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inbabylontheywept · 3 months ago

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bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

#dating stories #anecdotes #long post #funny story #babylon #im really bad at dating #like i can do a lot better than this but also it just was kind of a nightmare for me #shit like this did make the whole thing easier tho #like #every date after this i could go you know ive seen how bad it can get #and i lived #didnt even get shot #writing

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roosterforme · 10 months ago

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Sneak Peek | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You spent so much time around the boys, they counted you as one of them. You were firmly stuck in the friend zone with Jake, so it was time to move on with a guy who could see past your flight suits. It's not immediately obvious to either of you that cranky Jake is actually jealous Jake.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentioned smut, 18+

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Happy birthday @beyondthesefourwalls!

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"It's my turn to buy a round," you said, standing up from the table and grabbing the empty beer bottles before turning toward Jimmy and Penny at the bar.

"Thanks, Rodeo," Jake murmured, and you turned back briefly and smiled softly at him. His gaze slid down your body the same way it would with any other woman, the only difference was that he had started to notice just how many other guys were regularly checking you out, too. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that fact.

When you squeezed yourself between two stools at the bar to order four more beers, Bradley asked, "Who are you staring at, Hangman? Rodeo?"

Mickey laughed as Jake quickly shook his head and turned his attention back to his friends. "I just wanted to make sure she can manage carrying everything."

"I'm sure she's fine," Bradley replied with a laugh of his own. "I got a little nervous for a second there."

"Why?" Jake asked, his eyes slowly drifting back to you, watching as you slipped your credit card into the back pocket of your jeans.

"Because first of all," Bradley said as he smashed open a peanut on the table, "Rodeo is practically one of the guys. And second," he added, popping the peanut into his mouth and chewing, "it would be weird if you start looking at her like you do all the other random pieces of ass you take home with you. Even though she is cute."

"She's cute, for sure," Mickey piped in. "But once you've seen a girl throw up in the parking lot after a drunken karaoke night, the appeal kind of wears off."

Jake smiled as you headed back toward the table, because the drunken karaoke night was when he got to drive you home and carry you to your bed while you repeatedly tried to tell him you could walk by yourself.

"Oh, you know who else is cute?" Bradley asked just as you set four new beers on the table. "That redhead with the huge tits at the dartboard."

"Damn," Mickey groaned, and now you were looking in that direction, too. But Jake kept his eyes on you.

"Do we have to talk about this in front of Rodeo?" he asked, sipping his fresh beer and starting to wish Bradley and Mickey would wander off. "In front of a lady?"

Bradley snorted so hard, Jake was surprised his beer didn't shoot out of his nose. "A lady?" he asked as he looked at you and cuffed you on the arm. "Nice try, Hangman, but Rodeo doesn't count."

"Well, you don't count either," you told him, and Bradley tapped the neck of his bottle to yours. "And neither do the two of you." Your gaze met Mickey's before settling on Jake. "You know I don't mind when you guys talk about girls. I get it. You're all hot."

But your knee was rubbing against Jake's thigh at the tiny table, and for a brief flash, he thought maybe he wanted to count in your mind as a guy you could be into.

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It was a strange dynamic, working with mostly a bunch of men all the time. They saw you in a flight suit once, and they never looked at you like you were a female ever again. And that was fine. It made your job easier in a lot of ways. There were fewer distractions, and you knew for a fact that they liked you for your personality. They wouldn't invite you to hang out all the time if they didn't.

But on nights like this, it did sting a little bit to watch the three of them tripping over themselves to go talk to the redhead who was clearly eating up the attention. You were essentially wearing the same outfit she was: jeans and a black shirt. And you thought you looked cute. And what exactly was wrong with your boobs? You looked down at your body and kind of shrugged. You didn't get it.

Natasha handed you a pool cue, and you sank a shot. You made up the excuse that you wanted to play so the guys wouldn't feel bad about abandoning you to go talk to girls, but Jake had been hesitant at first, so you shoved him along. That was a mistake, because you were reminded of how solid and muscular he was under his soft shirt.

The first few times you glanced his way, he was already looking back at you. If he were any other guy, you would have just asked him out by now, but you were so firmly in the friend zone with all of them that it was embarrassing. The rejection would be laughable.

So you put your head down and focused on the game and the chit chat around you. But after a while you got curious, and when you looked up again, Bradley and Mickey were walking back toward the table where your empty beer bottle sat. Jake had won. The redhead was running her fingernails through his hair. It was all over for the night.

You weren't jealous. You weren't. You just didn't understand why it couldn't be you. As you sank the eight ball, you said, "I'm beat. I'm going to head home."

"Me too. Want a lift?" Mickey asked, and you nodded, not sparing a single glance back at Jake.

Maybe you were the problem. Maybe you weren't sexy. You spent most of Sunday scrutinizing yourself in your bedroom mirror and going through all of your clothing. There really wasn't much of it since your closet was lined with uniforms and flight suits. And when you looked in the mirror, it wasn't like you could even tell what the problem was. You were just you, but it was starting to feel like you'd been playing around in this male-dominated world for so long, you were just blending in there.

"Fuck it," you muttered reaching for your phone. There was a text from Bradley detailing the pricing for tickets to a Padres game, which you desperately wanted to go to. It sounded fun. Then you realized the beer drinking and peanut eating would simply be moved to a different venue in which the guys would be looking at all the other women around you. Suddenly it didn't sound so fun.

There were also a handful of texts from Jake. He must have kicked his guest out early if he was asking how you were doing this morning. You sent back a short message before finding the app on your screen that had been dormant since you got stationed in San Diego last summer. Tinder. It was right there.

Nervously, you entered your login information, terrified that you'd just end up with a bunch of guys you saw on base as your best options. They would undoubtedly take one look at you and have the same reaction your male friends did. But you spent the rest of the day thinking about it. You looked, but you didn't sample. You found some guys who were surprisingly not in the Navy, but you didn't swipe. And maybe part of the reason you didn't was because Jake kept texting you all day long.

Monday was your tipping point. You were all ready to fly in your boots and flight suit when you ended up surrounded by the guys in the hangar. "We getting Padres tickets, Rodeo?" Bradley asked. "Day drinking at Petco Park?"

You nodded at him. "Sounds fun."

Then Mickey cut in as Jake walked over. "Hey, Hangman. How was our little redheaded friend?" he asked with a smirk, but Jake's expression stayed the same as his eyes met yours.

"Wouldn't know."

"Oof," Bradley said with a goading laugh. "What, you kicked her out without even talking to her afterwards?"

You swallowed and looked down at your boots as you thought about the guys on the dating app. Maybe a little change of scenery wouldn't hurt anything after all.

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"Can you just knock it the fuck off?" Jake snapped. "I didn't even spend the night with her." He watched you put your helmet on as you walked toward your jet. "And I don't like talking about this shit around Rodeo anymore."

"Alright," Bradley replied with a tiny smirk. "No need to get mad about it."

When Jake took to the air, you were all business, as usual. You and he flew well together, like you always did. But back on the ground at lunchtime, you barely spared a glance in his direction in the cafeteria. Instead, you were completely absorbed in something on your phone as you picked at your food.

"What's wrong?" he eventually asked, and you looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there.

"Nothing," you murmured, taking a drink before returning your attention to your phone. "Just working on something."

"On what?" he asked, voice almost as snippy as it had been earlier. He found he didn't like it when your attention wasn't focused on him, which was absolutely infuriating, because it's not like the two of you were anything.

"My Tinder profile," you replied smoothly as you licked your lips, and Jake thought he must have misheard. Since when were you looking for a guy?

"Tinder?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I'm just trying to sort out which photo to use, because I like this one where I'm in my flight suit, but guys don't really tend to go for that sort of thing."

You turned your phone to show him, and Jake swallowed hard. It was a photo he had taken a few months ago. He remembered that day. Your sunglasses were hooked on the top of your suit, and your helmet was tucked under your arm, and your smile was infectious.

"I like that one," he told you softly.

But you just rolled your eyes and groaned. "But you don't count, now do you?"

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Why are you on Tinder anyway?"

Now you laughed as you set your phone down. "Why do you think?"

He didn't want to think about it, even though he knew why. You were looking to hookup with someone. Or maybe it was even worse. Maybe you were looking for an actual boyfriend. Someone to spend all your time with. You'd be at the Hard Deck after work less frequently. You'd be going to the Padres game with some faceless idiot, and he'd be the one carrying you home after you overdid it at karaoke night. Worse yet, you could have your pick of any guy on that app who caught your eye, but Jake knew for a fact none of them were good enough for you.

"Rodeo," he grunted, unsure how to voice his concerns. You just tapped your screen a few times and then smiled at him as his heart clenched a little bit.

"I went with the photo from Reuben's wedding instead."

Jake ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't even have to ask. He also knew that photo well too. His voice was soft as he said, "Blue dress. Holding a martini. Hand on your hip." He didn't like the idea of a bunch of guys he didn't even know looking at you wearing something so pretty.

"That's the one! And now my bio is live on the app," you said as you tapped your screen one last time. "Wish me luck."

You stood with your tray and Jake told himself he would do no such thing.

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"That photo must have done the trick," you mumbled the following day in the rec room on base as Natasha helped you sort through your matches.

"I'm sure it did," she replied in awe. "You look hot in it."

You wanted to believe her, but it didn't even matter right now, because the two of you were staring at a photo of a hot guy who had sent you a message. You gasped. "Is this for real?"

"Looks like it," she replied. "If you don't fuck him, I will. Happily."

"What are the two of you over here whispering about?" You looked up into Jake's smiling eyes and gave him a grin of your own.

"Rodeo is getting all the Tinder hotties," Natasha replied, and suddenly Jake's smile vanished. "Let me know if he sends you a dick pic."

"He better fucking not!" Jake growled as he tried to reach for your phone. "Show me what this asshole looks like so I know who to pound to dust if he sends you one." You rolled your eyes and held up your phone so he could see. "His name is Tony? And he's a dentist?"

"What's wrong with that?" you asked quickly.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "If you have to ask, then you don't want to know."

You scoffed and opened your messages. "You're being dramatic. And I don't get on you about who you decide to hook up with."

"So you're just trying to hook up with this asshole?" he asked, his lips curling in disgust.

Honestly, you weren't really sure. But he sounded nice in the messages he sent. "Would it really be so bad if I was?"

Jake scrutinized your face like he was in pain, and you had the craziest thought flash through your mind that perhaps he was jealous. But then the pinched lines on his forehead vanished, and his voice was completely calm as he said, "You do what you want, Rodeo. But don't come crying to me about it later."

"Fine," you told him as he walked away. And that's what spurred you to reply to Tony's message with a more flirtatious one of your own. You were allowed to hook up with him. You were allowed to go out on a date. Maybe you'd even eventually request a dick pic. Jake wasn't in charge of your Tinder profile or dating agenda.

A few short exchanges back and forth was all it took, and suddenly you had plans for Saturday night that didn't involve hanging with the guys at the Hard Deck for once. Tony was going to take you out to dinner, and you were already excited.

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"Where the hell is Rodeo?" Bradley asked as he returned to the table with three bottles of beer instead of four. "She's usually here by seven."

Jake rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "She's not coming. She's on a date with some smug looking asshole named Tony."

"Good for her," Mickey piped up, earning a glare from Jake. "I hope she gets laid. You wanna grab Javy and play pool?"

With a groan, Jake dragged himself out of his seat and forced his body through the motions. He hit the cue ball with perfect precision, but meanwhile, all he could think about was some other guy's hands all over your body while he shoved his tongue down your throat. "Fuck," he growled, trying to fight the urge to text you. If you wanted him, you knew how to reach him.

Between shots, he glanced around the bar at all the other women, but he couldn't find a single one as pretty as you. He spent the rest of his night barely conversing with his friends while he hoped that your date was a complete flop. And when he left to head home alone, he caved and texted you to make sure you got back to your place safely.

That was over twelve hours ago. Jake still hadn't heard back from you. It was damn near noon on Sunday, and he was left assuming that you spent the night with Tinder Tony. When you finally texted him back, the response made him toss his phone aside.

Sorry, just seeing this now. Yes, I made it home safely. See you tomorrow.

Monday was worse. You were glued to your phone at every opportunity you got, and Jake could tell by the little smile on your face that you must be talking to that asshole.

"Rodeo, how was your hot date?" Bradley asked, bumping your helmet with his while he winked at Jake.

"Pretty good," you replied with a little laugh.

"You get laid?" Mickey asked obnoxiously, and you rolled your eyes before glancing at Jake. He was dying to know the answer to the question, but also terrified to hear it.

"Wouldn't you like to know," you replied, returning your attention to your phone. "Put it this way... I'm going out with him again for dinner on Wednesday."

"Who goes to dinner on a Wednesday?" Jake scoffed. "That's when we usually go to the bar! And what did you and Tinder Tommy even talk about the whole time? Dentures? Teeth?"

"No," you snapped at him. "He told me how pretty he thinks I am, and that he was nervous to meet me in person. And his name is Tony, not Tommy. So don't be rude when we stop by the bar after dinner on Wednesday."

"Can't wait to meet him," Jake grumbled, highly disappointed that your date had been even somewhat successful. And he still wasn't sure if you'd gone home with Tony. Or worse... if he'd gone home with you.

Jake had crashed in your bed with you once a few months ago when you hosted game night. Mickey, Nat and Bradley all passed out in your living room, so you'd taken him by the hand to your bed. Every time he thought about it, he could practically feel the warmth of your body next to his and your foot hooked over his ankle. The idea of someone else there engaging in pillowtalk or fucking you just right was way too much for him to handle, because he was starting to feel like he wanted to be that person.

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Okay, so Tony was a little boring. A lot boring, actually. And on Wednesday night at dinner, he actually did mention dentures, and you could practically hear Jake scoffing from the Hard Deck. But Tony was hot and nice and he paid for dinner. Could you really hope for more than that?

"So, you mentioned stopping at a Navy bar?" he asked as you walked back to his car. "I keep forgetting you're even in the Navy. It just doesn't seem like you."

Maybe you should have used the other photo for your dating profile since you'd had to remind him twice already that there were a lot of women in the military now. "Yeah. It's called the Hard Deck. I usually hang out there on Wednesdays, and I thought maybe my friends could meet you?"

"Sure," he replied, and he even played boring music on the way there. But when he walked you inside, he kissed your cheek, and that felt kind of nice until Jake was looking. You felt embarrassed and a little guilty when he scowled at you from the pool table, so you eased yourself away from Tony and took him by the hand instead.

"Hey, guys," you said cautiously as you approached the pool table. "This is Tony."

Jake's jaw was clenched tight as he reached out to shake hands with your date in a death grip, and you cringed as he said, "Nice to meet you, Tommy."

And it all went downhill from there. You had to correct him three times, even though you were sure he knew Tony's name. And even the other guys didn't really seem to mesh well with Tony. Bradley looked scandalized when he told them he didn't like beer or playing pool, and Mickey tried to make a dentist joke that just didn't land.

You wanted to crawl into your bed and not come back out for a week. You also kind of wanted to ask Jake what his problem was. Tony was a nice guy. His hand on your back felt nice, and his goodnight kiss at your front door was nice. There was even some tongue, and you didn't stop his roaming fingers. Maybe another date or two and you'd ask him to come in.

"Would you like to get dinner on Saturday night?" he asked as his lips grazed your neck. "At the Boathouse?"

You closed your eyes and leaned back, and the image of Jake took over. His lips were on your earlobe, and he was whispering your name as you led him to your room. His hands were settling on your hips and squeezing gently as you melted into his touch.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, and you were jarred back to reality by his voice.

You swallowed hard and nodded as you opened your door. "Saturday night sounds good," you said as you ducked inside. "See you then."

You couldn't have Jake. You just needed to get it through your head that he didn't want you like that.

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Jake knew he was behaving poorly even as he was doing it. Tony looked annoyed by him, and you looked embarrassed, but he just kept calling him the wrong name and standing off to the side like a dick. He was actually the asshole. Not Tony. And he needed to apologize to you at work the next day.

He found you in the hangar, pacing back and forth as you played with the strap on your helmet. When you turned, he started to say, "Hey, Rodeo, I'm really-"

"I need your help," you blurted out when you saw him heading your way. "I need you to come shopping with me tomorrow after work, because I wore my only two dresses already, and everything else in my closet is ridiculous. And Tony is taking me to the Boathouse on Saturday, so I can't just throw something together and call it a day."

Jake ground his back teeth together. The Boathouse was nice. As in, he could think of at least three people he knew who got engaged there. How much money did dentists make anyway? He was full blown jealous now. He knew that. But you'd asked him for help, so of course he was going to do whatever you wanted. Your eager eyes were enough to make him agree on the spot.

"Where are we going shopping?" he asked softly.

You looked so relieved as you said, "The mall. I don't think it will take too long, and I can treat you to dinner as a thank you."

"No," he replied. "You don't owe me anything, Rodeo."

"Thanks, Jake," you whispered as you threw one arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "I know I can trust you to tell me what looks good. Because you're a guy, and you know what guys like. I've been in such a rut, and I don't even know what looks nice on me anymore. But I trust your opinion."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and held you a little closer. If you trusted him, he wouldn't let you down. He never wanted to let you down. He would take you to the mall and tell you which outfits looked nice on you, even though he knew it would be all of them, and he would be cool about you dating Tony. "Sure, Rodeo. Anything you want."

When the time came, he was miserable. You seemed excited, bouncing on your feet in your jeans and sneakers as you collected dresses and cute little outfits to try on, but he knew none of this was really for him. You'd just be giving him a little sneak peak of what Tony would have his hands all over.

"How about this one?" you asked, holding up a red mini dress that made Jake's mouth dry up. Then you moved it in front of your body and looked down. "It's probably too much for me."

He wanted to tell you that you couldn't pull it off, but he knew the fucking thing was made for you. "Try it on and see," he said softly, so you added it to your pile. Then he followed you like a puppy dog to the fitting room, holding half of the dresses for you to try on. When you passed the lingerie section, Jake had to watch you grab a few lacy items. "Have you slept with Tinder Tommy yet?" he snapped when you picked up a black bra and added it to your arms.

You looked up at him with a soft pout. "Well, no. That's why I'm trying to buy some sexy stuff, you know? Just in case I want to take it there."

Jake had seen you in your bathing suit many, many times. You didn't need to be wearing anything made out of lace and silk to look sexy, but the sight of you in half of this shit would probably give Tony a damn heart attack. Then he realized as you led him along that he himself might not make it out of the fitting room alive.

"Just stand out here, okay?" you said softly, guiding him against the wall. He grunted in response and watched you line up everything you wanted to try on inside the fitting room before closing yourself inside. You kicked your shoes off, and then he watched you push your jeans down to your feet through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. You stepped out of them, and his imagination started to supply the rest.

You were completely naked now, he was sure of that fact, and you were only a few feet away from him, separated by a flimsy door. His head tipped back against the wall as his breathing grew a little deeper. Your toenails were painted bright green, and you were talking quietly to yourself as you stepped into a black dress and started to guide it up your legs.

"This isn't too bad," you muttered, and a few seconds later you were unlatching the door and pulling it open with an apprehensive look on your face. Jake's jaw dropped open as you stepped right up to him and asked, "What do you think?"

"Rodeo," he grunted, fisting his hands at his sides to keep them from touching you as you spun slowly in front of him. "Looks good."

You frowned a little more. "I was hoping for better than good," you replied, twirling away from him and back into the fitting room.

Jake's body was thrumming with desire as he watched that black fabric pool at your feet under the door. "It was better than good, Rodeo," he said, nearly choking on the words as you stepped to the side and bent to pick it up.

"I'll try the red one," you informed him, and he had to press his lips together, knowing what was coming next. This time it took you a little longer, and he watched your feet under the door as you turned in front of the mirror. "It's really short," you finally said as you opened the door again.

"Jesus Christ," Jake moaned softly. The thing fit you like a damn glove. Every curve and soft dip of your body was right there, begging to be touched. His palms were sweaty as he wiped them on his jeans, and then you spun, ending up just inches away from him again.

He couldn't speak, and maybe you took that as a bad sign. "It's too much," you said with a little laugh. "I know it's too much, but it was fun to try it on anyway. It made me feel sexy," you said with a little shrug, barely able to meet his eyes. "I think the black one might be better for dinner at the Boathouse? Or do you think this one?"

Jake snapped out of his daze and remembered why he was here, suddenly pissed that this little fashion show wasn't just for his own benefit. "Come on, Rodeo. Tinder Tommy? Really? You think he deserves this?" When you just kind of shrugged at him, he said, "Get the red one if you're just looking to get laid."

"Okay," you replied, your little pout back on your pretty lips.

He pushed away from the wall until he was nearly touching you. Practically snarling, he said, "Are you just looking to get laid?"

"Maybe," you said softly, looking at his neck. "He's actually into me, so maybe. I don't know, Jake. It's been a long time since a guy chose me, you know?" He opened his mouth to tell you that any guy in the world would choose you when you said, "I have one more dress."

Then he had to stand there and watch the red fabric hit your feet before you guided the tiniest little green dress up your calves. He was jealous. He was so jealous. And the fact that he'd had a whole fucking year to ask you out instead of fucking wasting his time was crashing down on him right now. You were going to wear one of these dresses to the Boathouse tomorrow, and Tony was going to take it off you. He was going to fuck you, and then someday you'd probably get married. Jake would be at your wedding sitting between Mickey and Bradley and making himself sick over this whole thing.

The door opened. You were stunning. You didn't even leave the fitting room doorway this time in that green dress that was hugging your tits and your waist and showing off so much leg that Jake thought he was going to black out. "I can tell by your face that it's not good," you said with a wince. "It's a little too low cut, so I couldn't imagine wearing it in front of Tony."

His voice came out low and rough as he said, "You're wearing it in front of me just fine."

"But I don't count, remember?" You closed and locked the door, and Jake was immediately leaning against it. Literally each dress was hotter than the one before it, and Jake didn't know how to articulate what he was feeling right now. How on earth did he end up so far in the friend zone that he couldn't claw his way out if he tried? What the fuck made Tinder Tony so special? Why were you looking around on the app anyway? He couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you were never going to take him seriously, even if he knew he could be what you wanted.

The rustling of fabric and the sound of the zipper had him resting his forehead on the door. "Rodeo, Baby, you can't...buy one of these dresses. Not for Tony. Okay? Come on. He's not good enough for you."

"Oh." That was all you said. You just replied with one word, and Jake's blood was boiling. He wanted to dismantle the entire fitting room and take you back home and tell you that you could do a hell of a lot better than some lame ass dentist who didn't like beer or playing pool. But you'd just muttered one word, and he was dying to know if he could ever stand a chance at making you happy.

"Rodeo?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You unlocked the door and he stepped back a few inches so you could open it, expecting to see you in your jeans once again with the dress of your choosing in your hands. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his heart hammering in his chest. "Absolutely not!"

Jake pushed you back further into the fitting room and managed to wrench his broad shoulders through the doorway before kicking the door closed. You were biting your lip, your eyes wide as his hands came to rest on your lace covered hips.

"Jake," you whispered as he shook his head at the sight of you in a lacy black bra and tiny underwear.

"What the hell are you thinking?" he groaned, fingers digging gently into your warm body as he listened to the little sound you made. "You're killing me here." Your hands came up to his wrists before you slid them up along his arms, and Jake took a step closer until his jeans were brushing against your bare belly. He would need to be removed from the mall in a body bag at this rate.

Then you whispered, "I like you. And maybe there's a chance that you like me, too? And maybe that's part of the reason I asked you to come here with me."

Jake swallowed hard as he leaned in, dizzy from the way you smelled so sweet and felt so perfect in his hands. "Dump him. Dump Tony." You whimpered at his words as he slid one hand down further, teasing the lace covering your ass at the same time his other hand went up to tug at the side of the bra. "Because this? This should be for me."

"Jake." Your voice was a needy whine as you scraped your fingernails along his shoulders and chest, trying to pull him closer. But he shook his head as he pushed you back harder against the wall, lips hovering over yours as you whispered his name.

He knew what he wanted. He'd known for a while, really, but now he was ready to take it. "I want to kiss you. But if I do, I'm not going to be able to go back, okay?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I won't go back to being Rodeo and Hangman, just friends. I will not do that. Not with you. Not when you count more than anyone else."

Your lips crashed against his, and Jake sighed in relief as he held you in his arms the way he'd been dying to for so long. The lingerie and all the little dresses were only for him. Your kisses and your smile and your fingers in his hair were for him, not Tony. He ran his hands down to your ass as you giggled and nipped at his lips.

"Pick a dress, Baby," he muttered between kisses. "And we'll get the lingerie, too."

"Okay," you replied with a smile before you took his bottom lip between yours, making him moan.

"Tomorrow night, I will take you out, and you can show me this little getup again if you want to."

You looked up at him with the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. "I want to."

---------------------------

You nudged Bradley with your elbow. "Hey, she's cute," you said, nodding toward the brunette across the aisle. "You guys should go talk to her." He and Mickey both leaned forward to look without any subtlety whatsoever, and you laughed.

"Maybe at the end of the inning," Bradley replied, manspreading so much in his seat at the Padres game that he kept bumping your leg and nudging your shoulder. But he was grinning, and you could already tell that he and Mickey were about to turn it into a competition to see who could get her phone number first.

But there was one key player missing from their game now, and you smiled as you saw Jake apologetically climbing over everyone else in your row before plopping down into the seat next to you and kissing your cheek with a smile. "The line was long as hell for your favorite beer," he said as he handed it to you. "Did I miss anything?"

You shook your head as Bradley said, "You're just in time to watch the real show, Hangman. Rodeo, I want you to time how long it takes before I get her number."

But you weren't really listening as Bradley and Mickey started to argue, and neither was Jake as he kissed your cheek again. You didn't feel like you were simply blending in, and you didn't feel like you were just one of the guys anymore. You were grinning and sipping your beer as Jake's lips met your ear and he asked, "Are you wearing that black set right now?"

"I'll let you find out later.

---------------------------

@blahehblah

Happy birthday, Alli! I hope you enjoyed the blonde one! Big thanks to @mak-32 @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for all your help!

Read Bradley's version in Whole Lotta Love

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empire-of-the-words · 3 months ago

Text

AU where Bruce and Talia get married and Ra'd just... hangs around

He finds Wayne Manor’s version of the mother-in-law suite and refuses to leave

He had LoA meetings there for a while, but Bruce kept spying on them ("It’s my house!") so confidential information isn't discussed there, but everything else is fair game

Alfred's cookies means the League book club is suddenly very popular

None of the kids can bring friends home without having to explain "Yeah that's my (step)grandpa wearing the dramatic robes cursing my dad for stopping him from killing the mayor. Yeah the ninjas are his too. Same with the endangered animals wandering around the house. No it's actually pretty calm today"

Alfred starts cooking larger amounts of food because there’s always a ninja or two (or ten) hanging around, and he’s determined to be a good host ("Why is there a cake tonight?" "It’s Bob's birthday, Master Bruce " "Ninja Bob? Damn I forgot to get him a gift.")

Ra's always spoils his grandkids rotten, of course, but in the weirdest ways possible. Mainly pets. Bruce does not appreciate this.

When Cass shows up, she and Ra's have a staring contest for an hour straight. No one's quite sure what happened, and no one really wants to know

And his shenanigans aren't confined to private either! If there's a gala, he's there, and he does not care about social etiquette. That man makes headlines way more often than not ("'Wayne FIL Has Bodyguards Attack Socialite For Wearing Fur'." "That fur comes from an endangered fox; how else was I supposed to react?")

Ra's likes to match gala outfits with Talia, Talia likes to match with Bruce and Damian (and whatever kids consider her their mom), and the other kids like to join in on the joke, meaning the entire family is matching except for Dick, who refuses out of spite (a picture of them all together quickly becomes a meme format)

The Halloween gala is filled with people in ninja "costumes"

The Court of Owls tries to assassinate Ra's once, not because of the League of Assassins thing, just because he got on the nerves of one too many members. Taking them down is one of the few times Ra's and Dick get along, and it freaks everyone out so much they're determined to never let it happen again

The family is divided on whether they find him and his shenanigans amusing or not. Talia, Jason and Duke do. Bruce and Dick don't. No one's quite sure about Cass, and Damian won't say either way. Tim starts a mini war with Ra's, with the casualties ending up as 2 chandeliers, 5 computers, 4 antique vases, at least 7 League plots, the microwave and Tim’s spleen

He does manage to find the Lazarus Pit infecting Gotham’s water supply and isolate it. So. That's nice.

#ra's al ghul #batman #batfam #al ghul family #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #talia al ghul #cassandra cain #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #duke thomas #tim drake #as in every au tim finds a way to lose his spleen #league of assassins #brutalia #(minor)#ras al ghul

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gyuswhore · 4 months ago

Text

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

[You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here.

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents.

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7 [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations.

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway.

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too.

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table.

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway.

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order.

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink.

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved.

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time.

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence.

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either.

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence.

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave.

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.”

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion.

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least.

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him.

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing.

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving.

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him.

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself.

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever.

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth.

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too.

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco.

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.”

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances.

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after.

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!”

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck.

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks.

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault.

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside.

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire.

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting.

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?”

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again.

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact.

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little.

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop.

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway.

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators.

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of.

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag.

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask.

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?”

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside.

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things.

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.

“Am I late for something again?”

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all.

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage.

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you.

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.”

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard.

“So you can fix it?”

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.”

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine.

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you.

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work.

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him.

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular.

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close.

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly.

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row.

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.”

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.”

You questioned if this was a mistake.

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course.

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again.

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke.

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t.

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos.

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often.

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving.

“Shall we go to the office then?”

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra.

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed.

Cute.

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet.

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup.

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side.

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins.

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space.

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?”

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?”

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying.

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues.

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–”

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.”

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease.

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name.

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea.

“Are you doing anything else today?”

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly.

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside.

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt.

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay.

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly.

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination.

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars.

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer.

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway.

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched.

“Fuck, yes you can.”

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top.

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers.

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs.

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster.

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace.

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth.

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees.

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy.

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly.

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs.

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support.

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him.

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you.

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash.

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teamred · 3 months ago

Text

gtfih (get the fuck in here)

✩‌ wade wilson/deadpool x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | every morning, you see a man and his dog walk past your bakery and all he does is stick his head through the door, inhales deeply, make a comment, then walks out. what gives?

WARNINGS | flirty banter with sexual jokes, none really!

RATING | teen+

“Oh, that smells like unicorn farts wrapped in rainbows!”

At the bakery's front counter, you glance up at the chiming bell above the door. Your first customer of the day... with a really strange comment.

A tall, mottled man stands before you in a grey hoodie holding an equally odd looking dog with a lolling tongue. Definitely not a sight you see every day.

He takes a deep, exaggerated sniff of the air.

“Morning!” you greet with a smile. “Come on in and—”

And just like that, he bolts out the door and back onto the street. His dog licks his face—actually, his open mouth—as they disappear from view.

What the fuck?

The next morning, it happens again.

“Mother of holy Mary and Marvel Jesus, that smells like a threesome between me, a donut, and fuck-me chocolate syrup!”

The man, again in the same coloured hoodie, pauses dramatically, closing his eyes and taking another long whiff as he half-leans into the bakery.

“Would you like to try—?”

But before you can finish, he’s gone again, leaving you standing there in disbelief.

The third morning is not much different.

Same man, same dog, same routine. However, this time, he doesn’t even say a word—just inhales, sighs in contentment, then spins around and exits as quickly as he entered.

It keeps on happening until the end of the week. By then, you've had enough.

Leaning on the counter, arms crossed, you watch from the counter as he comes into view by your window.

His dark maroon hoodie is drawn tight, and in tow as usual is his dog drooling slightly against his shoulder. You brace yourself, eyes narrowing.

The door swings open.

“Wow—”

“You, Mr. Dog Man!” You cut him off and point at him sternly.

He raises an eyebrow, pointing a finger to himself as if saying, “Me?”

“Yes, you,” you confirm, then you jab your finger towards your glass counter. “Kindly get the fuck in here.”

He chuckles, amused. “Did you just tell me to ‘get the fuck in here’?”

“Kindly,” you say, tilting your head with exaggerated politeness, “but yes.”

The man shrugs, complying with a casual stroll to the counter.

“Alright, I'm in. What’s the dealio?” he asks, leaning on the counter with a smile.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“It’s Wade,” the stranger supplies, his smile widening. “Wade Wilson. Is yours ‘The Bitchy Baker Who Didn’t Have a Good Dicking This Morning’?” His words drip with sarcasm, but there’s a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“Ha-ha. So funny,” you reply dryly. “You know, you can't just keep sticking your head in my bakery, make a comment, and then leave.”

“Why not? It's a free country,” he says, feigning innocence.

You roll your eyes. “If you like the smell of my baked goods that much, why don’t you actually buy one? I can assure you that they taste better than they smell.”

Wade smirks. “That’s what many of my ex-girlfriends said, but I could never trust them.”

You ruffle your eyebrows at his offhand comment, but he moves on quickly. “Look, I never carry my wallet on my morning walks. Mary Puppins here would guilt-trip me into buying way more stuff than I need.”

Your gaze drops to his dog, who’s happily panting in his arms and looking up with big eyes. “Her name is Mary Puppins?”

“Yup. Her previous owner—may he rest his soul—named her. Her new baby daddy—that’s me—just kept the tradition going.”

“And she guilt-trips you into buying stuff?” you ask slowly in equal parts disbelief and intrigue.

“Look at this face!” Wade exclaims, holding his dog out closer to you. “Wouldn't you buy her anything she wanted?”

For a few beats, you inspect the dog and its outfit. A little red and black costume that looks awfully similar to something you’ve seen before, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. But yes, her owner was right; she did have something oddly endearing about her.

“Is it okay if I pet her?”

“Oh yeah,” Wade nods enthusiastically, “go right ahead.”

Based on her lack of facial expressions, Mary Puppins seems indifferent to your pats and scritches, but her tail is wagging, so she must be enjoying it slightly. Wade watches you in approval.

You retract your hands, wash them quickly, then grab a tray of goods out from one of the shelves in the counter.

“Well, since you don't have your wallet, have one of these on the house,” you say, placing the tray in front of him.

Wade gasps theatrically, eyes twinkling in delight at all the choices he can possibly have. He takes his time, hovering his free hand over the array of pastries, until he finally decides on a chocolate croissant.

One bite, and his reaction is nothing short of dramatic, but that seems to be this guy’s style.

His eyes flutter to a close, and he lets out a moan that echoes in the quiet bakery. You smile proudly and mentally pat yourself on the back.

“Oh my God, they always talk about having a foodgasm, but my mouth is literally coming with each bite. Oh my fucking God!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay, bring your wallet tomorrow and you can have plenty more foodgasms.”

“What—my handsome features don't get me free baked goods?” Wade leans the rest of his croissant towards Mary Puppins, who’s trying her best to nibble at it, but is mostly just licking it.

“You're cute, but you’re not that cute," you tease. Looking beyond his skin condition, he was a teensy bit handsome, you had to admit.

“I used to wear a wig. I’ll put it on again if it means I get free shit. Would that help?”

It’s hard not to smile in front of him. “No, I don't think so.”

“People say I look like Ryan Reynold’s hotter cousin when I’ve got a full load of hair on me.”

You huff and shake your head in disagreement.

“How about a date?” Wade asks with a wink. “There’s financial compensation in that—that’s gotta count for something.”

A date would count for something, but you didn't want him to be out of the waters yet.

“Come back tomorrow with your wallet and a date could maybe be in your future,” you reply flirtatiously.

Wade nods with a grin and begins to walk backwards towards the door.

“If I’m late though, it’s ‘cause I’m too busy jerking it while fantasizing about having those beauties in my mouth again.”

You sputter a laugh. Feeling brave, you decide to channel his humor and reflect it back at him. “Wow, maybe you’ll be only one minute late, if you can even last that long.”

He gasps in mock horror and jogs back to the counter again to take another baked good.

“This is compensation for that comment…” he says with squinted eyes, stuffing the pastry into his mouth.

“Don’t come too hard tonight, handsome,” you say with a wink.

“I’m legitimately so hard right now,” he says with a full mouth, pointing the half pastry braid towards his crotch. “As the kids say these days, you match my freak, lady. Say bye-bye, Mary Puppins!”

Wade awkwardly adjusts himself to make his dog give a little paw wave, while she simply wags her tail. You laugh and shake your head, amused by his antics.

As he finally exits, you hear him call out, “And if anyone asks, I’m just here for the sweet, sweet baked goods. Totally not because of the hot baker!”

You bite your lip, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, as you watch him and his dog disappear down the street. As you return to work, you replay your interactions with Wade over and over, and realize he’s just as endearing as his quirky dog.

You’re buzzing in anticipation to see Wade and Mary Puppins again tomorrow morning.

#wade wilson x reader #wade wilson x you #deadpool x reader #deadpool x you #deadpool fluff #wade wilson fluff

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ghast1yghosts · 20 days ago

Text

race car driver steve and pit crew eddie

flirting during pit stops. always seems like it’s going to lead somewhere but never does. eventually, as he’s heading to the track, steve tells eddie he’ll take him out *when* he wins. not if.

—

“she handles fine”

“can’t say the same thing about me”

“yeah?”

“hm”

“i think i could handle you”

“you say that to all the crew?”

“just the pretty ones”

—

“all oiled up and ready to go?”

“always for you harrington.

.. oh you mean the car”

“yeah, munson—the car. i already make enough pit stops as is.”

—

“we have a problem.”

“what? why what’s wrong??”

“you didn’t say anything about my outfit”

“…

turn around for me.

it makes your rear view look, *fantastic*”

“call my ass ‘my rear view’ again-“

“HEY! you ASKED THIS TIME”

“YEAH. *THIS TIME*”

—

“that engine isn’t the only thing i’m good at revving up.”

“…is that- are you-“

*shrug*

“UGH. i hate that that worked. that was TERRIBLE.”

“:)”

see, when steve finally gets the guts to actually commit to being serious, to genuinely asking eddie out afterwards, win or not, it goes a little something like this…

“Racers, please make your way to the start line.”

“Eddie?” He walks over as Steve pushes his helmet over his head, flattening his coiffed hair.

“Yeah?”

“After this race, when I win,” Oh, oh, is this going where he thinks it’s going? Is this Steve finally taking a chance on this grease rat? Surely n- “Would you let me take you out for dinner…?”

Eddie blinks at him, staring at his honey-brown eyes boring into him, from the tiny opening in his helmet.

“Yes,” his brain seems to reboot and gather enough coherence to spit out an answer, “Yeah, yes, please.” He can tell Steve smiles at him from the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Steve snaps his chin strap and tightens it. As he goes to slip on his gloves, Eddie walks up to him. He grabs onto the strap and tightens it himself just to make sure.

“Good luck,” he says, gripping Steve’s shoulder for a moment.

“Don’t need it, but thanks,” playfully snarky, he bends and gets into the car. Eddie laughs at the antics and backs up further into the pit, matching Steve’s cute little wave before he drives away.

For the first time in a long time, Eddie couldn’t care less about winning. He can’t wait for this to be over; the real prize is a long-awaited date.

But, until then, it’s game time.

—

Watching the screen in the pit till the racers turn the corner and come into view. Eddie keeps a close eye on his car—Steve’s kept good pacing most of the leg, leading a few laps, too. He’s due back for a stop soon, but until he can get out of the way of the other racers, they’re too packed for him to make any sort of maneuver. When those cars get like that, Eddie feels like he’s on the edge of a freefall. Not actually, because nothing ever happens, but it feels like something will. Every time.

Besides the scars and a dusty jumpsuit somewhere, that’s the only thing that sticks around from Eddie’s crash. Because that’s what it was, a crash. And a bad one. A side hit that jerked him into another, airborne before rolling, and rolling, and rolling. Getting pulled out, dazed and bleeding, while flames and sirens roared in his ears.

And although there’s more protection and safety precautions now, it still doesn’t make that night any better.

Steve makes another lap. He’s still boxed in close—extremely close. It’s a recipe for disaster, and they all know it.

Eddie’s eyes dart to the pack of cars crossing into his field of vision, and he sees it, someone side hits someone. Someone jerks–and clips 86.

It happens in slow motion. Like becoming untethered—realizing, yeah, you’re in freefall. The world feels like it’s moving at 1/8th the pace. Steve flies over the other drivers and into the catch fences.

Eddie barely registers he’s already moving into the pit track.

86 spins out, absolutely streded to the barebones. Slowing only to get hit again and into the run-off.

“STEVE!” Eddie’s out, running full speed to the remaining inners of the car. Static and ringing fills his ears. He can feel the way his heart is threating to fucking beat out of his goddamn chest. A mantra of “nononononono. not again. not to him,” screaming in his head.

For a speedway packed with people and maxed out speakers, it’s eerily quiet to him. Everything falling away, feeling sureal, like this is some fucked up nightmare—till he gets his hand on the smoking car. Noise comes rushing back all at once, too loud.

“STEVE!” voice gone hoarse, he yells out into the metal. He can see his vision blurring with tears, fear creeping onto him a tenfold. Eddie ducks down and looks into the smashed up window.

“I’m here!” It’s muffled, but at least he can see the dark tracksuit as the source. Eddie frantically reaches for Steve’s hand, and when he gets it clasped in his own, he tugs.

“I’m okay.” A feeble attempt to reassure him, he’ll believe those words from Steve Harrington when he sees it for himself.

Steve coughs as he puts his other hand on the edge of the door and tries to reef himself out. And Eddie tries to help out the best he can. About halfway out, Steve shifts and lets go.

Logically—well, not logically actually, Eddie’s acting on pure adrenaline at this point, all logic out the window—Steve’s just getting his hands under him rather than over, more leverage that way. But Eddie needs. to. get. him. out. of the car that’s currently on fucking fire.

As soon as Steve starts moving again, Eddie’s already wrapped his arms around his chest and is pulling him the rest of the way out. He kneels in front of him and tries to unclasp the strap. Hands so shaky, he can barely get his fingers to push down before gloved hands push them away. While he attempts to help Steve yank his helmet off, it’s feeble. That golden hair flops out, and the helmet gets tossed to the side; Eddie roams his hands over Steve’s face, looking for any visible damage.

Suddenly, warm hands circle his wrists, and Steve makes him meet his eyes.

The world comes bursting back in.

“-ddie? Hey? I’m okay. I’m okay. I promise, I’m okay-“

His face is wet. He’s practically in Steve’s lap, too. One of those hands drop his wrist and cup the back of head.

“Eddie. I’m okay,” Steve says. God, the sound that punches it’s way out of his chest sounds inhuman even in his ears.

There, a few feet away from the pile of rubble, Eddie engulfs Steve in his arms, tucking his face into the neck of old leather. He can feel Steve finally let go of him to give the cameras and the crew that surrounds them, a one handed thumbs up.

Eddie can’t help let out a soft laugh with Steve at the collective sigh of relief. He gets that arm wrapped back around him, giving him a tight squeeze. Steve ducks his face over to talk into his ear, “I’m okay. I’ll have a hell of a bruise no doubt, but I promise I’m okay.”

“Fucking better be,” Eddie mutters as he pulls away, hastily wiping his face. Steve huffs at him.

“Are *you* okay?”

“You did not just ask me that.” Eddie pushes himself off the man, offering Steve his hands and hoisting him up, too. He tests his footing, and it's shaky–something is definitely hurting.

“Eddie…” The fucker has the audacity to turn those sad down-turned puppy eyes on him. Steve knows how bad his wreak was, and it fits him too, to care more about Eddie than himself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m standing, aren’t I?” Steve gestures a bit, Medic in his ear asking him to follow her. Because they’re still in the middle of the run-off, the game paused till Steve gets the okay, and they continue without him anyway.

“Does that sound reassuring to you?” Eddie crosses his arms.

“Hey-“ Steve shrugs, ��-couldn’t miss our date, right?”

And, honest to god, Eddie would throttle him right now. But he can’t.

So, he does the next best thing.

Eddie Munson, pit crew of 86 and crash survivor, crosses the couple steps between him and Steve Harrington, current 86 racer and, hopefully, his boyfriend, and kisses him.

“I’m holding you to that.”

Steve smiles wide and pivots with his hand out for Eddie to take. And Eddie does.

They start following the Medic, but Steve turns around and flashes his goofy grin again, giving everyone in the stadium a thumbs-up.

Eddie laughs as the crowd roars.

#steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #steve x eddie #archive #my writing #race car driver steve harrington #modern au #pit crew eddie munson #but also #race car driver eddie munson

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shangchiswife · 3 months ago

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logan howlett- little black dress

summary: after seeing logan and jean together, you feel jealous and decide to get even.

logan x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 2952

....

The annual gala at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was always an exciting night, with mutants and humans in their best outfits, enjoying themselves and having a blast.

Tonight, however, you had a little more on your mind than just a good time.

You and Logan had been dating for a few months now, and while your relationship was strong, there was something about the way he and Jean spent so much time together recently that had sparked a pang of jealousy in you.

You had chosen a little black dress that hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating every curve with its elegant design.

As you put on your earrings and took one last look in the mirror you felt a rush of confidence, a smirk forming on your lips.

You were ready to drive him absolutely insane.

As you walked into the grand ballroom, the atmosphere was full of energy and excitement.

The soft glow of chandeliers highlighted the glittering attire of the guests, the air buzzing with the sound of clinking glasses and lively conversations.

Your entrance did not go unnoticed.

Heads turned, and conversations paused as you walked confidently through the crowd. You could even see students whispering and pointing at you. At one point one of them even wolf-whistled at you.

“Looking good, Miss L/N,” one of the students called out with a grin.

You shot him a playful look. “That’s a detention for you, Richard,” you said with a smirk, watching as his grin faltered.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Logan, deep in conversation with Jean which made your smile fade.

Game on, you thought as you scanned the room and spotted a handsome mutant dressed in a dark suit talking animatedly with Scott.

When Scott excused himself, you saw your opening.

With a purposeful stride, you approached the man, your eyes sparkling with mischief. His attention shifted to you as you neared, and you flashed him a warm smile.

The mutant’s eyes widened as he drank in your appearance.

“Good evening,” you purred, your voice laced with a hint of playful charm. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you for a moment.”

“Not at all,” he said with a friendly smile. “I’m Stan. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said, offering a hand to him which he graciously took.

“So, Stan,” you said, your eyes sparkling, “What brings you to this splendid event tonight? It’s not every day you meet someone with such an intriguing presence.”

Stan seemed to appreciate the attention, his smile widening as he ran a hand through his blonde hair.

“I was actually looking for a bit of excitement,” he said with a wink. “And it looks like I’ve found it.”

You laughed lightly, making sure to touch his arm casually as you spoke. “Well, I’m glad to be part of your exciting evening. It’s always nice to find someone who knows how to enjoy themselves.”

As the conversation continued, you noticed Logan watching from across the room. His gaze was intense, and you could see his frustration growing. He kept glancing over, unable to tear his eyes away from your interaction with Stan.

His gaze darkened, intense and almost feral, as he took in the sight of you. You saw the way his hand tightened around his drink, the barely restrained hunger in his eyes.

It was exactly the reaction you had been hoping for.

Jean said something to him, but he didn’t respond, his focus entirely on you.

You smiled, just a hint of satisfaction curling your lips before you returned your attention to Stan.

“You know,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “I’m really enjoying our conversation. How about we leave this party and continue it somewhere more private?”

Before you could respond, you saw Logan storming over, his face red with anger.

“Hey, Y/N,” Logan said, his voice clipped. “We need to talk,”

Stan looked between you and Logan, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere. “Is everything alright?” he asked, clearly unsure of what to do.

“We’re fine,” Logan practically barked at him, his eyes not leaving yours for a second.

You glanced at Logan, your expression a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“I think I’ll handle this,” you said to Stan, giving him a reassuring smile. “Thank you for the lovely conversation.”

“Of course,” Stan replied, stepping back. He cast one last, disappointed glance at you before exiting the ballroom.

Logan’s intense gaze remained fixed on you, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bit of wetness pooling in your panties.

“What’s the deal with you and Stan?” he demanded, his voice low and edged with frustration.

“You’re driving me insane, flaunting yourself in that hot little dress and flirting with him like that.”

“I didn’t realize I had such an effect on you,” you said, attempting to sound playful despite the blush creeping up your neck.

Logan took a step closer to you so that your chests were practically touching. The air between you crackled with tension.

“You knew exactly what you were doing,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl. “Watching you with someone else is pushing me to my limit.”

You felt a rush of exhilaration at his dominant demeanor.

“Maybe that was the point,” you said, leaning in slightly, your voice dropping to a whisper. “To make you remember what you mean to me.”

Logan’s eyes darkened with desire, his hand reaching out to grasp your arm firmly.

“You’re testing my patience,” he warned, his voice thick with barely restrained need. “And I’m done waiting.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and the assertive way he was holding you. You tilted your head slightly, your lips close to his ear.

“Maybe it’s exactly what we both needed,” you murmured, your voice laced with suggestiveness. “To see where this tension leads us.”

Logan’s grip on your arm tightened just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“We’re going somewhere more private,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Now.”

With that, he guided you firmly but gently through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours.

The vibrant energy of the ballroom faded as he led you swiftly and confidently towards a quieter, more secluded area.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This is what you were waiting for.

Logan’s hand stayed firmly on your back, leading you towards a quieter, more private corner.

When you reached a quiet corner, Logan wasted no time.

He pushed you gently but firmly against the wall, his body pressing close to yours, his breath hot against your skin.

Logan’s gaze locked onto yours, his eyes full of lust.

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve been torturing me tonight?” he growled, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill of excitement through you.

You could barely keep your composure as his words made you even wetter.

“Maybe I wanted to see just how far I could push you,” you replied, your voice soft and teasing, “to remind you of what you mean to me.”

Logan’s lips curved into a predatory smile.

“Well, you’ve definitely made your point,” he said, his voice dripping with authority. “Now, I’m going to make sure you feel exactly how much I’ve been waiting.”

Without another word, he cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips before he captured them in a deep, demanding kiss. His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and hunger, his hands exploring the curves of your body in a possessive manner.

You responded eagerly, your hands sliding up to his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. Butterflies formed in your stomach, yielding to his every move.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both panting, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Logan’s eyes were dark with desire and dominance.

“I’m not letting you go until you’ve made up for every second I’ve had to wait,” he said, his tone leaving no room for disagreement.

You looked up at him, your breath catching at the raw intensity in his gaze.

“I think I said something, sweetheart,” Logan said, his voice lowering to a soft but commanding murmur. “What do you say?”

Your pulse quickened as you met his gaze, the fire in his eyes fueling your own excitement.

“I’m ready,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

A satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips.

“Such a good girl,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips that left you craving more.

You whimpered softly as he began unzipping your dress, the cool air brushing against your skin as the fabric fell away, leaving you exposed under his hungry gaze.

The sensation of his fingers brushing against your bare back sent shivers through you, making you breathless.

Once the dress was loosened enough, he guided it off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor, his eyes never leaving yours. The look of hunger in his gaze made you feel both vulnerable and incredibly desired.

Logan’s hands roamed over your bare skin with a possessive intensity, each touch sending waves of pleasure through you.

His gaze was unwavering, filled with a deep, primal desire that made every touch feel electrifying.

He took his time, savoring the way your body responded to his touch. His fingertips traced patterns across your skin, exploring and teasing as he gradually shifted his focus to your bare breasts.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he praised before taking one of your nipples in your mouth.

You moaned in delight, your hand instinctively moving to grip his hair, pulling him closer as you arched into his touch.

Logan’s mouth worked expertly, his tongue flicking and sucking with a rhythm that drove you wild.

After a few moments, he pulled back slightly, his lips still lingering on your skin.

His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “You have no idea what it did to me, seeing you in that black dress. It made me want you more than I thought was possible.”

Logan's hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer until you could feel the hardness straining against his pants.

You whimpered as you started grinding on his clothed cock making him groan. You began to grind against his clothed erection, the friction causing both of you to moan.

His grip tightened, guiding your movements with an urgency that made your breath hitch.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Show me how much you want this.”

You could feel his need growing, matched by your own as you pressed harder against him.

As you continued to move, Logan’s hands slid down to cup your ass, pulling you closer and deepening the contact.

His kisses were fierce, trailing down your neck as he held you against him. The heat and urgency in his touch made every moment more intense, heightening the pleasure for both of you.

Logan’s breaths were ragged, his voice low and feral as he groaned against your skin.

“I need you,” you whispered between kisses, your voice a desperate plea.

With a growl, he bent down so that his face was level with your black lacy panties. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs before his teeth caught the edge of your panties. In one swift, deliberate motion, he pulled them down, the fabric sliding away like a tease.

You moaned as the cool air hit your bare pussy.

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on you as he tossed the panties aside. His hands cupped your hips, pulling you closer.

He pressed a heated kiss to your inner thigh, his breath warm against your skin.

When his lips finally brushed against your core, the shock of pleasure made you gasp.

Your hands carded through his hair making him grunt.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, peach,” he murmured eating you out like a man starved, his praise sending a wave of pleasure that made you moan uncontrollably.

He continued his assault on your pussy with his tongue. The way he alternated between teasing licks and firm strokes made you see stars, your moans growing louder with each passing second.

“Lo I’m gonna-” you shut your eyes with contentment as he flicked your clit with his tongue, his movements becoming faster.

“Cum for me baby,” he coaxed, his voice rough with desire. His command sent you over the edge, your body surrendering to the powerful waves of pleasure that crashed over you.

Logan straightened up, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he licked his lips.

“I could eat that pussy for hours,” he said before undoing his belt.

Your eyes widened with anticipation as his cock sprang free, thick, and ready.

With a swift motion, he pressed you against the wall, the cool surface brushing against your bare breasts.

You felt him line his cock against your entrance making you mewl.

“Don’t worry, peach, I’ll take care of you,” his breath brushed against your ear before he playfully nibbled it, causing a light shiver to run through you.

He entered you with a groan.

“Always so fucking tight,” he hissed as your mouth contorted into an o shape from his length stretching you.

He didn’t even give you a moment to adjust to his size before his hips began to move, thrusting deep and relentlessly.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he panted, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust that drove you higher and higher.

Your only response was a high-pitched moan, your body arching involuntarily.

“You wanted me jealous, wanted me to fuck you like this,” he growled, one calloused hand wrapping around your throat while the other found your clit, teasing and tormenting you.

“Well, sweetheart, you got your wish,” he snarled, his cock twitching inside you as your screams urged him on, driving him deeper with every thrust, each one perfectly hitting your g-spot.

He groaned, eyes closing momentarily as he felt you tighten around him.

“Keep making those pretty little sounds, baby,” he commanded, quickening the pace of his hips, and making you squeal even louder.

“Logan, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, your breath hitching as your walls fluttered around him.

“Then cum for me,” he demanded, his voice thick with desire.

The heat between you grew unbearable, and you could feel your release building, your body on the brink of release.

Logan's grip on your throat tightened slightly, just enough to remind you of his control, while his other hand continued its merciless assault on your clit. The rhythm of his hips became erratic, his own need evident as he pounded into you with increasing urgency.

"Come on, baby," he rasped, his voice rough and filled with dark promise. "I want to feel you cum around my cock. Let go for me."

That was all it took.

Pleasure shot through you in waves that left you breathless and shuddering beneath him. Your walls clenched tight around him, milking his cock as you rode out your orgasm, the world fading into nothing but intense, consuming bliss.

Logan groaned deeply, his own restraint slipping as he felt you convulse around him.

His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he let out a guttural growl, releasing inside you in hot, pulsing waves.

He held you there, still and breathless, his body pressed tightly against yours as you both came down from the high.

Slowly, he released his hold on your throat, his fingers brushing over the marks he'd left behind. His other hand stayed between your legs, gently soothing you as you both caught your breath.

"That's my girl," Logan murmured, his voice softer now, laced with a tenderness that made your heart swell. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "You did so good, baby."

“Maybe I should make you jealous more often,” you panted, a smile coming to your lips.

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and rough, as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face.

“You think you can handle it?” he teased back, though the edge in his voice told you he wasn’t entirely joking.

You bit your lip, feeling the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through your body.

“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the outline of your swollen lips before leaning down to capture them in a searing kiss.

“Maybe I should make you jealous more often,” you panted, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at him, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release.

Logan’s eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and warning as he let out a low chuckle.

“You might want to be careful with that, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice rough but tinged with affection.

He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender after the intensity of what you’d just shared.

“Because you know I’ll always give you exactly what you ask for.”

You smiled into the kiss, your heart still racing but now with a warmth that spread through your chest.

“Maybe that’s what I’m counting on,” you teased, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

He groaned softly, his hand trailing down your side, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

“You’re something else,” he murmured, his tone full of admiration as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “But you’re mine, and don’t you forget it.”

“Don’t worry I won’t,”

#logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader smut #logan howlett x reader #xmen x reader #hugh jackman x reader #wolverine x reader smut #wolverine x reader #xmen x reader smut

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lenny-link · 4 months ago

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TF2 x SU au fusions!

oof this took too long but i finally made it !

I kept @gracefireheart Andalusite (HeavyMedic) and @cariocay ‘s Turquoise (EngieSpy) (that i just realized their account got deactivated just a few days ago im sad now) fusion designs because i just found them perfect and whenever i wanted to try making my own designs i always ended up with making something similar to theirs since i was very influenced so i just kept them! They’re so awesome plz check the original artists!

my designs :3 :

About the fusions:

I tried to choose a theme for every fusion that suits the characters like Spessartite (DemoSolly) is a warrior i put Demo’s sword with Soldier’s shield thing well he doesn’t specifically have a shield but yknow the helmet thing i thought that could work.

He’s very powerful, strong and jump into action without a second thought, while he possesses immense strength and a love for loud and chaotic things, his battle prowess is a double-edged sword since his attacks lack precision. however, this unpredictability often leaves his enemies confused and scrambling to defend. he fights more efficiently when drunk lol

Lepidolite (MedicSpy) is a plague doctor, he is very inspired by Hannibal Lecter (nbc Hannibal lol shout out to that one Anon who recommended it for me to watch it lol) at first i wanted to give him a bistouri as a weapon, since it would suit Medic’s saw with Spy’s small knife, but then i felt the fusion was leaning too much towards Medic than Spy, so i put a cane instead to give that old idk gentleman look :P

He is polished and sophisticated, with a hint of underlying sadism and very precise in his movements, he meticulously analyzes his opponents, exploiting weaknesses with surgical precision before jumping into action and strike right where it hurts the most, the cane appears to be a simple walking stick, but inside is a hollowed core that had a retractable, poison-tipped blade, and his poison isn't fast-acting he enjoys toying with his victims, watching as the venom slowly takes hold, fueling his twisted sense of amusement. they are far from being the strongest fusion but they rely a lot on making their opponent weaker by their ability to attack precise hits as well as poisoning them!

Carnelian (SniperScout) his design was inspired by a equestrian outfit (he was the hardest to design tbh bc i wanted his design to be specifically different from the others since Scout is half human so i wanted this "human" aspect to show in the fusion).

He is a walking paradox, he's got Sniper's calm confidence with Scout's hyperactive energy, he loves a good plan but his execution is often fueled by pure adrenaline, he can zip across the battlefield with incredible speed, dodging attacks and flanking enemies. good at mid range and long range attacks but weak at close range, has internalized monologues with himself a lot, he appears calm on the surface however, his foot constantly taps, he fidgets with his slingshot, he cannot stays in place for too long. enjoys taking challenges.

Rubellite (DemoPyro) is a robot with a 50’s cartoon style but with like a creepy vibe to it, their voice sounds like a broken radio perpetually stuck on a laugh track, is both infectious and unsettling.

They just as powerful as Spessartite but just a bit more agile and lean more on the defense style than offense, their body stretches in a cartoony way and battles become a twisted playground for them, a child's game where they hop and blow things up everywhere. they’re very joyful and loves to have fun while making chaos, they usually make jokes but no one understands their muffled voice so they often laugh all by themselves lol the weapon actually expands where the ball and the shaft of the mace connects there’s a chaine (i didnt draw it cuz there was already too much going on in the drawing lol) which helps them reach target from close to mid range easily, they twist and turn their body in very flexible ways before swatting their weapon at their target.

♠︎ If you want to suggest a pair for the next fusion please just comment here DO NOT send it in my ask box plz !!

And if you want to make your own fusion designs/fanart go ahead ! id love to see other people’s interpretations could be ! just don’t forget to tag me and add the tag ( tf2 x su au) :D

hope you enjoy !

+ early designs :

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gibberishfangirl · 5 months ago

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WIND BREAKER | when you wear someone else’s jacket

Synopsis ✰ how they react when they notice you wearing a piece of clothing that isn’t theirs

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw! slight possessive behavior, tiny amount of jealousy, little bit of territorial behavior, minor pda, content of the boys being tested in a way?

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

Sakura knew something was off but couldn’t exactly pin point what it was. you went in for a hug since you haven’t seen your boyfriend all day. it was while he was in your embrace he inhaled a scent, a masculine smell that wasn’t yours or his, his eyebrows immediately furrowed. once you pulled away he examined your body, you looked fine, no visible marks, your outfit was normal… except for that over sized sweatshirt that was draped over your body.

“where’d you get that from?” he asked completely cutting off your babbling. you frowned over his abrupt interruption to your story. he didn’t even look sorry that he ruined your story just blankly staring at you until you opened your mouth to answer.

“a friend from class gave it to me, i was cold.” you answered confused why he was making it a thing. Sakura wasn’t the type to get jealous, it hadn’t even crossed your mind that something like this would ever bother him.

“what friend? boy or girl?” huh, what type of question was that? why would he ask that? there’s no way he could be bothered by something so small, right?

“uhm… a boy? does that matter?” you asked with your eyebrows slightly raised. you had never seen Sakura act so… weird? not over something like this.

“no, just curious.” he finally muttered out after what felt like a lifetime pause. the two of you continued your walk back home in silence. the entire time Sakura couldn’t fight off that frown setting on his perfect face. his eyes were stuck in a trance on you, more like that sweater on your body. you felt your entire body heating up by his intense stare.

you let out a sigh, getting the hint he was clearly upset over the sweater. you stopped in your tracks and pulled the sweater off your body. your boyfriends face immediately perked up after seeing you take it off. he was secretly grateful you did that because he was very unsure how to go about the conversation. before you even knew it, he was already taking off his jacket and putting it on you. you blushed at his action, it wasn’t something you were expecting him to do.

“just come to me whenever you’re cold from now on. i’ll warm you up.” he softly says with the warmest blush spreading across his face.

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

Umemiya is rather calm in most situations so something like this doesn’t necessarily trigger him into doing anything drastic. he didn’t think much of it, until you kept wearing it for the rest of the day— then he started thinking ‘it seriously can’t be that cold, take it off already.’ he didn’t want to ask you whose jacket it was since he didn’t want to come off as jealous… even if he is. one thing he did know for sure was that everyone knew you two were dating. he couldn’t help himself anymore before he started taking off his jacket and removing the one you were wearing. he did it so quickly you almost didn’t even get the chance to register what he did. before you knew it his jacket was wrapped around you. you opened your mouth to ask—

“i just thought you’d look better with mine on.” he cut you off before smiling. his words caused you to blush.

“thank you.” you mumbled still registering what had just happened. he took your hand and interlocked it with his own and continued your walk home.

“who’s jacket is it? i’ll make sure to return it for you.” he smoothly says trying to pry the information of who gave it to you in a subtle way. at least, his version of subtle.

“oh- hm i actually don’t even remember. i almost forgot i was wearing it.” you’re confused now since you actually can’t remember who gave it to you. you stopped in your tracks, deep in thought trying to remember. “ah! i remember now, don’t worry about giving it to her. I can do that myself.” you exclaimed happily as you finally remembered the nice girl who lent it to you. she said it was her older brothers but she was always stealing his jackets and hoodies.

“oh good, i’m glad to hear that.” he smiled as you reached out to grab the jacket from his hands. he was relieved to hear that the jacket was from an innocent classmate of yours.

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

as if anyone could even beat Suo into giving you a jacket before he does. Suo had already noticed the way your body was slightly trembling underneath the vent of the air conditioner. however, he also noticed another boy in the corner of his eye looking at you as well. he saw as the boy already begun taking off his jacket and making his way up to you. Suo suddenly felt this urge of territorial dominance creeping up as he wanted to show that you were his. before the boy could reach you Suo wrapped his arm around your chair and pulled your seat/desk closer to his.

“my poor baby, you’re cold. let me warm you up.” he offered with a smile before pulling you into his arms. your body instantly warmed up due to his own warmth. you happily accepted his offer as you buried yourself against his chest meanwhile he hugged you and rubbed your back with his warm hands.

Suo turned to look at the boy who already walked away after noticing you had a boyfriend to keep you warm. he let out a small sigh before keeping you huddled up on his side for the rest of class.

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

he didn’t even realize the jacket you were wearing wasn’t yours. it looked so perfect and well fitted on you he actually thought nothing of it. the two of you were spending the whole day together and he said nothing about it. until you took it off and he noticed the name on the tag wasn’t yours.

“this isn’t your jacket?” he finally asked looking closer at it.

“oh no. it’s my friends, she let me borrow it after i forgot to bring mine.” you admitted slightly embarrassed you forgot to bring a jacket.

“i thought it was yours this whole time…” he paused, he was unsure of what to feel. should he be jealous? is it not a big deal? should he offer his instead? he decided to listen to his gut feeling. “are you still cold?”

“a little i guess, her jackets pretty thin so i can still feel the air through it.”

“here, take mine instead.”

“thank you.”

“of course! ask me for my jacket next time you’re cold, i have no problem giving it to you.” he smiled before taking your friends jacket and carrying it for you. Nirei didn’t actually care about you wearing someone else’s jacket as long as you weren’t cold, however, he still would prefer seeing you in his jacket before anyone else’s.

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

“take that thing off.” Togame wasted no time expressing his feelings about you wearing another man’s clothes. in all honesty, it irked him way more than he liked to admit. his mind was racing with thoughts of who would be stupid enough to give you their jacket, knowing that you’re his girlfriend.

“huh?? why? i’m cold.” you pouted not wanting to remove the soft material off of your body.

“it’s ugly, you don’t need it. take it off.” his voice was way more stern this time. a small part of you wanted to stand your ground and say no. however, a much larger and smarter part of you knew it was better not to. you took off the jacket with a frown before he snatched it away from your hands.

“wear this instead, my girlfriend shouldn’t go around wearing other men’s clothing.” he scolded while handing over his Shishitoren jacket to you. you wanted to argue but you couldn’t help blushing at his possessive behavior. it shouldn’t have such a strong affect on you but it does.

“who gave it to you anyways? give me a name.” he ordered while scoping out the jacket. it looked strangely familiar but he couldn’t exactly remember where he’s seen it before.

“it’s Choji’s jacket. he offered it to me and said I can keep it until I find you.” you answered with a bright smile. Choji’s gesture meant no harm since he was just trying to look out for his best friend’s girlfriend. he knew Togame wouldn’t have an issue if he knew it was his jacket. yes, you were well-aware of the fact that Togame was only mad because he thought it was someone else’s jacket.

“oh.” the realization settling in as his whole demeanor changed into something more relaxed.

“yes, oh.” you giggled. you could’ve told him sooner that it was Choji’s but where’s the fun in that?

“you called Choji’s jacket ugly.”

“shut up, you should’ve said something sooner.”

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

Choji’s mood went from 100 to 0 real quick. his very bright and wide smile getting wiped off his face as his eyes landed on the jacket you were wearing. you tilted your head in confusion to his sudden mood shift. he was usually ecstatic to see you, you couldn’t help but sadden at the lack of emotion he was expressing towards you. were you two in the middle of a fight? had you argued with him and forgot? you didn’t know why he reacted like that. Choji walked up towards you and swiftly took off the jacket from your body. it happened so fast you couldn’t process what even happened. the emotion of confusion stayed in your body as he walked past you with the jacket thrown over his shoulder.

Choji made it his business as leader of Shishitoren to know everything and everyone. as soon as he saw that jacket on you he knew exactly who it belonged to. once you snapped back into reality you chased Choji down slightly worried about what he was planning to do. you found him with the guy who offered you the jacket by the Ori. you watched from a distance as Choji roughly chucked the jacket to the sitting boy’s face. the boy immediately stood up ready to defend himself.

“keep your filthy jacket to yourself and off my girlfriend from here on out.” Choji spat completely unamused by the whole situation. before the boy could even defend himself, Choji’s dark glare silenced him causing him to sit back down before muttering out a small “i understand.” he truly meant no harm by giving you his jacket but in hindsight he really should’ve known better than to do something so stupid. especially when considering you’re his leader’s girlfriend. Choji left it at that, it was his way of showing mercy and restraint.

“oh, you’re here.” he smiled once noticing you at the end of the street. before you could even respond he clashed himself against your lips roughly deepening the kiss as he practically shoved his tongue down your throat. you felt your face getting red, Choji typically wasn’t so affectionate in public, you knew he was doing this to prove a point. your grip tightened around his shirt before you pulled yourself off, small pants escaping from your lips.

“Cho-Choji you can’t just do that.” you argued extremely flustered.

“sorry! i forget you can get so shy, my pretty girl.” he smiled before softly giving you one more kiss. he had no doubt that the boy who gave you his jacket and his friends had all watched your little display of affection. he didn’t mind them watching, he wanted to remind everyone who exactly you belonged to. Choji wrapped an arm around your waist before pulling you closer as the two of you walked off.

#divider by anitalenia #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #hayato suo #suo hayato x reader #nirei akihiko #nirei akihiko x reader #jo togame #jo togame x reader #choji tomiyama #choji tomiyama x reader #wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #sakura haruka #sakura haruka x reader

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julsvu · 7 months ago

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heyy u take reqs for mha, right? if so, can i request for a monoma x gen neutral reader? reader's in class 1A and is close with all their classmates, but is secretly dating monoma. it's basically the trope 'enemies in public, but lovers in private' but class 1A and class 1B end up finding out about their relationship and lose their minds LMAO

gn! reader

💬: tysm for requesting!! this was so fun to write HSSIDI hope you enjoy !! <33

📒: crack fic kind of??, swearing, written in 2nd pov, monoma is the leader of the sassy man apocalypse, headcanons + a oneshot under the cut :>

being neito monoma's secret lover hcs

during the school festival, neito literally suggested for his class to do a plot where two people would play as secret lovers from different kingdoms that hated each other (he was projecting TEWW MUCH)

one time class 1B was playing truth or dare and he got asked if he was single or not, and this mf said: "my partner goes to a different school! 🙄🙄🙄" bc he couldn't think of any other lie

obviously, everyone poked fun at him

"monoma, y'know being single isn't embarrassing, right..?"

"you can tell us the truth, y'know.."

i feel like kendo probably suspected it at one point

since she saw the way monoma kept investigating your classmates about the villain attacks (as a way of finding out if you're okay or not)

and because his insults towards you was like..so much more detailed compared to your other classmates?? like bro knew EVERY little detail about you, even the details that no one in class 1A knew

she brushed it off though, cause you and neito always argued — there was no way, right? (yes, there was a way)

he claims that class 1A "shines" too much because of you (as a way of hiding the fact that you're the one who he actually pays attention to)

when he approaches class 1A to make fun of them, he actually does it so he can see you (when he sees that you aren't with them, he just scoffs after insulting them, and walks away) (born from the sassy man apocalypse)

your classmates.. i think some of them def knew that you were dating someone, but NOBODY could predict the fact that you'd be dating neito, class 1A's biggest hater, some of your classmates were like "🤨 is this a betrayal or.." 😭😭 goes the same for class 1B, because as said earlier, his insults toward you were so much more..detailed, they thought he hated you more than the others ☠️☠️

they found out when they caught you both dancing together during a U.A high school party

"MY JAW.. WHERE'S MY JAW?" - denki when he found out (one second away from going into his "yay mode")

and u have mina in the corner saying that it's like one of those dramatic secret relationship fanfics (which in this case, it is)

for as long as neito monoma remembered, his heart was full of you. almost like the honey of a beehive, slowly overflowing and dropping to the floor. although, he swears that you're sweeter than honey itself. or, at least, that's how it felt. it started with small, short glances, secret hangouts at a small cafe, texting every day, training with each other, bittersweet confessions, and secret good-luck kisses.

but, for as long as class 1B and class 1A (excluding you) knew, neito and you were enemies, rivals, foes, maybe even nemeses. there was only so much your schoolmates could know, though. U.A's rigid course aided you and your boyfriend in keeping your relationship under warp, people failed to notice the longing stare the blond boy would hold whenever he saw you training with what he described to be "tetsutetsu's twin" from class 1A, the slight tone of pride whenever you'd counter an insult of his with your own words, acting like it wasn't your love language reserved for only each other; sneaking away from your respective dorms to meet each other in the ungodly hours of the night, exchanging sweetened words.

you waited on the bus with your classmates, the vehicle bustling with excited conversations; mina and the girls fangirling over each other's outfits, kaminari asking the "are we there yet?" question every five minutes, iida struggling to keep your classmates quiet, and so on. as you fixed your appearance slightly, you checked the time on your watch, reading that it was now 8:00 PM. however, a certain blond texted you, interrupting your moment of silence.

"darling, we have arrived at the venue. where are you?" monoma texts, with a stunning picture of the venue sent under his text. the dim fairy lights hung around the place, the food table with a chocolate fountain and appetizers, and the chandelier that would highlight the bodies of the people dancing.

just as you finished reading his message, you heard your homeroom teacher state that you guys had arrived. almost immediately, everyone cheered, giggling, and rushed out of the bus, exploring the venue after a few reminders from Mr. Aizawa to not get lost, and to behave. you dusted off your clothing, as you looked around for your boyfriend, neito, before you finally messaged him back.

"i'm at the entrance, neito," and not even five minutes later, you heard the only voice that could make your chest feel warm. neito's.

"hey, pretty," you greet, sending him an awkward wink.

he scoffs, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. "hello yourself, sweetheart."

"shall we dance?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. you give him a nod, as well as a chuckle. he had the tendency to make things as "theatrical" as possible. you were reminded of the time when you guys reenacted an old classical dance on a random rooftop, with no one else around.

a few moments later, the U.A high school party was in full swing, the pulsating beat of the music reverberating through the crowded gymnasium. amidst the sea of bodies, you and your blond boyfriend were drowning in the rhythm, dancing together in the dim atmosphere.

however, the dim atmosphere wasn't enough to hide you and your boyfriend, as well as your secret relationship.

kaminari spat out his drink from a few meters away. he, and mina were hanging out in the food table. "is that (name) and monoma?! the guy that hates us all?!" his jaw drops right after his statement, as he nudged the pink-haired girl beside him. the girl's eyes widen, before she squeals happily, "it's like a forbidden romance! eek!"

in the other side, there was tetsutetsu and kirishima. "yo, that's monoma/(name), your classmate!" they said to each other at the same time, and same speed.

you and neito exchanged a knowing glance, overhearing your classmates' reactions.

"monoma, did you force (name) to dance with you?!" kendo exclaimed, looking at her classmate with furrowed brows, and holding empathy for you. your laugh started off as small snickers, and then to a full-blown laugh, as you fell to your knees, giggling and holding your stomach. in the background was your boyfriend explaining, waving his hands as if to defend himself.

"you and monoma?" mina asks with a grin, behind her, were your classmates, who stopped to hear your answer. flies were about to fly into their mouths, at this rate.

"me and monoma," you replied, chuckling at the whole ordeal.

the situation made the night more entertaining than ever.

#monoma neito x reader #monoma neito x you #monoma neito #monoma neito x y/n #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #monoma x reader #neito x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fluff

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