#the third and fourth gif are so soft i cant

[lovingmayday]

STREET RACER! HOBIE x STREET RACER! READER

warnings : illegal street racing, gambling, cursing, suggestive

notes : this one's not that much focused on street racing anymore. im so very normal about him, cant you tell?

part 1 ☆ part 2

first off, street racer hobart brown is a menace. did i mention that or was i too busy gushing about him last time?

street racer hobie loves getting a reaction out of you, commenting on things he knows would rile you up. and he can read you absurdly easily

street racer hobie and you make seperate bets aside from the main one. like if you win, he does whatever you tell him and if he wins, you do whatever he tells you. and if neither of you win, its a draw and its boring so either of you have to win

if you won, you'd probably ask him to let you drive his car around for a week or so. and if he won,, well...

"What?" you ask, though it was more of a rhetorical question, if anything. You heard him loud and clear, you just couldn't believe it.

He had his distinct smug grin on his face as he takes steady steps backward to his car. "'Said I'll pick you up at 8. Wear somethin' nice and casual, yeah?" he says with his back finally against his restored vintage on wheels, smirking at your heated face.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and opened your mouth, your words delaying by a bit. "You're not gonna stick around for my answer?"

"Won the bet, didn't I? It's set in stone," he muses, switfly entering his car. "Later."

he took you to a gwen stacy concert (gwen is a referred to as "maybe the most influental musician – the greates artist – of our generation" in earth-138) and you both had a great time

pretty obvious when you woke up that morning in your apartment and in the comfort of his arms

it was another date, then a third and a fourth then the next until you both just couldn't stay away from one another anymore

you know how in wwe, fights are rehearsed and they don't act the same behind the camera? it's half something like that. your races are genuine but your behavior with each other isn't

all hostile and aggressive near crowds and never ending insults and mockery from both sides. none of the audiences knew how much street racer hobie loved eating your face behind the curtains

"Hob–" you manage to gasp out between kisses. Your was hand clutched on his vest as his hand behind your head deepens the kiss. A surprised moan escapes past your lips when you feel his knee between your thighs.

You start to become more light-headed. He starts trailing the kisses down to your neck and you reward him with a few soft mewls.

"H-Hobie, we're late. Stop." You try to push him away, your hands on his shoulders but he intertwines them with his' and pins them against the wall.

His lips return to yours' once again, exhaling contently before he departs. "I don't think you want me to stop either, love," he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. You slowly open your eyes to see him smiling.

It wasn't his usual smile — there wasn't an ounce of teasing in it. It was gentle with affection and intimacy. You sigh and plant a short kiss on his. "Wouldn't they be suspicious if we bailed at the same time?"

"Would you care if they did?" he asks, moving your hands to rest around his neck as he puts his' around your waist, pulling you both unbelievably closer. You consider it and give him a small peck before shaking your head. "That's my girl."

[mydearesthrry]

tinsel boas and burnt cookies - t.h.

so hi this was supposed to be in my 25 days of xmas thing but it flopped so here have this xmas themed fic ;)

word count: 715

warnings: none, cussing

fluff!!!!!!!!! also tom x reader :)

happy christmas kiddos love you all

life had always been hectic in the holland/osterfield/barrett/(y/l/n) household, but around christmas time, it was always crackhead hours. this was your third christmas with the boys and you had become accustomed to their traditions. but that doesnt mean you didnt have yours as well. tom, the boys, and you had made a promise with eachother to go to see christmas lights on houses every year, and so far, you haven’t broke the streak. after the “sightseeing”, you always decorated the house, the tree, and most importantly, eachother. (decorations always seemed to get on everyone for some reason, fake snow always ended up in harry’s hair instead of the tree). since this was always your favorite part, you mainly wanted to decorate the tree.

since you were always some sort of a micromanager, you had assigned roles for everyone. tom was on the cookies, harry was taking christmas photos, harrison was on the alcohol/eggnog, and sam and tuwaine were decorating the house. as you were putting ornaments on the tree, you felt two strong arms wrap around you, an unmistakable smell of cinnamon filling your senses. you smiled, swaying side to side to the soft song that was playing from the speakers-- justin biebers song mistletoe to be exact. you turned around in toms grasp, smiling up at him, nudging your nose with his, giving him a small eskimo kiss.

“mmm,” he hummed, “whatcha doinnnnn!” he asked, walking around the freakishly large christmas tree.

“....decorating? its my job! and youuuuu,” you said, pushing your pointer finger in his chest, “mister, should be doin’ yours!” you giggled, picking up a long string of tinsel, only to have it taken by tom, who wrapped the whole strip around his body, dramaticizing his actions by flapping the ends around.

“you like my boa? i look pretty stylish, dont i darlin’?” he grinned, the silver strip of shiny metal foil rubbing against his ugly sweater almost seamlessly.

“yes you look like a movie star with your tinsel boa but, i think it suits me better!” you challenged, pulling a red strip of tinsel around your shoulders, mocking tom.

“oh you are so on!” he looked at you with a certain gleam in his eyes. one that told you everything but at the same time nothing.

“no holland, get your ass back in the kitchen and cook those damn cookies! santa cant be a baddie without his fatty! now goooooo!” you said, laughing hysterically the whole time before shooing him away to where he originally was.

once you were done with the tree, you decided to refill on your eggnog and check on your boyfriend, a big double whammy if you ask me. once you refilled your drink, you went over to your curly headed boy, admiring him as he rolled little balls of chocolate chip cookie dough in his hands.

“oi mate! did you wash your hands before rolling those out! dont wanna eat your kids, now do we?” haz called from his spot on the sofa, the other boys roaring with laughter. tom all but chuckled, telling them to ‘fuck off’, before picking up more pieces of dough.

“hi babyyyyyyy!!!” you went over to him, grabbing a ball of dough and popping it in your mouth. you talked with tom about the plans for the next couple of days, entering the room in 10 minute intervals, grabbing pieces of food poisoning in a ball. after the fourth time you came into the kitchen, tom shooed you away, kicking the back of your shin with his heel. a batch of cookies had been in the oven already, baking fast.

“y/n, i’m making christmas cookies sTOP SNEAKING IN HERE TO EAT THE DOUGH OR I’LL SMACK YOU WITH A SPOON!” he huffed, threatening to rub his oily hands on you.

“fine! fine! but if i do get food posioning, will you take care of me?” you held your hands up in surrender, before dropping them and taking a few steps closer to tom.

“of course i would!” he smiled, leaning in to give you a kiss. harry walked in, audibly ew-ing, before snapping a quick candid of the two of you.

“tom, the cookies are burning.” harry quipped.

“SHIT! I DO THIS EVERY YEAR!”