SYN: Apparently, ignoring the rattling your car made every time you accelerated wasn’t a good idea, so here you are now at the auto repair shop after your car broke down in the middle of the road, facing the brunt of your mechanic, James', endless teasing.
You say it’s bad luck, your mechanic says you’re a bad driver. But if there’s anything you both can agree on, it’s that he wants you.
Just as bad as you do.
mechanic!james ooo i’m so in love, suggestive (VERY, pls keep this in mind before reading. but its not smut dw ^^), smoking, he’s a bit mean, some banter, swearing, a whole lotta kissing 😳, strangers to... something, first cortis fic pls be nice :’-), if i missed any tags pls lmk!!
WC: 2.1k
A/N: you guys dk how much this photo changed me…. the hoes (me) truly did love this!! but anw CELEBRATORY POST BC I SECURED VIP TICKETS TO DANIEL CAESAR YES GODDD!!! IM SO HYPED I LOVE U DANNY!!!! i was supposed to post this at a later date but i got too excited so here's the oneshot not proofread
“I’m impressed your car lasted this long, really.” James chuckles, shaking his head as he wipes his hands on a rag, quickly staining it black. He slings the dirty fabric over his shoulder, indifferent to how the grease rubs onto his shirt.
“What do you mean?” You raise a brow, crossing your arms and jutting a hip out at his backhanded compliment. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s praising the resilience of your car, but both of you know that’s not the case—not with that tone of voice.
“Oh, you know,” he slips a cigarette between his lips, “it just doesn’t seem like you’re a… responsible owner.”
The teasing lilt to his voice does nothing but irk you, already fed up with his jokes ever since you waltzed into his shop to pick up your car. Unfortunately for you, though, James still wasn’t done fixing whatever was wrong with your baby, even when it’s been a day and a half since your car got towed, taking it upon himself to fix the other things wrong with your car... which was everything, apparently.
“How could you be so sure?” You quip, leaning on the counter beside you.
“Angel, I’m a mechanic.” He says, voice muffled as he lights the cigarette in his mouth. “I’m pretty sure that’s enough qualification to know whether you’re treating your car right or not.”
James laughs when he sees you roll your eyes, followed by a sour look as you pretend not to hear him. Surely, he’s aware of how much he’s getting on your nerves with all the teasing remarks he’s made about your driving skills since this morning. It’s almost like he found joy in seeing your brows furrow in frustration every time he opened his mouth.
He’s lucky he’s so attractive.
But as if the mean look you had on your face wasn’t enough to satisfy his need to annoy you, James throws another jab at your skills. “What, cat got your tongue?” He smirks, eyes crinkling as he exhales a puff of smoke to the side, careful not to blow it your way.
Once again, you could only manage to roll your eyes. It was already five in the evening, and you’ve been taking the brunt of his teasing since you got here around ten am. If you had a choice, you would’ve just gotten your car tomorrow or maybe another day, but your parents were coming back home tomorrow after vacationing overseas, and you promised to pick them up. You had to get this car today, or else you’d expose your bad life choices to your dad, who had graciously gifted you this car on your graduation.
As you watch James peacefully take a smoke break while answering texts on his old motorola, you can’t help but admire the way his arm flexes each time he reaches for the cigarette hanging on his lips. You notice how his face relaxes into a stern look, sharp brows, and a natural frown that looks scary to a stranger’s eye—a stark contrast to his true personality, but to you, it was this fierce look that gave him his charm.
He was fun and dangerous, the kind of guy your parents told you not to associate with and to avoid at all costs. But they should’ve known they raised a thrill seeker. James was exactly what you were looking for to spice up your boring little private school life.
If it were any other man saying all these things to you, best believe you’d have given them a piece of your mind long ago. After all, you weren’t the type to just sit there and take a beating, but this was James we’re talking about, and it’s not every day you see a man with a face like his. Not only that, you were a sucker for playful teasing and men who are… good with their hands.
The thought has your gaze drifting to his arms, admiring the way the veins run up from his slender fingers and just before his elbows. Even when James was covered in a mixture of oil and grease, each of his movements highlighted the muscles on his arms, almost as if they were taunting you.
Putting out his used cigarette, he walked over to the other side of the room to tinker with another vehicle that needed fixing. The silence allows you the opportunity to fully take him in, silently observing him work his magic. It was hard to turn your eyes away, really. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t will yourself to watch something else. James was a sight for sore eyes, with his copper brown hair and striking features; there was no doubt in your mind that he had broken a few hearts.
You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, carefully scanning the engine bay to figure out what’s wrong with the vehicle he’s working on. The summer heat had sweat dripping down his forehead and biceps, slowly rolling down his neck and highlighting the veins on his arms.
James lifts his hand up, using the back of his hand to wipe away the evidence of his hard work, but his action does nothing to help his situation, only pushing the sweat to the side of his face and letting it roll uncomfortably down his collarbone. He tuts, pulling his tank top up to his neck to absorb the sweat, giving you a full view of his washboard abs. The sight elicits a gasp from your lips, no doubt catching his attention when his eyes flicker to you.
You whip your head to the view outside, trying to avoid eye contact, but to your dismay, James had already caught you staring.
“Like what you see?” He asks, feeling smug from catching you staring at his toned body. When you refuse to acknowledge him, he saunters over to you with that stupidly handsome smirk playing on his lips, leaning over the counter opposite you so that you are face-to-face. You catch a whiff of his scent at your proximity, the smell of cigarettes, oil, and the summer heat filling your senses.
If there were any way you could describe James with just one word, it’d be a man. A man who would swoop you off your feet with just one look. A man who would get your heart racing with his teasing remarks. And a man who was perfectly, in all aspects, your type.
You’d be stupid not to take this opportunity.
“And what if I do?” You say, matching the smirk on his lips, “What’re you gonna do about it?”
James is visibly taken aback by your response, fully expecting you to give him attitude like you usually did, but he quickly reins himself back in, biting his lip in an attempt to hide his excitement. He was a sucker for girls with an attitude–loved when they could match his energy and give him a challenge. He’s constantly looking for that playful banter that has his heart running marathons, the type that has him craving for more. So when presented with a beauty like you who had a bite, who was he to say no?
He hums as if to think, clearly enjoying your provocation. “What do you want me to do about it?” James asks, firing the question back to you. He leans closer on the counter, propping his chin up on his fist as he stares you down with his hawk-like gaze, amusement swimming in his irises when you lift one sharp brow.
When you open your mouth to respond, James finds himself tuning your voice out, mesmerized by the way your dark red gloss shone under the lights, just begging to be kissed. His eyes wander up, admiring the way your long lashes fluttered beautifully with each blink and the gentle slope of your nose, creating an angelic look. But he’s once again back on your lips, tracing its fullness and the defined curve of your cupid’s bow. At this point, he was full on not listening, drowning your voice out, and thinking about how nice your lips would feel on his. Would it be as soft as it looked? Would it taste like cherries, just as the color implied?
So when you snap a finger to pull him out of his reverie, asking, “Are you even listening?” James takes it upon himself to find out the answer to his thoughts, pulling you in by the neck with one hand and stopping just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.
“Push me away right now if you don’t want this.” He whispers, eyes half lidded as he gazes down at your wide eyes. The closeness takes your breath away, taken aback by his boldness.
But James’ grip was loose–loose enough to allow you to pull away if you wanted to without much effort, but instead, you meet his eyes. It was only now that you realized that James was the type of man who’d take what he wants when given the opportunity, dominant in the way he doesn’t shy away from claiming what he deemed his. Nevertheless, his eyes express a strange vulnerability deep within, one that begs you to give him a chance, even when it’s just from a single, fleeting kiss.
Underneath the cool, gruff facade lies a yearning that sends shivers down your spine. It’s bad enough that his outward appearance fits your type to a T—all sharp and mean and rough, but added with this new side of him that you were yet to explore has you feeling a thrill you’ve never felt before. As James’ eyes bore into yours, pulling you in with desire swirling in his amber irises, it was clear to you what you wanted. Never in your life have you felt more powerful and yet also more like prey than in this moment.
It was both confusing and exciting, and it’s exactly this feeling that has you pulling him in by the collar of his top, smashing your lips onto his into one messy kiss. It’s the wanting in his eyes, and the thought that, maybe, he wanted you even more than you did, that electrifies you. So you let all that built-up tension between you since this morning out into this heated kiss.
You feel the roughness of James' hands on your neck, assertive in the way he tightens his grip to pull you even closer–not tight enough to choke, but strong enough to claim.
He’s confident now. He’s commanding. And he’s taking every breath that you could give, selfish in the way he doesn’t give you a second to breathe.
But when you finally do get air, you find that scent again, that intoxicating smell of danger and tobacco, but somewhere underneath, there was a hint of a chypre fragrance that pulls you in and traps you, a grip that doesn’t want to let go. You let yourself be consumed, not minding how the grease of his hand stains the fabric of your jeans when he pulls you closer by the waist, fingers teasing just between the denim and your skin, and pushing your body flush against his.
Your hands wander his chest, hardened with muscle, before climbing up his collarbone and instinctively wrapping around his neck. You play with the hair on his nape, gently pulling the short hairs and eliciting a soft grunt from his throat. With his thumb, James pulls down your bottom lip, opening your mouth to give him more access as he angles your face up to kiss you better.
His thoughts of you were not far from reality, lips just as soft as he imagined, mixed with the sweet headiness of cherries in the summer. All he could think of right now was that he wanted more of this flavor—wanted to know what else he could taste.
Just like any other moment, however, this too was meant to end when the loud sound of a ringtone pierces through the silence. You let go with a gasp, breathing heavy as you look around to find the noise. Vibrating on the table was his old motorola, waiting to be answered.
“Fuck,” James curses, breathless and in disbelief as he picks up his work phone and runs a hand through his messy hair, “sorry, just–fuck, wait a second. I’ll be back, quick.”
He punches the answer button with his thumb and rushes outside his shop, breathing heavily as his brows furrow into a deep scowl. Silently and almost dumbfounded, you stand alone next to the counter, lips still tingling from the aftermath of him.
You could only watch in silence through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his shop, still breathless as you gently leaned over the counter to process what just happened. But when he finally puts down his phone and catches your gaze from outside, he throws you a wink before running back to where you are.
With that same annoyingly handsome smirk on his face, he grabs you by the waist, pulling your body up against him and saying:
"So... where were we?"
A/N: sorry for the rushed ending, i really dk how to end this :p and if there are any plot holes, we don't acknowledge them !
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