, it is cute,” Elena smirked.

Damon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You two are so annoying.”

You smiled and played with your friends for a little while. It came to a time where everyone was too tipsy to where they could barely walk, so you were in charge of getting the drinks. Damon and Caroline, despite being pretty much drunk, stayed close behind you.

“Hey, Matt,” you smiled at the boy working behind the bar. “Hey, Y/n! Let me guess, more shots and another iced tea?” He asked.

“You guessed right,” you chuckled.

“So, how is school?” He asked.

“Pretty good. History is kicking my ass, per usual. It’s weird because I’m surrounded by history buffs,” you said.

“Well, I know you have Damon helping you, but Stefan is a lot better at tutoring, in my opinion. I know he’s been having a rough time, though,” Matt said.

“He has, which is why I should be your tutor,” Silas smirked next to you.

You jumped slightly, surprised to see him there. You looked at him, seeing him wearing a dark navy shirt and jeans. Your eyes stared at his biceps and his strong, broad shoulders. Once you noticed him smirking at you, you looked back to the drinks Matt was filling.

“Now I get the silent treatment? C’mon, not fair,” Silas whined.

“You shouldn’t be here, man,” Matt said.

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about, it huh?” Silas taunted, looking at Matt with narrow, menacing eyes.

Matt rolled his eyes, putting the tequila shots and your drink on a tray and handing them to you.

“Thanks, Matt,” you smiled.

You took the tray, ready to turn around and walk away from Silas. He put his arm up, planning to grab your arm to stop you, but Caroline and Damon used their vamp speed to push him back.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Caroline sneered. Veins were circulating under her eyes and she bared her fangs.

Silas smirked, not at all fazed. “Oh, please, I could kill both of you so fast, you couldn’t have chance to say bye to Y/n. Now, let me go, Damon.”

Damon’s grip on Silas’s arms tightened. “Not a chance. We’re going outside and I’m gonna make sure you are far away from here.”

Damon then took Silas to the exit, Silas looking back at you and giving you a wink. Caroline groaned in disgust and took the tray away from you.

“You okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine, Care! He wasn’t going to hurt me,” you glared at her.

“You don’t know that! Why are you defending him? Doesn't he annoy you?” Caroline asked.

“Yeah, he does,” you said, your voice trailing off at the end, alluding to something else.

Caroline stared at you intensely, gasping once she put the pieces together. “You… You like him? Ugh, why! He’s a monster.”

“I don’t like him! God, why is that always your first assumption?” You asked.

“Because you obviously are having physical reactions to him. We all see the way you look down in shyness when he flirts with you, and we can hear your heart racing. We just hoped you wouldn’t give in,” Caroline sighed.

“I’m not! I don’t like him in any way, okay? Just because I defend someone doesn’t mean I automatically like them!”

“That’s what you always say! You need to get rid of those feelings, Y/n. He’s not a good person.”

You closed your eyes in frustration, sighing roughly. “I’m going to the bathroom to cool down. When I come out, you better not say anything else about me liking Silas.”

You spun on your heels, storming off to the bathroom. You washed your hands, putting them to your forehead to cool yourself down.

“Feelings for Silas, please,” you scoffed to yourself.

“She’s right. I know it, you know it. Everyone does.”

You looked in the mirror, jumping once you saw Silas behind you. You turned around quickly.

“H-How did you get in here?” You asked.

“I knocked Damon out,” he shrugged.

“What?! Is he okay?” You asked. “Yes, he’s fine. I know that you would hate me if I killed one of your friends,” he said.

You sighed, “I have to go. They’re waiting for me.” You went to the door, but Silas once again blocked the entrance.

“You gotta be quicker, Y/n. Someday you might find yourself in real trouble,” Silas smiled down at you.

“You are real trouble,” you retorted.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true. If I was then you’d be screaming for your life. But you’re just standing there, looking so incredibly kissable,” Silas said, shamelessly looking at your lips.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you looked down to hide your face. “No, I just don’t want to make a scene,” you mumbled.

Silas put his hand on your chin, making your eyes meet his. “While that is true, you also having feelings for me.”

You stepped away from him, his hand falling to his side. “I don’t. You’re evil and cheated on your girlfriend. No girl wants to be with a guy like that.”

“Elena practically cheated on Stefan emotionally, you’re still friends with her,” Silas stated.

You furrowed your brows, not sure what to say back. He was correct, but you knew that wasn’t the point. You needed to get out of there otherwise Caroline and Damon would freak out.

Silas walked towards you slowly, like you were his prey that he was stalking. You turned around, not wanting to look at him. Silas grinned, seeing as his plan would work out even better now that you were facing the mirrors.

He put his hand on your bare arm, dragging his fingertips up your skin.

“I’m so glad you took off the leather jacket. Your outfit looks so much better without it,” he murmured.

You immediately froze. Your eyes were glued to the two of you in the mirror. You watched as his hand went up to your shoulders, pressing down lightly on your muscles.

“Shouldn’t you be running, Y/n?” Silas asked, moving. your hair out of the way so he could get a better view of your neck.

You knew you should, but his touch felt so good. It weirdly calmed your nerves down, but also made you flustered as hell. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to stay in this bathroom and let him take you. Silas smiled at your thoughts, lowering his lips down to your shoulder.

“I can totally take you right here if you want,” he whispered, his lips making contact with your skin.

You inhaled sharply, finding yourself stumbling back into his chest. His other arm went around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Your skin is so soft, doll face,” he said while kissing up your neck.

You watched him in the mirror, your stomach doing flips. Your legs felt weak and heat gathered in between your thighs. You had honestly wanted to kiss him this whole time. You decided a few more minutes in the bathroom couldn’t hurt.

So you turned around, crashing your lips onto his. Silas smiled as you kissed him, his hands trailing down to your legs. He lifted you up with ease, taking you to the sink and placing you on the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands running themselves through his hair.

“Silas,” you breathed out as you felt his hands on your thighs, going higher and higher.

“You like that, princess?” He hummed, his fingers going higher until they reached your clothed entrance. He pulled away, grinning and looking you in the eyes.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, pulling his face close to yours roughly.

Your lips collided again, your heart and brain exploding. Kissing him felt like heaven.

Silas mirrored your neediness and put his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You pressed your chest up to him more, your hands going down from his head to the bottom of his shirt. You lifted it up, Silas pulling away so you could pull it off of him. You sat back and admired his abs and muscles, excitement growing in between your thighs.

You dove down to his neck, kissing and sucking lightly. Your hands explored his chest, tracing along his prominate abs. Silas breathed heavily into your ear, groaning as you found his sweet spot.

“Oh, Y/n,” he panted.

You smirked against his skin. Before you could put your hands on his belt, the bathroom door burst open. You saw Caroline and Damon standing, eyes huge and mouths agape.

“What the hell!” Caroline shrieked.

Your eyes widened and you pushed Silas away from you, getting off the counter.

“Really, Y/n? You pick him to make out with in the bathroom?” Damon groaned.

“It is just happened,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“Yeah, she’s a really good kisser,” Silas smirked. “I never would have expected it since she’s shy and all, but man, she is wil-”

“You shut the hell up. And you,” Caroline pointed to you. “Are going home. now.”

“He wasn’t hurting me, Care,” you said.

Caroline looked at you two incredulously. “You’re making her say this! You pressured her, didn’t you!” She pointed to Silas.

“He’s not! I was the one who kissed him first,” you admitted. “Yeah, but I helped a little,” Silas smirked.

Caroline made her vampire face and lunged at Silas, to which Damon pulled her back.

“Alright, blondie, why don’t you take Y/n home and I’ll deal with Silas, okay?” Damon said.

Caroline huffed and nodded, grabbing you by the arm roughly.

“We’ll continue another time, doll face!” Silas exclaimed.

“No, you will not,” Damon glared.

————

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397 notes · View notes

hockeyboysimagines · 3 years

Text

Ashes and Wine

Warnings:Drinking, mentions of parties/alcohol, language, angst.

I’m so sorry this has taken so long. But I hope you enjoy this chapter.💕

This gif has nothing to do with this chapter. But look at this moron🤣🤣 I love him.

Leighton’s head was splitting when she woke up the next morning. She was vaguely aware that she was in her bedroom but she wasn’t quite sure how she got there and she still had all her clothing on. She sat up slowly, and looked around. The rest of the apartment was quiet, and he curtains were closed. Her shoes were by the bed, and the picture on her dresser was moved.

Then it hit her.

Her memory was foggy but she could see a hazy visual of Mat carrying her into the apartment. She had almost fallen and then almost kissed him.

Oh great.

She huffed and rubbed her forehead. She didn’t often drink, and when she did never that much. But being in Mat’s presence, and seeing the ring on Kaitlin’s finger had rattled her so much, she just got a little out of hand. It was stupid. She had said no. She had drank her weight in vodka. And she needed Tylenol and a drink. Ginny was sitting at the kitchen island eating cereal.

“Morning.” She watched as Leighton disappeared behind the fridge door looking for water.

“Stop staring at me Ginny.”

“The last time I saw you that trashed was at Brad Smith’s party senior year. You were so drunk…that was the night you-“ she said giggling.

“Okay okay. I remember.”

Ginny chuckled “Mat brought you home last night.” She said casually, chewing a spoonful of cereal.

“So?”

“So. Did something happen?”

“ No nothing happened. He’s engaged to…whatever her name is.”

“All I’m saying is I saw that look. It’s the same look he used to give you four years ago.”

“Look I am hungover and I am not in a good mood. He’s engaged and he brought me home last night because he just wants to be friends-“

The doorbell rang just them interrupting her speech. Ginny frowned and slid off her stool. When she opened it, Beau of all people was standing on the other side of the door holding a carrier with three large coffees in it.

“Morning boozy.” He said giving her a smile as he breezed past Ginny and set them on the island.

“Oh my god I think I’m in love with you.” Leighton took hers gratefully and sipped it, feeling better instantly.

“So….” He asked leaning on the counter “Did something happen last night?”

Ginny chuckled and shook her head blowing on her coffee through the hole.

“You guys are the worst. Nothing happened.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t want it to.”

She rolled her eyes “Can you two leave me alone.”

“No.” They said in unison.

********

“So how was the rest of your night last night?” Kaitlin asked over breakfast. Mat shrugged.

“It was fine. Leighton and Beau got along pretty well. She had a little too much to drink though.”

“Was she okay?” Kaitlin looked genuinely concerned.

“I think so. She’s just going through some stuff right now is all, with the move and adjusting.”

“You should help her Mat. I’m sure she would really appreciate it. There’s that team party thing on Friday, I’m leaving that morning for a few days. You should take her.”

If Mat hadn’t just set down his fork he would have dropped it. Kaitlin must really feel secure about their relationship if she was giving him an invitation to go hang out with his ex girlfriend. Was this a test? He felt he was in dangerous territory and no matter how he answered it wouldn’t be right.

“Oh Kaitlin. I don’t know.”

“We’ll think about it. I’m okay with it.”

They ate breakfast in relative silence until Kaitlin left him to shower and pack for her trip. Mat sat down in front of the tv, and absently flicked through the channels, not really watching what was on it. His mind started to rewind.

Music was blaring through Katie’s Miller’s house. While the rest of the guys on the team were yelling and carrying on about winning, mat and Leighton were out talking quietly. The ride to the house had been short, too short to have real conversation and he had been dying to get her alone since then. She looked so damn pretty leaning forward against the railing of the deck.

“You played good tonight.” She said smiling “Or at least I’m pretty sure you did. Right?” He laughed. It was kind of endearing and actually nice that she didn’t know anything about the sport. Sometimes he felt a tremendous amount of pressure to perform because of the promise of making it to the nhl. He didn’t have to be Mat Barzal NHL hopeful with her. He could just be Mat.

Before he could answer the party goers behind them started chanting and they turned to see Cody and some other guys assisting Ginny in doing a keg stand. Leighton rolled her eyes.

“She’s a real piece of work eh?”

“Eh? What is that a Canadian thing?” She teased. Mat blushed.

“I guess.”

“It’s cute. I like it.”

I like you. He thought to himself.

“So how did you and Ginny meet?”

“I sit next to her in English class. We were partners for a project.”

“I’m surprised someone else didn’t try to fight you for it. Boys break their necks just to talk to her.”

“So I’ve noticed. I don’t know….she’s cool, but I’m a little more interested in someone else.”

She quirked an eyebrow “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

Feeling bold, both from the beer and from the high of victory, he smiled at her and shrugged “ There’s this cute little blonde she hangs out with that caught my eye in Math class. In fact. I’m pretty sure that I’m failing because I spend so much time looking at her.”

Leighton let out a small laugh and turned to him, hair spilling over her shoulders. She turned her head to the side and looked up at him through her eyelashes. Gosh they were long, and her eyes were so big and caught the light every time she blinked.

“I’m sure she probably thinks your pretty cute too.” She said quietly bringing him back down to earth.

“That’s really funny, because I’ve been thinking about kissing her.”

“Okay I’m ready to leave.” Mat jumped as Kaitlin set her suitcase down on the hardwood. She was smiling at him as she pulled her coat on and shook out her hair. He stood to kiss her and say goodbye. There was a cab waiting to take her to the airport.

“I love you.” She said wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I love you too. Have a safe trip.”

“Mmmm. Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“Never.” He said running his hands up her back “just gonna hang with Tito probably.”

He didn’t miss the look of distaste that crossed her face and it annoyed him a little bit. Kaitlin had this idea that Beau would break them up or something and he wasn’t really sure why.

“We’ll have fun at your team thing. Are you going to ask Leighton to come?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before she kissed him one last time and walked out the door to the cab. He pulled his phone out, opening his contact list up and scrolling to Leighton’s phone number. He debated for several seconds before closing her contact and then opening it again.

Hey. It’s Mat. There’s a thing on Friday and Kaitlin is out of town. She suggested I ask you. I thought maybe we could do dinner or something beforehand? I’d really like to catch up.

She responded soon enough for him to be hopeful, but long enough for him to sweating out her response.

Sure. That sounds nice. What time?

*******

“So it’s a date?” Beau said nudging her several times. Ginny was sitting on her other side and let out a small chuckle. Beau had insisted on taking them to lunch, waiting around while they both showered and got ready. Leighton had a feeling that he not only wanted some gossip, but he was trying to gauge how much charm it would take to win Ginny over.

“It’s not a date. Just a dinner between old friends.” Leighton said sipping her water.

“Old friends who used to bang.”

Leighton nearly choked on her water and felt her cheeks get red. Sending Ginny a glare she stabbed at a piece of chicken with her fork.

She was looking forward to spending some time with him. Sober. But she was also painfully aware that it was strictly dinner between friends. Even though she wasn’t around, he did still have a fiancé. Even though Beau reminded her “She’s awful.” It didn’t change that she existed.

That didn’t stop her from pulling out all the stops though. She spent some extra time on her hair and makeup, and pulled on her favorite black sweater and dark jeans and boots.

Ginny was out somewhere, but had also been invited and would meet her there later. She hurried out of her apartment, and by the time she made it to the front of her building Mat was waiting there, leaning against his car. He looked up, and blinked at her for several seconds before he smiled.

“Hi. You look nice. Ready?”

She felt like she was going to throw up as he opened her door and guided her into the car with his hand on her lower back. While he drove them to wherever they were going, she really looked at him. He was so different yet the same. Same eyes and smile, but his hair was longer and the years in the NHL had given him extra muscle.

“Stop staring at me.” He said, giving her the side eye, but he was smiling.

She chuckled and looked out the window at the buildings “ So where are we going?”

“To dinner.”

“Okay but where?”

“In a restaurant? Where else would we be going?”

She rolled her eyes “Your so annoying.”

“You haven’t seen me in four years and your telling me I’m annoying? That’s hurts L.”

She felt a tiny pang at the nickname he used to call her, and he must have too because his smile faded a bit and he cleared his throat.

“Uhm anyway…So where is Kaitlin tonight?”

“Uhm. She’s on a work trip in Florida or something. She said I should ask you to come to this thing. If I didn’t Beau would have thrown a tantrum.”

She smiled “I like Beau. He’s funny.”

Mat knew she meant as a friend but he felt a tiny twinge of jealousy. He wanted to be the one making her laugh, not Beau.

“I’m really glad you guys get along. He and Kaitlin don’t always.”

Leighton pursed her lips “Yeah I’ve noticed. What’s that about?”

Mat shrugged “Honestly, I’m really not sure. They’ve just never gotten along. It’s not easy, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ve never had to deal with it before.”

In high school, his friends and teammates loved Leighton, and loved them together. It had been easy and when Beau and Kaitlin ended up on bad terms, Mat didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry Mat. That must be tough.”

“It is. But enough about that.” He said parking the car and turning to her smiling “Lets go. I want to catch up with you tonight, and not talk about that.”

*********

“Did you break up with Kaitlin. My man!” Mat turned as Jordan slapped him jovially on the shoulder, big smile on his face.

“Did I what?no.”

His smile faded and he frowned, looking confused “Well then who’s that?” Mat sighed. Leighton had been friendly and charming to all his teammates she had met so far. Her big smile and soft eyes drew people in like a magnet.

“That’s Leighton.” A collective gasp went up around the table. Most of his teammates knew about Leighton in some form.

“Leighton as in the girl you asked to marry-“

“Yes Marty let’s just not go there.”

“Does Kaitlin know she’s here?”

Mat opened his mouth to answer, but Beau spoke first “Who cares?”

Jordan and Marty laughed, both shaking their heads.

“We’ll I have to say Barz this is one I like. I’m so happy you moved on from Kaitlin.” Sydney had now joined them, smiling widely at him, missing Marty shaking his head at her trying to catch her attention. Beau started laughing and Jordan was smirking as he watched Sydney furrow her eyebrows and look between them.

“What’s so funny?”

“He didn’t dump Kaitlin. That’s his ex girlfriend.” Marty mumbled in her ear. Her eyes widened and she chuckled awkwardly and gave him an apologetic look.

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t-“

“Do you guys really dislike her that much.” He looked around the table. They wouldn’t meet his eyes but they all shrugged.

“It’s not that she just isn’t- what we would expect.” Sydney said choosing her words carefully “This one.” She said jerking her head in Leighton’s direction “Is more someone I could see you with.”

“Plus she has a smoking hot friend.” Beau added in. Ginny had just arrived, greeting Leighton at the bar and ordering a drink. Sydney rolled her eyes.

Matt spent the rest of the evening not really listening to what anyone was saying. He could t believe how much his team and their wives and girlfriends disliked Kaitlin. The more he thought about things the more he realized he had been missing all the signs. Kaitlin rarely came to games and when she did she always brought a work friend and didn’t sit with the other girls. She never went to any WAG gatherings or out with them for dinner or drinks. And here was Leighton, someone who had been absent for 4 years, fitting seamlessly into the mix, laughing and joking with them over drinks. It didn’t add up and it was frustrating. It was even more frustrating when he found her leaned over the bar top talking with the bartender.

Tall, black hair, well built. She definitely had a type.

He cleared his throat as he approached, causing her to turn to him. It was almost 1 am, and he was mad and tired.

“ Hey, it’s getting late. Are you ready?” She turned and smiled at him but shook her head.

“Actually.” She glanced at the bartender “ I think I’m gonna stay.” The bartender was giving him a smug look. He had watched him give Leighton one too many once overs and flirty smiles, and he wanted nothing more than to punch the guy in the face for doing it, which didn’t make any sense.

She was his ex girlfriend. He had moved on, why couldn’t she? She was too good, too special to be thinking about going home with a bartender with bad tattoos and no real value for her. He couldn’t tell her not to, but he could try.

Mat reached for her hand pulling her to him “ He’s not good enough for you.” He whispered and turned walking through the crowd and put into the night air. Leighton stood mouth open watching him leave.

“So anyway I get off in-“ the bartender said leaning forward but Leighton had walked away from him, following Mat outside. Who did he think he was? He couldn’t say that to her. He was engaged, and here he was trying to make her feel bad about flirting with a guy she wasn’t even going to call again.

He was on his phone ordering an Uber when he heard the door bang open.

“Hey!” He spun to find Leighton standing on the steps hands balled into fists at her sides. She looked angry, her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed.

“Don’t say things like that to me!”

“Leighton I-“

“He’s not good enough for you? I don’t need you inside my head anymore. It’s not up to you to decide that for me. You have fiancé, you moved on. Why can’t I ?”

“I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant -“

“No! I don’t care how you meant it. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to kaitlin either!” She gave him one last glare before she stormed back inside.

He let his head fall back and huffed out a breath. He knew he was being stupid, and unfair to everyone including himself. He slipped into his Uber mind going a million miles a minute.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

********

“I’m ready to leave.” Ginny turned and found Leighton flushed and angry behind her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just ready to leave.”

“Okay.” Without a seconds hesitation she tossed her drink back, and paid her tab following Leighton out the front of the bar. As soon as the door shut Leighton exploded. She was talking so fast and so angrily Ginny could barely understand what she was saying but got the gist of it.

“And then he said ‘He’s not good enough for you’. What the hell does that even mean? He can’t say that to me!”

“Oh you two. I wish you could just both realize you still love each other and fix this whole mess.”

“I don’t love him.” Leighton said scoffing and folding her arms as they walked and argued.

“Oh my god, shut up L. Be honest about this for once in your life.”

“I’m done taking about this.” She snapped. They walked the rest of the way in silence each slamming their bedroom doors. They threw themselves into bed, stewing for a few moments before pulling out their phones. They both had multiple notifications, tagged posts and follow requests from various teammates and wives. Leighton liked them all, even making plans for shopping with a few and she and Ginny had been invited to dinner with others. She sighed and rolled over, tossing her phone aside, before she spoke out loud to the darkness.

“I hate you Mat Barzal.”

********

1,339 miles away Kaitlin washed her face and go ready for bed in her hotel room. She settled in and pulled her phone out as she turned the tv on and flicked the lamp off. She scrolled through Instagram and immediately noticed several groupings of photos from some of the other wags. She scrolled through a feeling of dread coming over her.

Leighton and Ginny were both in many of the photos, smiling and toasting with drinks like they had known them forever. They looked so natural, like it was where they belonged. All the wags had already followed both of them, commenting back and forth and arranging to get together. She got more annoyed as she scrolled but when she scrolled to the last picture she got angry.

Mat and Leighton were standing smiling at each other, a candid photo taken by Lauren Eberle. He was looking at Leighton like Kaitlin had always wanted him to look at her. She closed the app, and put the phone down, blinking away angry tears.

Things were going to change when she got back to Long Island.

#mat barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fandom #hockey writing #hockey tumblr #hockeyblr #hockey blurbs #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl fic #new york islanders

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marianne-zemo · 3 years

Text

First race

So, I guess I'm doing it, this is the first fanfiction I've written in four years and my second time writing smut so please, bear that in mind, it might be awful 😅 Also, English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes. GIF not mine!

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), slight degradation, choking (light but still) unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it kids!), probably bad writing, Niki being a little mean and a little ooc, cursing. Reader insert, no use of Y/N. (Also, I know nothing about racing so I'm sorry if the description of the race sucks 😅)

I think that's all, let me know if I missed something!

Standing near the entrance of the stadium, you were craning your neck, trying to find your friend in the crowd of people who came to watch the race. You weren't particularly thrilled at the idea of having to sit there for god knows how long watching the cars go by at top speed but your friend's been persistent and you've run out of excuses so you reluctantly agreed.

"Hey, there you are!" you've heard your friend's voice on your left so you turned around quickly, trying not to spill the drinks on your t-shirt. "Hey, yeah, I thought you were already up there", you said while pointing your unoccupied hand towards the seats. "Here, I bought some drinks."

"Well, I was trying to get to the trailers to see the racers but the security guard kicked me out." Your friend replied with a sour look on her face and reached for one of the cups. "Thanks for that, so, shall we?"

You nodded and started making your way through the mass of people blocking the stairs. The second you sat down you've heard one of the commentators announce that the race will begin shortly. You took out your phone to check the emails when you noticed the shirt your friend has put on. It was blue with yellow stripes and in the middle, there was an image of a young man in a racing suit. You looked at your friend and raised your eyebrow in a silent question. She blushed and quickly explained that she bought the shirt from one of the guys standing on the parking lot near the track.

"Do you even know who this guy is or did you just buy it to look like you support anyone down there?" She looked at you surprised.

"Did you do any kind of research before coming here with me?" She asked with disbelief. You just shook your head. "I told you, I know nothing about racing, I came because you asked me to."

She just sighed and quickly started explaining while watching the cars drive in their positions. "The man on my shirt is James Hunt, it's the one getting in the pole position right now," she said while pointing at the mostly blue car in the front. "He drives for McLaren and he's something of a novelty in racing. He won last year's Grand Prix so now he has a couple of points on Lauda and huge chances of winning this season as well."

She pointed at Lauda's red car just as the gun announced the beginning of the race. "Now, Niki Lauda races for Ferrari and he's a great driver but he had an accident last year and a lot of people say that this is the only reason why Hunt won that season. He's also a giant asshole, you should see some of the interviews, he changes publicists more often than James changes women." Your friend snickered and you both turned your attention to one of the screens around the stadium in time to see a black car spinning out of the track on the third bend with smoke coming from under the mask of the vehicle.

"So, Hunt is a womanizer?" You asked while the commentator explained who had to end the race and likely reasons for the smoking engine. "Yeah, he's young and handsome so fans are obviously tripping over themselves to get his attention and he gives it happily. He also invites a lot of them to the parties at his house, and, if you want to believe the rumors, more often than not at least one person gets to have a private tour around his bedroom."

Your friend explained with a small smirk and it was then that you've noticed the heels and a rather short for this kind of weather skirt that she chose to wear. "Mhm, so the way I see it, you invited me to watch the race just to ditch me, later on, to try and get an invitation to said party, yeah?"

She blushed and pretended to watch the screen while fiddling with her bracelet. "I mean, you could always come with me, a party is a party plus there are free drinks and food," she glanced at you with hope with her eyes.

"I make no promises but maybe if he wins-" you got cut off by the loud cheering that echoed around the track. Both of you looked at the screen and you were able to see Hunt's car passing the red Ferrari and beginning its third and last lap. You've spent the rest of the race listening to the commentators and throwing your comments here and there when something particularly unexpected happened.

Suddenly the whole stadium stood up screaming and cheering when the McLaren and Ferrari cars appeared on the screen, coming out of the last bend and into the home stretch before the finishing line. From the distance you couldn't make out who was leading, they were going neck and neck but then Hunt's engine whirled louder and he crossed the line a second before Lauda. The next couple of minutes were a blur, people cheering and running to the platform to meet the winner while the racers were on their cooling-off lap. You've lost your friend somewhere in the crowd but since you've decided not to go to the party, you wandered around the track, stopping next to the Ferrari, admiring its design and how well taken care of it looked.

"And what, pray tell, are you doing?" You quickly turned around and came face to face with Niki Lauda. His racing suit was slightly open, letting you see the silver medal hanging around his neck. Now, without his helmet, you were able to see where did the 'ratty' part of his nickname come from, although surprisingly enough you found him rather attractive. His eyes were a nice shade of brown and his slightly curly hair framed his face in a way that made him look almost like a little cupid. Pouty and dissatisfied but still adorable.

"I- I was just admiring your car, you take good care of it," you replied, your voice coming out somewhat shaky but you managed not to stumble backward despite his intimidating stare.

"Shouldn't you be with the rest of those screaming idiots, trying to get into Hunt's bed?" He asked, nodding his head in the direction of his opponent laughing and signing his autograph on one of the girl's cleavage.

"Hey, watch it! My friend is there," you said with indignation, slightly raising your voice. "And you don't need to be such an asshole, could've just told me to leave. Manners don't hurt you know?"

He raised his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your little outburst and you heard him mumble something under his nose before you could walk away.

"What was that?" You asked, expecting to hear yet another insult, this time thrown your way, however, you were surprised when he slightly louder repeated "I asked if you'd like to go for a ride, I assure you, it drives as good as it looks."

You glanced at him with disbelief noticing a slight blush on his face and, judging by the way he was avoiding your eyes, you knew you heard him correctly. You thought about this for a moment and after realizing that this is once in a lifetime opportunity, you shrugged your arms before answering him. "If you're serious, then yeah why not. But where am I supposed to sit?"

Lauda was already in the car holding up another helmet for you to put on and he smirked softly while pointing on his lap. "Well, there's a lot of space here," however, noticing your clear embarrassment he added softly "no need to be shy liebling, it's alright if you've changed your mind."

You shook your head slightly, putting on the helmet and sitting on his lap before you could change your mind. There's no way you were backing off now. It was a tight fit, the vehicle clearly not designed for more than one person but you pulled it off somehow and seconds later you've felt the engine whirl to life as Niki turned the key in the ignition.

He started slow, not wanting to scare you right away but after the first bend, you felt him press harder on the gas, speeding up and not losing the speed even on the sharp turns. The way he was driving, confident, and focused made you feel safe and you found yourself giggling with joy with every bend he took. You were still smiling when he finally parked in his trailer and took off both yours and his helmet.

"So, did you like it?" He asked with a small smile when he noticed the way your eyes sparkled with glee."Yeah, I did, thank you, Niki," you replied softly, reaching your hand to brush his locks away from his face. Something changed in his eyes at the small gesture and he pressed his cheek in your palm making you gasp and you focused on the way he quickly licked his lips, shifting beneath you. Before you could talk yourself out of this you leaned down to softly press your lips against his and he responded immediately, one of his hands going to the back of your neck while the other explored your side and the gentle curve of your breasts.

Niki dominated the kiss, making you moan and you shifted yourself, now fully straddling his lap and grinding against him. You felt more than heard the loud groan that came out of his throat, "come on, wrap your arms around me," you heard him mumble against your lips and quickly wound your arms around his neck. He stood up, somehow managing to maneuver you both out of the vehicle, and sat you down on the table while sucking hickeys on the side of your throat and making you whine.

He pulled away, admiring his work and you took that exact moment to go down on your knees in front of him and unzip his racing suit. He gave a choked moan once you've managed to pull his boxers enough to take him out and, not giving him a chance to say anything, you quickly took the tip of his cock in your mouth, humming at the slightly bitter taste.

"F- fuck, liebling, your mouth is a sin," you've heard him groan and you made eye contact while trying to take more of him into your mouth, swallowing once he reached the back of your throat. "Mein Gott, fuck!" He gave a small shout at the way you sucked him down and quickly pulled you off his cock and up to press a hard kiss to your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "You're something else schatz, but I need to fuck you."

He quickly got rid of your jeans while you took off your t-shirt and he kneeled in front of the table between your spread legs. Niki pulled your panties down and quickly swiped two fingers through your folds making you tremble with excitement. "Look at that darling, you're soaked. Did having my cock in your mouth make you so wet?"

You whined softly and canted your hips upwards trying to get him to touch you properly. "Niki...please," he chuckled softly and pushed his fingers inside you curling them in a come hitcher motion while his tongue started making circles around your clit causing you to moan loudly and clench around his digits. His answering groan sent vibrations through you and your hand made a home in his hair pressing him harder against your dripping folds. You've been on edge ever since that make out in his vehicle so you can already feel an intense heat spreading inside of you, making you arch your back.

"F-fuck, just like that, please baby - ah - don't stop, God, Niki!" You came with a drawn-out whine of his name, shaking and soaking his hand with your wetness. He got up with a smirk on his thin lips and put the fingers that were inside you seconds ago in your mouth and watched as you sucked on them, moaning at the taste of yourself on his skin.

Niki grabbed the base of his cock and ground against you, lubricating himself with your juices before pushing slowly inside you. You both groaned once he was fully in and he put his mouth around your nipple sucking and biting slowly while letting you get used to his size. "Mov - ah - please move", you whimpered and he slowly started moving his hips back and forth gaining the tempo with every sound you made.

One of his hands made its way to your thigh, squeezing so hard that it was sure to leave bruises but you didn't mind. His cock was hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, making you clench around him which in turn made him growl and fuck you harder. "Fuck, you feel so good around me schatz, so tight, so - fuck - so wet."

You moaned at the praise and grabbed his right hand, putting it around your throat. He looked at you surprised and gave an experimental squeeze groaning when he felt you clench around him. "Dirty girl, you like being choked? Fuck, look at you, moaning like a whore - ah - so desperate for my cock." He taunted while pistoning his hips in and out of you and squeezing your neck tighter as his left thumb made tight circles around your clit bringing you closer to the edge.

"Yes - fuck - I'm your whore Niki, please, 'm yours, just d-don't stop, plea-". He pressed his lips against yours cutting you off and growling in the kiss, "I'm not gonna last much longer Liebling, you feel too good - scheiße - gonna be a good girl for me? Come on, come around me, milk my cock like a good little cum slut".

His words combined with his hand around your throat and his thumb stroking your clit were what made you come. You felt the coil inside you snap and you let out a long moan, your back arched off the table and your legs were shaking around his waist as you let the pleasure consume you. Your heart was beating in your ears and you barely heard the way he groaned out your name, his hips stuttering and you felt his cock twitch inside you before you felt him painting your walls with his come.

Niki rested his head in the crook of your neck, panting harshly while you were coming down from your high. He looked up at you and you were surprised at the soft smile gracing his lips and he straightened himself kissing you gently and slowly pulling out of you. He made quick work of cleaning both of you up and put an arm around your waist, helping you stand. Your legs were still shaking slightly and you leaned into him for support as he pressed a kiss to your forehead looking down at you with adoration.

You felt your face heating up, not expecting to see this gentle side of him and he fished out a small card from the pocket of his suit, giving it to you with a hopeful look in his brown eyes.

"Join me for dinner tomorrow?" He asked, slightly uncertain and you beamed up at him. "I'd like that," you replied and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before making your way out of the garage. You turned around one last time catching him checking out your ass and laughed at his satisfied smirk, not even slightly embarrassed at being caught. You left the track, the card with his number in your hand and a huge grin on your face. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

#niki lauda x reader #daniel brühl x reader #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl fanfiction #niki lauda x you #niki lauda #daniel brühl x you #daniel bruhl x reader #oh god im not ready #can't believe i'm doing this #oh god oh fuck #it's smutty #i already regret this

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voxmortuus · 3 years

Text

Silly Crush | POSSIBLE CHAPTER SERIES

Stu Macher x F!Reader

Scream FanFic

TW: Fluff, mild language, heated make-out session

Forgive my writing. It’s been a while.

GIF created by @2026

Late summer of 1996, just before school starts back up again. The summer fair had come to town, this year it decided to not skip town, the weather was perfect for it! Being the loner you usually steered clear of these things, but you had befriended Tatum and Sidney. It was nice to have friends that you could talk to, to trust, plus the added perks of Stu's flirtatious nature, though you could never bear to tell him that you had a crush on him, you'd be risking your friendship and likely look foolish, there was no way you thought that Stu would be into someone like you... I mean, after all, he was Stu Macher, he and Billy were kind of known around Woodsboro High.

Slipping into your favorite pair of black overalls, one strap off, and slipping on a black crop top and a pair of black LEI black platforms a touch of makeup, and braided your hair into long pigtails, and headed out. Tatum loved your outfit. "We'll meet the guys there, Stu had to do something." Tatum chirped while you hopped into her red Volkswagen bug and takes off down the road. "What did have to do?" You casually ask. "Something with Billy, said they'd show up after, some project they're working on." Sidney chimed in. "Yeah something stupid important." Tatum mocked. With a chuckle, you shake your head and watch out the window.

Getting out of the car after she parked it you three look around and decide to head to the benches waiting for the two boys to arrive. Tatum played with her gum and Sidney reading a book, you sat there, people watching, three unlikely friends, but so far so good, this was going to be good for you, real good, so you hoped, minus the odd guilt of crushing on Tatum's man. Letting out a soft breath, Stu and Billy approach from behind startling their better halves. Stu looks at you and gives you a sweet smile. "Hey Y/N. Glad you made it." It could be he was being nice, but the feeling behind his words was something more. You give a kind smile back and flush slightly. "Me too." Clearing your throat and with a side stare from Tatum and a smile from Sidney the girls hop up and look around.

Without any hesitation Tatum looks a Stu, "It's time for that big blue dog you promised me!" She grinned taking his hand and dragging him away. Sidney looked at Billy, "Ferris Wheel?" with a shrug and a nod. "Sure." Sidney looks at you. "You can come if you'd like." You shake your head and give a smile. "Nah, I'll be good, I'll be here. It's just nice to get out of the house." Sidney nods and pats your shoulder before she and Billy take off to the wheel while you sat there, alone, like always. "I knew this was a bad idea." you tell yourself before letting out a sigh and slump on the bench picking at your glitter nail polish and staring at the ground a bit.

After a few hours had passed Tatum started to feel sick, of course, that's what happens when one inhales two cotton candies and a thing of funnel cake and a corn dog and a diet soda. She looks at you. "Hey, I'm going to head home, thanks for coming with us, Stu is going to take you home if that's alright?" You look at her "Yeah, that's fine. Feel better." You tell her. "Billy, Sidney you ready?" she askes them almost feeling ignored you look down at the ground, your jaw clenches, Sidney touches your shoulder again and the three of them take off. Stu sits next to you and looks ahead of himself. "You know, she doesn't mean to be a bitch all the time." You look up and over at him and arch a brow. "She's not a bitch, just, set in her ways." With a chuckle, he shakes his head. "No need to be polite. She brought you here and ditched you. Personally Bitch move." He stated

Shaking your head you know how people like that can be, you slump a bit more. "Nothing like being a third wheel." you chuckle. "It's alright though, it was nice to get out of the house." you state with a soft voice and maybe some optimism. Looking at you he smiled. "How about I make up for it?" You quickly shake your head and smile. "You don't have to, there's nothing to make up for." Shaking his head again. "I don't think you understand. Let me make it up to you. I don't think I'm giving you much of a choice." Clearing your throat you look down and pick at your nails again and nod your head. "Okay Stu."

Standing up he takes your hand and your whole body gets warm, flushed, and nervous as he takes you to win you that blue dog he botched trying to get for Tatum. "Until I win the big blue one Merve." He tells the man behind the counter. "Anything for you Stu." He chuckles and hands him some baseballs. You watch as he looks at you. "I'm bad at this." He laughs throwing a few, "Not too bad." you reassure him. After a good five minutes, he wins you the large blue dog, smiling you bite your lip taking the dog. "Thank you," you tell the man and then at Stu. "And thank you. I have the perfect spot for him in my room." You beam a smile nuzzling into the dog a bit.

"Next stop!" He takes your hand and takes you to get something to eat. You blush a bit as he took it upon himself to order for you. Taking a seat a the picnic benches Stu looks at you and looks around. "There are a few more stops before we hit the big ending." He nodded to the Ferris wheel. Biting your lip and taking a bite of your burger you look at him and back at the end of the strip and let out a shaky breath. Nerves are going to get the better of you, you know this and grip the large paw of the dog and look at Stu. "Thank you, for all of this so far." He laughed. "Don't thank me until the end." He tells you.

Finishing food he takes you to the water guns, the ball toss and ends up winning you a goldfish, the thunderbolt, and last but not least, you two are standing in line for the Ferris Wheel, your stomach is turning, nerves, the Ferris wheel was a special ride. "We don't have to do this." You tell him. "Nonsense, we're going." He laughs taking your hand and getting into a cart and closes the door. Placing the dog and the bag with the goldfish on the bench across the way Stu decides to sit next to you with his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. Taking in his cheap cologne your eyes close, feeling this odd sense of safety.

The ride takes off and you jump a little and he pulls you closer. "Heights make me uneasy." you tell him, looking down at you. "I'll protect you." He tells you with a cheeky grin and looks around. "Thank you for tonight, I'm glad I came." She smiled. "I'm glad you came too." A few times around the wheel stops, Looking around Stu chuckles. "Uhhh, bad news, we're going to be stuck here for a bit." Your eyes grow wide and you get closer to him and bite your lip harder. Stu holds you petting your head a bet and you look up. "Well I guess, we should talk... I need to distract myself. I'm a horrible friend Stu." You tell him.

With an arched brow, he looks at you, "How so?" you fidget and he looks at you, waiting for you to speak. "I've uhh, I've got this thing for someone, and this someone has someone, and this someone's someone had befriended me this summer and I feel like a bad friend for liking this someone." You state, "Vague... I'm sure Sidney would understand, everyone's got a thing for Billy." He moves away a little bit. Shaking your head you look up at him. "No Stu, I like you, and Tatum would have a cow if she found out." Stu looks at you. "You like me?" He asks you, nodding your head he chuckles and smiles. "I like you." He tells you.

With a nervous laugh, you lean into him and bite on your lip. He looks down at you, and tilts your head up, and presses his lips to yours, his hand resting on the side of your neck as you grip his shirt and press into the kiss a bit more. His tongue dances with yours as the kiss becomes a bit more heated, his hand moves from your neck to your breast gripping it in his hand as the other pulls you closer. He pulls you on top of him and you look over his face, moving your hips a bit and he lets off a soft groan, pulling you closer back into a kiss as his hands rest on your butt pulling you even closer, any closer and you'd melt into him. His hand slips under your shirt playing with the perky bit of flesh and the suppleness of your breast while your fingers play with his hairline.

Tongues dancing together he lifts his hips up into yours. Looking over his face. "We shouldn't do this here, not here, and it's too quick, and I... Stu..." Stu looks at you. "Yeah Y/N?" He askes with a smile. "Do you love Tatum?" You ask him. "I wouldn't call it love, she's annoying, needy, and overly clingy... I offered to take you home, I wanted to tell you I liked you, and was hoping that maybe you'd be my girl." He looked over your face. Hugging him you nuzzle into his neck. "Yes, absolutely. Tatum is going to shit." You chuckle shaking your head. "She will at first, but she'll find someone else to occupy her time." He smirked and places you next to him and fixed your shirt, taking care of you, holding you close.

The wheel starts moving again and when you two get off the wheel, he smiles taking your hand, and escorts you to his car where he then takes you home. "I'll come by tomorrow we'll go see a movie or something. After I tell Tatum see ya." He chuckled planting a kiss on your lips before you get out of the car and make your way inside with your dog and fish. Your mother looks at you. "Well well, looks like you had fun." You smirk big and nod. "Night mum. Love you." You kiss her cheek and rush upstairs. Putting the fish in a bowl and the dog on the foot of the bed you strip down into something comfortable grab your journal and being to write. "Dear Diary, Tonight, was the best night EVER!"

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If you want to be tagged let me know. This is the first of many stories! I am also taking requests!

@luciferslittleastre

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theshelbyclan · 4 years

Text

Family Secrets

Summary: Polly finally lets slip what the real Shelby curse is and as the youngest Shelby, with a little encouragement from John, you feel obligated to use it to your own advantage

(Gif by @mistress-gif) A/N: I wrote this one when I couldn’t sleep, a long time ago, fuelled by my own frustration of being picked on as the youngest. This has been a headcanon of mine for ages and I finally put it to paper. I never had any intention of posting it, but because I’ve reached the 500 followers mark, I decided to share. It’s short, fluffy and a lot lighter than the actual series. Enjoy!

Words: 3220

***

“Give me the fucking book, John!” you bellowed through the kitchen. Your aunt was adamant that you’d all eat together, one day a week, on Sunday. These dinners were great and important, but they always ended in chaos. Tommy usually left early to get on with work, so he was never part of the sibling banter that ensued.

You had just finished eating and while Aunt Polly was busy clearing the dishes, you thought you could read a little. How wrong you were.

Holding the book out of your reach, the most annoying brother in the world was grinning broadly at you. “I will punch you in the fucking throat…” you threatened. This only made John laugh harder and he threw the book over your head towards Arthur who caught it nimbly. “How about me, little sister,” Arthur said playfully, “Are you going to cut me?” With a sigh you turned around and made another failed attempt at grabbing the book. Arthur threw the book back at John and a little game had started that you had no energy for. Still, you wanted that fucking book. “Forget the book, Y/N,” Ada commented from behind her own book, “Let them have their fun.”

But you were too stubborn for your own good, “I’ll be damned if I let them win…” which gave rise to more laughter from your brothers. So you grabbed the nearest tea towel and threw it in Arthur’s face. Before he could remove it, you pounced and actually felt the book beneath your fingers now. Polly paused her work and watched the scene with interest, partially because it was sweet, in a very Shelby manner, and partially because she wanted to put a stop to it before her kitchen got destroyed. You were so close, but Arthur grabbed you around your waist and managed to get the book back to John. Now you were well and truly stuck. “Right, what now?” he teased in a low voice. “Get the fuck off!” you screamed, when John walked over to you and dangled the book in front of you. Stretching out your arms as much as you could, you could almost reach it. But John, evil as he was, used his other hand to tickle your ribs and you immediately crumpled down in Arthur’s arms. The second brother soon joined in and now you were being attacked by two pairs of hands. You dissolved in a mess of giggles within seconds and there was nothing you could do. Sliding down onto the floor, with very little hope of rescue from your sister or aunt, you were at their mercy completely. And then, like some miracle, Ada intervened. She grabbed John by the collar and pulled him back. You gasped for breath as soon as you could. “She’s had enough, John,” Ada said sternly, “Back off, or you’re next.” Arthur looked down on you with a huge grin on his face, “Ada, we both know she can take much more than that…” “Noo!” you whined and without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you rolled away on your stomach across the kitchen until you bumped into your aunt. “Should’ve punched him in the throat,” she said softly to you. “Don’t be a baby!” John called out, “It’s your own fault.” “How the fuck is it my fault?” you replied indignantly from the floor. “For being so fucking sensitive,” John grinned. Arthur joined in, “That’s right. Just turn it off.” You rolled your eyes almost audibly.

John scoffed and pushed Ada away, “You’re fourteen now, Y/N. Time to learn.”

Polly turned around swiftly, “Oh, like you ever did!”

“What?” your head shot up.

Ada looked at you with a smirk, “What, you thought you were the only one?”

As you got to your feet, Polly helped you up and said meaningfully, “That’s the real family curse, sweetheart.”

Years of them pinning you down and teasing you bubbled up in frustration, “Are you saying that I’ve been going through torture for all these years, thinking that it was just me, when all this time…”

Arthur shrugged, “You’re the youngest and smallest. Comes with the territory.”

“Besides, we’re stronger,” John added smugly. He was right of course, which made it all the more annoying.

Polly threw down the washing cloth and theatrically said, “Welcome to the Shelby family, feared by all in Birmingham and where everyone is ticklish as fuck!” Your entire worldview had been altered in seconds. Apparently this wasn’t news to your siblings, because they all looked completely unimpressed by this bit of information, while you stood there with your mouth hanging open in surprise. After thinking about all of this for a while, you asked, “Even Tommy?” “When we were kids we used to make fun of him,” John recalled with a glint in his eyes, “It’s just his ribs, but if you poke him suddenly, he literally jumps.” “He went absolutely feral,” Arthur nodded. An idea was taking shape in your head, “Would that still work, you think?” “You’ll only get yourself killed,” Ada commented in her usual bored tone of voice. “Do it!” John urged, “Come Ada, you know she’ll get away with it.” You and John had always been the most mischievous in the family and you shared a look with a similar twinkle in your eyes. You finally knew something Tommy didn’t know. This was your one chance to catch Thomas Shelby by surprise. ***

For the next couple of days, you tried to get your brother alone. It was strange, because on the one hand you couldn’t wait to try out your plan. Envisioning how he would react was brilliant already, but the feeling of power you had was even greater. However, you also feared his reaction. Thomas Shelby was a busy man and he had very little time for anyone these days. When he did spend time with you, it was short and it often involved him reprimanding you. In all honesty, you were a little scared of him, but not scared enough to let a prank like this one go to waste. You’d deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

John might’ve been even more excited than you were and whenever Tommy left to go somewhere on his own, he motioned you frantically to follow him. Finding the right time proved almost impossible though. So you decided just to get on with it. This was the day you would find out if your brother shared the family curse. Unfortunately, he’d been in a bad mood all day. He’d called a family meeting at breakfast and had left quickly after that. They’d all reconvene in the evening. Dodging all your other responsibilities, you shadowed Tommy for most of the day, but he had one business meeting after the other. His mood was getting darker and darker, and you began to wonder if you were actually suicidal. But then, unexpectedly, you found yourself alone with him outside. “Y/N,” he said strictly, “Tell me what’s going on.” You’d come outside for some peace, because today was one of the busiest days at the shop and you’d had enough of the noise. Outside, you planned on reading your book and you’d forgotten about Tommy for a minute. Until he had appeared suddenly. “Nothing,” you said, looking up.

“Then why have you been following me all day, eh?” He sounded annoyed almost and all courage left you.

Improvising quickly, you said, “Missed you at dinner last Sunday.” “I was there,” he lit a cigarette and sat down next to you on the stone steps.

“For five whole minutes…”

“There was business to attend to.” “And there’s family to attend to as well,” you replied, without missing a beat. Silently, he side-eyed you and a small smirk played around his lips, “You’re right, I’ll do better next week. Am I forgiven?” “No,” you feigned anger. He turned his head towards you and he smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

The bond you had with Tommy was a complicated one. In many ways you were very similar, but the war had changed him the most. Sometimes you felt like you’d lost him completely, when you thought of how you used to talk and laugh with him when you were younger. These moments were so rare now. And these exact thoughts did the trick and you decided that you had to be the one to make that old Tommy come back, if only a little. So you said a silent prayer, decided not to overthink it and poked him in the ribs once. The effect was immediate. Thomas Shelby shot up and nearly rocketed himself off the steps. With a wild look of betrayal he turned his eyes on you and you almost burst out laughing. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked innocently.

He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and sat back down. Apparently, we’re pretending this never happened, you thought.

A few seconds of awkward silence later, you poked him again. This time, a small yelp escaped him. The most feared gangster in Birmingham yelped, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing any longer.

As you were still trying to regain composure, Tommy pointed at you with a menacing finger, “Do that again and you will not live to tell the fucking tale.” You could only snort in reply. He was trying so hard to act all scary and while that had an effect on most people, you just couldn’t be bothered right now: It was too funny. Besides, you thought you could detect just a hint of mirth behind those pale blue eyes and decided to risk everything on just that.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows, “Do it again, I fucking dare you, and see what happens.” So you did it again.

In a flash, he was up and dove for you. But you were faster and jumped out of the way. Like the two of you were a part of a bad play, you started circling each other around the small yard. Neither said a word and seconds felt like hours. Then Arthur called from inside the house, “Tom!”

“You called a family meeting,” you reminded him, while relaxing a little at the prospect of escape.

Tommy’s eyes stayed on you and he cleared his throat again, “Fuck, alright. You’re coming with me.” And he lifted you up and threw you over one shoulder. Your shrieks filled the house as he walked through the betting den, over to the table where the family was already gathered, with you still on his shoulder. Without blinking, the leader of the Peaky Blinders announced, “Right, well you’re all here. Let’s talk business quickly…” Aunt Polly pointed vaguely at your arse, which was sticking up in the air, “You do realise you have my niece in your arms?” “Well aware, Poll,” Tommy continued, like it was the most normal thing in the world, “Business! We’ve done well this week. John’s shown me the books and we’re making more money than ever. Next week, we’re buying a new horse and I’m going to race her.” Flabbergasted, the family stared at Tommy. You could see the million questions on their faces, but they decided to wait until he was done talking. You had also refrained from protesting by now. “Poll, as treasurer I need your permission to buy the horse.” She blinked a few times and mumbled, “Buy the horse. Y/N‘s still…” Tommy held up a hand, “Not finished,” and everyone closed their mouths again, “John, I need you to talk to that old widow down the road. She’s recently lost her son and she should become part of our fund. Arthur, for fucks sake, get the books from the Garrison in order.” “It’s those bloody numbers, Tom…” Arthur grumbled in reply. “Are we all clear on what to do?” Tommy finished off in a hurry. When no one replied, he answered for them, “Good!” With this he plucked you down from his shoulder and held you in his arms bridal style. With a grave and business-like tone he announced, “As you all know, this is Y/N Shelby, youngest member of the family. While we were away in France, she kept the fort and she has often provided us with some relief in times of stress ever since we’ve come back. But not anymore.” John started to get nervous and looked from you to Tommy. Had they gone too far this time? But then he saw Arthur grinning and even Ada had a small smile on her face, so he knew Tommy was only playing. “Gentlemen,” Tommy continued, “This is the day that Y/N Shelby dies. Say goodbye to your sister.”

And that’s when you decided not to await your fate, so you made a sudden movement and jumped out of Tommy’s arms. Dashing past the table, you sought refuge behind Polly’s back.

“Told you this would happen, Y/N,” Ada said, not helping at all.

For some reason, Polly got up and left the room, while stating triumphantly, “The secret’s out, Thomas. Deal with it.” Now you just had an empty chair for protection. Tommy pointed at you directly and practically growled, “And it’s going back in.” With three of the largest steps he was at your side once again.

So you held up your hands, “Okay, wait, I can explain.”

“Too late, little sister,” Tommy said in a low voice, “These are family secrets that are not spoken of.”

“You’re such a drama queen, Tommy,” your sister commented, while getting up to leave. And all you could think was: why would you leave me alone with these mad bastards?

You really should’ve known better but decided to go for the cocky approach, “There’s no point in trying to scare me now, Tommy, knowing what I know.” You raised your eyebrows in an attempt to show him you were still in control. You weren’t. In a flash he’d tackled you to the floor and had you pinned down, while whispering ominously, “You picked the wrong brother to fuck with, Y/N Shelby.”

And for the second time in a week, you cursed your own sensitive skin as dexterous hands attacked your sides. Incapable of little but laughing and screaming, you flailed around hopelessly. Tommy’s face was slowly softening into a smile as well.

“Tommy!” you pleaded between giggles, “It was John, not me!” “Was it now?” he taunted without stilling his fingers, “And who was the fool to listen to his ideas, eh?” He moved up to your ribs, which made the pitch of your laughter increase. “Toohoohoom! Wait!”

Now, it was no secret that your major weakness in life was your sensitivity. Usually it was John who took the most advantage of it, being the mad joker that he was, but he often got Finn or Arthur to join in. Arthur on his own could be absolutely brutal, which was due to his strength as well, so there was no hope for you at all. Ada didn’t bother much, but when she did, she was merciless, much like Polly. But Tommy, he was a whole other story. You didn’t have many moments like this with him anymore, but when he did play and did get his hands on you, it was hell. He knew exactly how to reduce you to a small heap of giggles, pleading for your life and regretting all life choices up to that point. And this was happening right now. His smile was widening and he shook his head, “You thought you could beat me, eh?” “Yeheeeheees,” you admitted. Then he stopped for a second, allowing you to breathe, “Alright, you little devil, I’ll give you one a chance to speak.”

Residual giggles were pouring from your mouth, “Never… listen… to… John.” Tommy looked up at his younger brother who was showing zero remorse on his face, and he nodded slowly, “Good. What else?” “I’ve learned that Thomas Shelby sounds like a girl when…” but you never got to finish that sentence, as he continued his assault.

“Wrong answer. And you are way to ticklish to have an attitude like that, Y/N,” he said calmly.

As he dragged your arms up and dug his hands under your arms, you squeezed your eyes shut, “NOOOO, I’M SOOHOORYYY!” “Are you?” he asked, now smiling broadly at your reaction, “Then tell me what you’ve fucking learned from this, eh?” “YOU DON’T FUCK WITH THE PEAKY BLINDERS!” you managed to shout out between laughs. “That’s right,” Arthur commented, watching the scene while sitting back in his chair, “Finally, she gets it.” Tommy paused and looked at both of his brothers, as if he was waiting for their verdict. “Nah,” John decided to cause more trouble, “I don’t think she has…” Still struggling unsuccessfully to get out of Tommy’s grasp, you shouted, “John, shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God…” Tommy rolled his eyes and interrupted you, “Get her, boys,” he called out, “Let’s teach our sister some respect for her brothers.” So now there were three brothers trying to keep you in place, while you were being tickled from all sides. Why did you listen to John? Why did you not know better than to challenge Tommy? Spluttering, kicking and fighting like crazy, you managed to kick them a little bit at least, but the fact that they were all grinning down on you still meant that it didn’t help much.

Tears leaking out of your eyes, you shrieked, “YOOOUAAHAHAH AHAHAHALL SUAHAHACK!”

Then Tommy stopped them and crossed his arms in front of him. The amusement was twinkling in his eyes, “Had enough?” “Yep,” you said quickly, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Whatever Polly has told you,” he widened his eyes and brought his face close to yours, “Family secrets are not spoken of.” “Fine!” you called out, “They’re not spoken of.” His smile grew again, “Remember this, Y/N. And remember this was nothing compared to what we can do and what I will do, if you ever feel the need to cross Thomas fucking Shelby again.” You got up, again, and brushed yourself off while sending a death-stare to each of your brothers. But when Tommy smiled at you, there was a certain warmth to it that you hadn’t seen in ages.

“Wankers…” you mumbled carefully. Tommy smirked slightly, “You brought this upon yourself, Y/N. Now you know what happens…” “…when you fuck with the Peaky Blinders. Bladibladibla…” you finished his sentence. Making your way to the door, you turned back for a moment, “To be fair, Tommy, I did just saw you jump up about a foot because you’re actually fucking ticklish. So much for the whole gangster act, I should say.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed, John burst out laughing and Arthur managed to shout out a quick “Oi!” And before anyone could react, you sprinted away. Somehow, this still felt like a victory. Sure, you were the youngest and probably the most sensitive in the family, but you had discovered your own weapon now. John would be next, just for setting you up. Arthur would involve more planning. But finding Tommy’s weakness, that was the real triumph. Behind you, you could hear Tommy sit down and sigh, “Well, boys, we’re well and truly fucked now…”

And you grinned to yourself. The game was on.

***

Masterlist

3K notes · View notes

twinklelilstarkey · 3 years

Note

Can I get a part 2 to least favorite please

The Least Favorite - Rafe Cameron [Part 2]

Words: 3k+

Type: Angst & Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drug consumption (cocaine). All that comes with fighting: blood, hair pulling, etc. Cursing.

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

Part 1

Credits (of the gif)

If you had to be honest, you don’t like the idea of parties. Especially the ones that Rafe likes to go to.

Yes, they can be fun. But only when you’re bat shit drunk, which isn’t the case today, or in majority of the days you come.

They’re just filled with rich people talking crap about the Pogues while either sniffing coke or doing something else that is way too expensive to even express out loud.

And since you’re neither a Pogue or a Kook, you never feel comfortable in any type of parties in the island.

In the kooks’: The girls are too show off-y (with their money, clothes or even boyfriend) and the guys are way too high or just too drunk. And even though you will always win the competition of who has the best “Kook boyfriend” (*wink wink*), they’ll never see you as an actual Kook. So, you’ve just learned to not even try to communicate.

At the Pogues’ parties, it’s almost the same thing. You never feel comfortable. All because people look at you as if you’re a full Kook. And since you date Rafe, things don’t get any easier for you.

Tourists are honestly the only people that you can actually have fun with, but they start to be more and more rare as the summer gets close to its end.

So, no. You’re almost never having fun in these parties.

You’ve walked away from Rafe to refill your cup, at least, 10 minutes ago. The kooks are way too wasted to step away from the beer outside. So, that only leaves you to go to get a drink in the kitchen. Exactly where everyone is either making out in the counter-tops or gossiping in the corner.

As refiling your cup, you start hearing over the loud music various shouts of girls and some ‘oooh’ from guys.

Which only means one thing. That there’s a fight going on.

Great.

You sip your overfilled cup and step away from the huge kitchen to follow the sound.

And... you’re right.

A fight is happening right in front of your eyes. Still verbal, but seconds away from becoming physical. And surprisingly, it’s between a random group of girls you’ve never seen before and Sarah Cameron, herself.

You haven’t talked to Sarah ever since the confrontation at her house, in which water magically flew at her face. You’ve also only been hanging out with Rafe at your house. So, yeah, it’s been a while since the last argument.

If you were still friends with her, you would step up in there and separate them before it got physical. But since you’re not, and that would only make things worse, you stay put on the kitchen doorway.

Sarah starts stepping in closer and closer to the girl’s face, provoking her into snapping. And it works.

The girl snaps and in record time her hands go straight to Sarah’s face. Acrylic nails ready to do damage to the kook princess’s face.

You sip your drink and study the room, letting the two girls fight it out as everyone stopped what they’re doing to watch.

Until something caught your eye. The girl’s friends are still standing very close to Sarah, smiling as the fight continues. Sometimes even eyeing each other. And that only means one thing, from what you’ve learned with all the fights Rafe has been involved in: they’re planning to jump in if the fight starts to get the better of their friend.

You down your drink as fast as you can and cringe at the burning sensation on your throat, throwing the cup into the bin in the kitchen.

The girls step forward and you do the same, still keeping a distance from them so they don’t see you as a threat just yet.

Sarah gets a good punch into the girl’s face and that is enough to make her stumble back slightly. You grin and Sarah wipes the blood off her cheek.

As soon as you see the girl coming back in full force towards Sarah, so do her friends. But you’re quick on your feet. You go through the stupid audience of teenagers to get behind them. And as one of the friends extends her arm to get to Sarah, who is already fighting the girl again, you grab an handful of the girl’s friend’s hair and pull her towards you.

The sound of cheers out of pure excitement and shock from drunk and high teenagers surround you as soon as that same girl falls into the ground beside you, away from Sarah.

The other friend turns towards you and also joins. Leaving you to fight two girls as Sarah fights the girl that started it all.

You don’t even know why this fight started in the first place but no one is being jumped on your watch.

As both you and Sarah land your clenched fists and open hands into the girls, everyone starts to get even more hyped. Calling their friends and everything.

A fist collides with your cheek as you fight one of the girls and you just see red. The metallic taste of blood coats your tongue and you pull the girl that you’re fighting to the ground before turning to the one that just hit you.

Rage is written all of your faces as you look at each other.

Sarah lifts her eyes to you as she gets some time to breathe and shock almost stops her from ducking the next hit.

As you two fight, the word of a fight happening travels fast through the boring party. Even faster than normal now that Sarah Cameron is involved.

Rafe was talking to Kelce when he heard the commotion inside the house. And right as it got louder, someone ran over towards them to yelled ‘GIRL FIGHT!!’.

That was enough to make them walk away and go check it out, still in someway focused in their conversation. Until...

“Since when does Sarah get into fights?” A girl shouts to her friend.

That makes both Rafe and Kelce move faster, and as they got to the front, the sight is just even worse than they expected.

You’re involved too?

“Grab Sarah” He tells Kelce.

The boy nods at his friend and does as told, equally not finding the fight entertaining to watch, unlike everyone else.

Some sober guys do the same when they notice what Rafe and Kelce were trying to do.

Rafe walks over to you and pulls you up from a girl that is already on the ground struggling to fight back, wrapping an arm over your torso and taking you back with him.

“You fucking bitch!” You scream as he pulls you away, “Try jumping Sarah one more fucking time and you’ll see what happens to you”

Rafe starts walking away while pulling you with him as he notices that the other girls are being held back too as they scream at you.

“Oh really? Want to try and do that?” The girl, you were just fighting, screams.

You escape Rafe’s arms for a quick second and run towards her bloody self, but he’s quicker than you.

“She’s not worth it, let’s go” Rafe tells you as he pulls you back against him.

You continue to scowl at the girl that continues to scream but you don’t move. Rafe ignores the girl’s words and pulls you with him, just taking a step back.

Kelce does the same with Sarah, risking his own untouched face when having to go around the girls to follow Rafe out.

“Keep your bitch away from us, Sarah!” One of the girl screams.

“Yeah. Before that whore gets what she deserves!”

Something in Sarah snaps.

She fights off Kelce’s arms and jumps on top of the girl that had just opened her mouth to insult you. Rafe when seeing it happen, pulls you with all his strength away from the whole fight and even the house.

“Sarah!” Kelce shouts, trying to pull her away from the girl that’s getting the beating of her life.

Someone appears next to him and helps him pull her away. Topper. Who, sadly, had just gotten to the party hoping to have a good time.

The two boys pull her away and drag her the same way Rafe dragged you out.

You lean back into Rafe’s car and take a few deep breaths as he stands next to you.

“What the fuck just happened?” Topper screams as he gets out of the house, loud enough for Rafe and you to look up at him.

You don’t answer and look at your feet, adrenaline running out of your body, making it shake uncontrollably and intensely.

“Want to go in the car?” Rafe asks, laying his hand on the back of your head carefully.

You shake your head and decide to take a seat on the floor, not wanting to get his car dirty with any blood. Rafe is careful to not come too close to you, afraid of you snapping at him.

Kelce, Top and Sarah get to the car and you watch Sarah as she wipes the blood off her nose and walks to take a seat on the ground, slightly away from you.

Everyone stays silent around you two, letting you calm down on your own. And only when it seemed pacific enough, they all took their seats next to you on the dirt ground.

You lean your pounding head on Rafe’s shoulder while closing your eyes, trying to ignore the anger that still bubbles in you.

You open your eyes once again to find Sarah staring back. You two stared at each other silently and a small grin lays over the lips of the both of you.

(...)

You scroll through your phone while sitting on the bed as Rafe sleeps peacefully with his head over your thigh.

It’s been at least 2 hours since the fight. You had all gone home almost an hour after, so everything and everyone is more than calm now.

Rafe took care of your wounds and tried to help Sarah, who didn’t say anything but a ‘no, thank you’ before locking herself in her room.

You two ignored that and also went to Rafe’s room, just to try and get some sleep. In which you can that it was easy for him.

Your fingers play with Rafe’s hair slowly and you sigh as sleep seems more distant as minutes go by. Rafe, unconsciously, leans into your soft touch and you smile when noticing.

A light knock on the bedroom door disrupts your peace and you look up, expecting to person to peek in. But he/she doesn’t even try to knock a second time.

You put down your phone on the night stand and unwrap Rafe’s arms from around you, before lifting his head carefully from your lap and laying it over the pillow.

He fidgets a bit as you stand up but calms down as you cover him back up with the covers.

You walk over to the door and open it slowly to find... no one. You frown and take a step out of room to check if the person is still around.

Sarah is walking over to her room.

“Sarah?” You whisper at her.

She turns around to you and stares as if conflicted with her own thoughts.

“Could you help me with something?” She asks.

You nod and walk out of Rafe’s room, closing the door behind you.

You walk over to her and she turns to make you follow her towards her room, where she has laid in her bed cotton balls and the med-kit.

“I can’t make myself do it” She says softly, closing the door behind the two of you.

So, you help her. You clean up her wounds despite her complains and whimpers. And once done, you’re left in the silence of her room while you put everything away.

“Than-” She starts, but stops, making you look at her. She looks like she’s questioning her own choice of words, “Thank you for helping me today”

You smile a bit and shrug.

“No worries” You answer.

The silence sets between you two again and you sit back on the bed, next to her.

“Need to get some fresh air” Sarah says, not wanting to deal with the awkward absence of noise, “Let’s go”.

She gets up from her bed quickly and runs towards her window, looking over her shoulder to check on you.

“Get your ass up. I’m not waiting for long”

A smile grows on your face and you get up from the bed as well, following her.

Sarah opens her window, jumping out to the rooftop in front of it, and you do the same, just slower, as Sarah sits comfortably on the hard surface.

You do the same and you notice that, this time, the silence is less awkward. The sound of random cars in the distance is enough to fill the air just right.

“I haven’t been up here in a while” You admit, looking at the water behind the deck, at the back of the house.

“This used to be our spot” She states.

You nod while hugging your legs, registering her words and soft tone. It sounds almost like how she spoke when you two were friends, before you started dating Rafe, of course.

Sarah laughs at her own thoughts and you look at her.

“I remember that we would throw these things at my dad and Rafe when they would talk on the porch” She says while lifting the fruit that the large tree next to the house grows and falls onto the ceiling.

You chuckle at her words, remembering right away.

“Or at Topper, so you’d get his attention” You add making her shake her head in disbelief.

“Oh, gosh. Don’t even remind me” She says, “That’s so embarrassing”

You continue to smile at the memories and the tense air slowly lifts off from between you two.

“Did you already like Rafe when we did that?” She asks, catching you off guard.

You stay silent for a second.

“Yeah, in some way” You admit, “It was just a small crush at that time, I think”

She nods with a smile while looking at the water.

“When did you start dating?” She asks and you look at her confused, “Sorry, I’m just curious”.

“At the midsummers, the one before we uhm... argued” You explain, feeling weird when talking about the main conflict that was treated for 2 years as the one that should not be named.

Sarah nods again, grabbing a dry leaf from beside her.

“Did you have a crush on him before we became friends?”

“You mean when we were 5?” You ask her in disbelief and she laughs at her words, almost as if finding it ridiculous of her to assume such thing.

“Well, did you?” She asks while holding her laughter and you smile.

“God no! He liked bugs and eating dirt!”

Sarah laughs out loud at your disgust and you smile while looking away into the streets, observing the neighbors walking home late.

The silence is set between the two of you again and you smile at the memories of small Rafe annoying the crap out of Sarah, as you would stand there and tell him to stop.

“I exaggerated” Sarah starts, making you look at her, “When you told me that you two had been seeing each other, or dating, I exaggerated. I uhm... I just hated the idea of Rafe having you all to himself and- I don’t know. I just felt awful that you had chosen him before me”

You stare at her confused.

“Sarah. You were my best friend, nothing or no one was going to be before you” You say, still confused with her confession, “Not even your brother”

“I know. My dad told me that right after our fight” She continues, “I just couldn’t admit that I was being a drama queen. Still couldn’t after two years, actually. I just went with it”

You don’t say anything.

“I know it was stupid. Gosh, it was the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done. But I just couldn’t admit that I was wrong, not after all I said”

You look away from her as she continues.

“And everything that I said that day. Or even anything I said for these 2 years. It’s all just awful. You didn’t deserve to hear any of that”

“I’m not a saint either, Sarah. I also said a lot of shi-”

“But not as bad as I did. I made you seem like a gold digger and- Ugh! Just so many things. All because you had started dating my brother. It’s just so god damn childish of me”

You look back at her and she looks more than disappointed as she tears the small dry leaf in various pieces.

“That doesn’t matter any more, Sarah” You tell her, “You’ve grown out of it, just like I did. That’s what matters”

She sighs and looks back at you.

“I don’t want you to feel like you need to forgive me” she admits, her guilt weighting her down, “What I did was fucked up to an extreme, and you had the patience to hear it all and almost never clap back. I’m just- I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever said, or ever done.”

You smile at her words.

“And yes, the water you threw at me that day kinda woke me up for this” She says and you laugh loudly with her.

After you two calmed down, your laughs fell into smiles.

“I missed you”

“I missed you too” You answer with a lower tone.

Sarah awes and throws her arms over you into an hug, squeezing you and hopefully filling you with all the love possible.

“But really,” She starts, head still leading onto yours, “How were you so patient with me?”

“Having patience is something you have to learn when both dating and being friends with Cameron’s” You tell her, making her giggle next to you.

“Excuse you?!” Someone asks from the window behind you, making Sarah scream bloody murder and you jump in her arms.

Rafe, himself, stares out from the window beside you, ready for vengeance, now that you questioned his ability to not be annoying.

- - - - - - - -

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