#drink driving Penalties

[drinkdriverlawyer]

Guide to Understanding the Penalties for Drink Driving

Drink Driver Lawyer presents the ultimate guide to understanding the penalties for drink driving. From fines to license suspension and even imprisonment, our comprehensive guide covers everything you need to know about the legal ramifications of driving under the influence of alcohol. Stay informed and avoid the consequences with Drink Driver Lawyer.

[archiverstappen]

HI!! Hope you are well! I was wondering if you could do a smau, ferrari!reader (daughter of the ferrari family, like hier to the company? Idk how to explain lol) x max verstappen, where they have known eachother for a while through Jos and stuff, and they are really close, but everyone thinks it's just because they are friends? And then max hard launched reader because everyone is shipping her with one of the ferrari boys? Thanks! <3

hard launch ✧ max verstappen

max verstappen x ferrari! fem! reader

masterlist

had so much fun writing this! thank you for sending in your request anon <3 (requested)

[twitter]

[instagram]

yn_ferrari

liked by charles_leclerc and 1.830.616 others

yn_ferrari eat pasta drive fasta 🍝

view all 1.828 comments

scuderiaferrari See you tomorrow boss 🫡

username mother is mothering more than she has ever mothered before 😍

charles_leclerc bet you were drunk after drinking that amount of wine

↳ yn_ferrari stop spreading lies

↳ username never beating the couple allegations

↳ username i ship it🥰

username “CHA” for CHArles?!??! 🥺🥺

↳ username GIRL😭😭

maxverstappen1 🫃

↳ yn_ferrari papa asked you to let charles/carlos win for once🥹🙏🏼

↳ maxverstappen1 As much as I love papa, I’m afraid I can’t do that💙

↳ yn_ferrari nicorosberg please do your magic

username IS THAT MAX IN THE 3RD PICTURE?!

↳ username it’s charles😌

yn_ferrari

liked by carlossainz55 and 1.288.711 others

yn_ferrari always a meaningful race at monza! so glad to be back and see all the tifosi that came to show their support❤️ congrats to carlossainz55 for the podium! (and to maxverstappen1 for breaking the record 😒)

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maxverstappen1 Thank you, Y/N😚

↳ yn_ferrari it’s all your fault! nicorosberg 🙍‍♀️

↳ nicorosberg Forza Ferrari❤️

↳ yn_ferrari you’re welcome, i guess you deserved it🤷‍♀️

↳ username is it just me?? but i feel like y/n is so rude to max sometimes :/

↳ username girl chill😭😭 that’s just how they are, they’ve been friends for over twenty years now

scuderiaferrari Lovely to have you and bossman here! Please visit often❤️

↳ yn_ferrari i think i still have to recover, feels like my hand is broken by how hard papa squeezed it throughout the race

username “ferrari fans always in spain (without the s)” SO TRUE 😩

charles_leclerc Are we still on for the family dinner tonight

↳ yn_ferrari you’ve been uninvited, you almost gave papa a heart attack

↳ carlossainz55 😂😂😂

↳ yn_ferrari you too mr. sainz

↳ carlossainz55 THATS NOT FAIR

username i just love the banter between charles and y/n😭 i want what they have

[message]

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maxverstappen1

liked by yn_ferrari and 4.716.109 others

maxverstappen1 You still make my heart beat fast, Ferrari❤️

tagged: yn_ferrari

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yn_ferrari i thought i told you to keep it PG😡 5 SECOND PENALTY FOR MAX VERSTAPPEN

yn_ferrari unoriginal caption taken from song lyrics?! 183621 SECOND PENALTY!!

↳ maxverstappen1 I love you🥰

↳ yn_ferrari love you too 😮‍💨

username SCREAMING CRYING WTF😭

username i can’t see i’m blind😵

redbullracing SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY?! 😮

↳ scuderiaferrari FORZA FERRARI SIEMPRE!!!🐎

papaferrari Please delete

papaferrari yn_ferrari I think we need to have a little chat

↳ yn_ferrari i’m not the one who posted the pictures😭

↳ papaferrari Okay… Please tell Max not to come to the dinner tonight 👍😁

↳ maxverstappen1 WHAT NO, I CAN EXPLAIN

username b-b-b-but charles + y/n? 🥲

↳ username we lost💔

username a good day to be a ferrstappen shipper

↳ username WAR IS OVER

username THE 2ND PIC I-

charles_leclerc Took you guys long enough🙄

yn_ferrari

liked by maxverstappen1 and 3.921.551 others

yn_ferrari some things never change

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 2.419 comments

username okay i guess they’re cute or whatever🙄

maxverstappen1 ❤️💙

papaferrari Can you just give this old man a break…

↳ username i volunteer to be your daughter 🧎‍♀️

username fell to my knees in the middle of walmart

charles_leclerc 20+ years of this 🫠

↳ yn_ferrari 😬😬😬

↳ maxverstappen1 💪💪💪

username i just need to know papa ferrari’s current favorite grid son, given all the situations happening right now😂

↳ yn_ferarri will always and forever be @/sebastianvettel

↳ charles_leclerc WOW

↳ carlossainz55 WOW

↳ maxverstappen1 WOW

↳ kimimatiasraikonnen Wow.

↳ sebastianvettel 😁😁😁

_

pictures (c) to pinterest and instagram

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

+18

𝓔𝔁 𝓑𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓗𝓛!𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓲𝓼…

a ruthless enforcer who’s not afraid to get into a fight. Rafe’s an enigma. He only lets his guard down for a handful of people. To everyone else, he’s intimidating and cold

dressed in athleisure always, unless it is date night or game day. Cozy joggers, sweatshirts, v-neck t-shirts, and backward hats. He takes off his gold rings for games, but he never takes off his signature gold chain.

particular about his hair. He has a modern mullet with a longer fringe. He's always perfectly “undone,” removing his helmet and brushing his sweaty bangs off his pretty, chiseled face.

awful at dealing with his emotions. He has a temper—one that lands him in the penalty box often. It’s always a risk mic’ing him up because the NHL never knows what he’ll say.

an expert shit talker, chirping constantly. He loves getting in his opponent's head in any way, whether verbal or physical.

strong. Between ice time and workout, he's ridiculously cut. Thick forearms, massive biceps, deep abs and v-lines, and muscular thighs. Sometimes, he catches himself being too rough, but you swear you can take it.

so good at texting. He never fails to give you the butterflies when he’s out of town— sending you pics and texts just to let you know he's thinking about you.

a sweet talker. His favorite pet names are Baby, Princess, and Pretty; always laced in that deep southern drawl.

touchy. His hands are always on you: grabbing your hips, wrapping his big arms around you to give you a hug

posessive... He loves telling you you're his and hearing you say it.

an ace at the game. He’s known for being rough and tumble but has good hands and outstanding stats.

really, really good with his hands in more ways than one. His big hands can make you a wet mess in record time.

rich, and he loves spoiling you.

unreal in bed and his stamina is insane.

a sharp dresser. Rafe always shows up on gameday with a new designer suit. His favorite is an all-black Gucci suit.

soft around you. He's still rough around the edges, but he can't stay mad at you for anything, and you'd always get your way even on the little things, so much so that you'd tease him for it, which made him melt because “who the hell else teases him?”

always hurt. Walking around with a busted lip or a shiner.

a playboy - he was a fuckin’ dog before he met you, and those old habits were hard to break

always in his head. You're the one that got away, and he thinks about it often.

protective as hell. He checks on your socials nightly, making sure you’re okay

a jealous fuck. He’ll sabotage anyone who even looks your way without a second thought

thoughtful. He sends you your favorite flowers and that designer purse you had your eye on when you were together, waiting by his phone to see if you’ll give him anything even just a “thank you, Rafe” and he’d be more than satisfied

observant. Especially when it comes to you… He remembers everything: your coffee order, from the drinks the two of you would grab from your favorite cafe before the game. It's a little pregame ritual that he let you be a part of. He remembers your favorite songs, which is also part of his pregame routine. He loved going for a drive, listening to music, and hearing you sing along with your favorite songs, most of which he didn't know and didn't care to know; he just liked hearing your voice. He also remembers the smell of your signature perfume, the sweet elixir stamped into his memory. One of his college sweatshirts you wore the last night you were together is folded up in his drawer, and it still smells like you.

hopeful. He always sets a ticket aside for you just in case he runs into you before the game and you agree to come.

always looking around for you. At your favorite coffee shop before the game or places, he knows you’ll love, hoping to “run into you.”

reckless with his cash. Rafe went on a spending spree since cocaine wasn't an option: cars, watches, jewelry, trips, anything and everything to get his mind off you.

aggressive on the ice. Especially after your breakup, known for playing dirty. Samming bodies against the glass, throwing gloves for next to nothing, breaking sticks to get out his last bits of aggression before crashing down on the bench, burying his head in his gloves, only to go back out on the ice and crash out again.

humbled by his co-captain. He’s the only one who knows how much Rafe was affected by the breakup. He lets him know he needs to figure his shit out because it’s hurting his game and the team.

lonely. He dreads post-game losses because you were his anchor, someone who could ground him— focused more on how he was feeling versus the “game-talk” he gets from everyone else. At first, he hated it, but now he craves it, trying to remember those conversations and the sweet words you said on his drive home

really lonely… He hasn't been with anyone since and doesn't want to which is unheard of for him.

determined to win you back, which means that he’ll have to talk about all the shit he’s feeling, whichnhe knows is for the best. He’s trying to be the man that he knows you deserve.

[laura1633]

Max has had a truly insane last 6 races, this doesn’t even cover everything (and I’m going off the top of my head here and not fact checking) but - 

Singapore:  Max is dragged into the stewards room for swearing in a press conference and the stewards lose their minds and hit him with community service. Fuelled by talent and spite he somehow manages to drag the car to P2 in a race where Red Bull were expected to be nowhere. He uses the opportunity to refuse to elaborate on answers in the press conference and ends up holding his own press conference outside the room like the absolute main character that he is. 

Austin: We get treated to an insane defensive masterclass from Max and a reminder of why he really is so difficult to beat.

Mexico:  The stewards try to drown him in penalties but he still manages to finish sixth and prevents his nearest championship challenger from winning. His driving causes the British media to almost implode with rage and Damon Hill manages to stop crying just long enough to compare him to Dick Dastardly.

Brazil: The race directors take it upon themselves to try and make the championship battle more interesting by risking drivers safety and waiting an eternity to bring out the safety car in the sprint and the red flag in qualifying. Luckily the British press are still crying so much over Mexico that they flood the track with their tears and Max storms to victory in a wet race. We get a nice little sassy ‘simply lovely’ to top it all off (Max never forgets). We also later get a nice bit of news that notorious Max Verstappen hater Damon Hill will be leaving sky sports (whether this had anything to do with the Dick Dastardly comparison we will never know!)

Las Vegas: There are rumours that Red Bull brought the wrong wing but it turns out that they just never had an appropriate wing to begin with (whether that is better or worse you can decide!). On the weekend where he can win the championship Max has to sit in the garage and watch his team start cutting into the rear wing of his car. Luckily it’s just the RB20 and he didn’t have to watch them try and massacre Rocky in front of his very eyes. He somehow manages to get the arts and crafts project across the line in fifth and wins a very deserving fourth championship. He does his media rounds with a drink in his hand and calls out Zak Brown live on sky for previously saying he couldn’t win without the fastest car (Like I said, Max never forgets)

Qatar: Max spends the sprint trying and failing to catch a Haas but then does ‘something’ in his drivers room and takes a very unexpected pole in qualifying. You would think the stewards are done with harassing him now that the championship is over but alas he finds himself in the room with them once more. George Russell (allegedly) throws a strop and (presumably) brings out his passport to ensure that Max is given a penalty for something nobody has ever been given a penalty for before. Once again Max turns his anger at the situation into something very productive and takes the place back almost immediately in the race and secures another victory. He then calls out George very publicly for being two faced (once again I need to remind you, Max never forgets!). 

So basically six races of being hit with penalties, driving an arts and crafts project held together with hope and dreams, being compared to one of the wacky racers and getting his revenge multiple times over. All whilst taking multiple victories and a championship. Not bad really. 

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐡. 𝟐 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

poly! carlando x reader | read chapter one here. | join taglist

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ this is the entire intro to the second chapter. in the outline, it's called "the first strike." any predictions? well, you're in for a ride, let me tell you that. full chapter two coming soon. tysm for being patient and understanding x

On this Monday in May, you’re awake before the sun, watching it rise over Madrid as you drive to Golf La Moraleja. This summer begins the same as those before it, with your coworkers complaining about being required to attend a meeting—filled with the same information you’ve all heard every year since you first started—and, holding it so early in the morning. 

Your eyes ache from lack of sleep but it doesn’t hinder you from complaining all the same; returning employees should be allowed to skip the first meeting of the season as it’s more of an orientation for the new hires. Marco, your boss, disagrees. He says that senior employees need to be present to set a good example of the standards and expectations for the rookies. 

You’re unsure if a group of seven, sleep-deprived, twenty-something-year-old, beverage cart drivers could be described as a “good example.” At least there’s a breakfast spread. The seven of you can be good examples of how to take advantage of a free meal.

As Marco drones on about procedures and policies, your mind drifts to the late-night you had. 

Your eyes burn with exhaustion because you missed out on a few hours of sleep to talk with your boyfriends. You listened as Lando ranted about how disappointing his car performed this weekend and Carlos still seemed surprised that he managed to hold onto fifth place with a time penalty. Neither of the boys wanted to sweat out more of their body weight in water in a packed, humid, Miami club after a particularly demanding race, but you convinced them to at least have a drink or two with Fernando Alonso to celebrate his podium finish.

You may not have the most in-depth Formula One knowledge, but you know that dragging that Aston Martin onto the podium is an astounding feat. Carlos admires the man greatly, even if he pretends to be salty about being the second-favorite Spanish F1 driver. Lando respects Alonso largely as well, he talks kindly about the time he spent shadowing him at McLaren.

You styled their outfits for the night with sleepy eyes. Carlos endlessly showered you with compliments every time he glanced at you through the screen of his laptop. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered at every endearment; you believed in the hermosa’s and linda’s with each repetition, even as your phone mirrored the image of you: makeup-free, bonnet, and pimple patch-riddled.

Lando (after Carlos kicked him out of the bathroom for being unable to control his wandering hands) splayed across the hotel bed on his stomach, the love ? —the longing he has for you is visible through the pixels. His feet kicked back and forth behind him mindlessly as he attentively listened to you ramble about the authorship credit you received in a textbook for research you did last year.

You sighed deeply. If only the world knew how these two men ended the call by blowing kisses through the screen, whining about having to wait another couple of months until they get to see you in person. 

If the world knew, maybe that woman in the club wouldn’t have tried (and failed) to make a move on your boys.

When your alarm sounded for today’s early morning meeting, you awoke to the sight of your phone being spammed with Twitter links and texts with your name in all caps.

The hashtag Carlando is trending on Twitter because of an anonymous submission to a gossip account that details Lando and Carlos “getting cozy” with a woman in a club. Thankfully, the anonymous submission was proven false—with photo evidence, at that. 

The first photo caused a sense of dread to build within you. It shows a blond woman standing next to them at the bar, her beady eyes predatory as she stares up at Carlos with a disgusting smirk and her hand is offensively outstretched, tugging at the collar of his polo. Lando, who’s standing next to the Spaniard, looks at her with an expression of shock and disbelief, while Carlos only offers her his trademarked confused stare.

The second photo transformed that sense of dread into a feeling of relief, pity, amusement, and vicarious embarrassment. 

The image captured the woman dropping her hand away with an annoyed frown and a sharp glare thrown at Lando, whose disposition has switched from surprised to unimpressed, illustrated by his well-known disgruntled nose scrunch. Carlos isn’t looking at the woman anymore, he’s taken a step backward and is staring at Lando. His hand is clasped on the younger man’s shoulder and he’s seemingly trying to pull him away from the woman.

You wish there were more photos. 

The online consensus is that the woman in the photo needs to change her entire identity if she wishes to have another peaceful day on Earth. The F1-adjacent internet is clowning this poor girl about her seduction attempt on Carlos going so terribly that Lando had to put a stop to it. There’s a smaller portion of people saying that Lando couldn’t handle the sight of somebody trying to flirt with Carlos right in front of him—they’re closer to being correct than they know.

Nevertheless, you kind of feel sad for the woman: waking up after a night out with a nasty hangover only to find out you’re being lambasted on social media because there’s photo evidence of you being rejected after a terrible attempt at flirting. You refuse to imagine it; seeing her experience is enough for you. 

While it’s early morning in Spain, it’s midnight in Florida. The two men are asleep and unaware of their current trending status. Hopefully, that will last until you’ve returned home from this staff meeting and taken a long nap. But, damn, you’re dying to know exactly what Lando said that had her looking so insulted. 

You jolt to attention at a tap on your shoulder.

“Muchacha, the meeting is finished,” Isa’s eyes match your exhaustion, “Were you even paying attention?”

“Does it matter if I was?” You ask, heaving yourself out of your seat and waiting for your friend to do the same. “We’ve had the handbook read to us for the last five years. Zoning out during this orientation doesn’t matter to me.”

“¿Perdóname?”

You turn around to see one of the new hires addressing you. The first thing you notice is that he’s tall, like an American basketball player, type of tall. The second thing you notice is that he can’t be any older than twenty; unless he’s lucky enough to be so babyfaced. He’s tall and lanky, sporting sharp cheekbones, a nose that reminds you of Carlos, a pair of eyes similar to Lando’s, and an artfully styled mess of dirty blonde curls atop his head. Objectively speaking, he’d make a hell of a supermodel.

“I’m Alejandro, or Alé. I wanted to introduce myself before I started training with you tomorrow,” he states kindly, with a broad smile.

Zoning out during this orientation suddenly mattered very much. Last summer—sometime in June, before Carlos and Lando reappeared—you offered to train an employee if Marco needed the extra help. You must have missed the part of the meeting when he assigned Alejandro to you.

“Oh! Yes, sorry,” you introduce yourself to the kid kindly, apologizing mindlessly, “I am very tired and I was not paying attention—don’t tell Marco that. I’m supposed to be setting a good example for the new kids.”

He laughs, “I think you are a great example of reminding everyone to sleep for at least eight hours every night.”

“I can’t disagree with that, can I?” You smile politely, “Well, I promise I’ll be a better role model when training officially starts. You’re stuck with me for a month, right?”

“I would not say I am ‘stuck’ with you—that would be mean,” Alejandro snorts lightly, “But, yes. I will be riding along with you for a month. Marco says that I’m lucky to be paired with you.”

“Did he?”

“Sí. He said you’re one of his best cart servers and that you bring in the most tips.”

Isa snorts behind you. Without needing to look, you reach behind to smack her on the back of the head. He doesn’t need to know that your secret relationship with two Formula One drivers is responsible for the extra money you made last year.

“I’m a young woman working on a golf course. Which, is why I make plenty of tips.”

Alejandro hums, raising a brow, “Really?”

“There’s more than a few sleazy men that come out here willing to throw cash at anyone who wears a smile, skirt, and pigtails.”

“Ah, well,” he shrugs jokingly, his picture-perfect smile relaxing into something natural, “I do not have enough hair for pigtails and could not pull off a skirt. I do think I can manage a smile.”

Squinting, you survey his form, “Don’t worry; there are men out there who prefer the sight of boys in tight shirts and short shorts instead of girls in short skirts. Ask Ryan or Rob. They make more money than me some days!”

“Is this your fancy plan to get me into tighter clothes?” Oh. He’s misunderstood you.

“Wow,” you deadpan, “You caught me. No, niño, I’m only ‘training’ you on how to make your wallet very happy. If you are uncomfortable with showing a little thigh, that’s okay.”

“I’m a model,” He scoffs with a smirk (you called it, him being a model), “of course, I do not mind showing more skin; however it looks like you want to see me in less clothing, as well.”

Your mouth drops open at the insinuation. Behind you, Isa full-body laughs herself to tears. The rest of your cart team—Lucas, Rob, Ryan, Sofia, and Steph—turns to look at Isa, wanting to know what she finds so funny. The entire clubhouse will know that the new kid tried to flirt with you by the end of the day. 

You shake your head fervently, “Woah, uh, no. ¡Dios mío! I hope I never see what’s under your clothes, full offense. I’m happily in a relationship! Also, not that it matters to me since I’m not interested in you, but—you are way too young for me, niño. It would be best to respect that and forget this part of the conversation ever happened, or it will be an awkward month of training.”

He immediately loses the smirk, stepping backward and raising his hands placatingly, apologetic, “¡Lo siento! I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I assumed you were—well, it does not matter, I assumed you meant more, and that is my fault. Pero, I am not a kid–I am nineteen.”

You and the rest of the eavesdropping beverage cart crew all gasp, abhorred at just how young he is. Does this mean you are all too old to be riding around serving drinks on a golf course?

“Nineteen?! What year were you born in? Never mind, don’t tell me—it’ll make me depressed. Look, niño, you’re forgiven—I could see how telling someone to show off their…assets, could be seen as flirting. So, I’m sorry, too. This is incredibly awkward, let’s never speak of this again?”

“Yes, I agree,” he nods vigorously, “But—Do you have to call me ‘niño?’”

“It fits, though? You are the youngest cart driver we have. Speaking of cart drivers—what’s your phone number? Lucas has to add you to the work chat.”

Your coworkers introduce themselves to Alejandro without hesitation. Conversation flows seamlessly as you all begin to catch up on what’s occurred in your lives since last summer. Rob’s sister-in-law exposed his older brother’s affair over Christmas Dinner, Sofia’s younger sister is pregnant with twins, and Lucas graduated with a degree in journalism. Midway through Ryan’s explanation of how his car was stolen three times in two months, the last two new hires shyly join your discussion. Laura and Giulia are training with Steph and Ryan, respectively. You and the other senior drivers begin to whine about old age when they reveal that they're nineteen, like Alejandro.

Isa catches a ride home with you and she asks if you're going to tell Carlos and Lando about how your trainee tried to make a move on you. You won’t tell them because there’s no reason to. Alejandro apologized and backed off—that’s all that matters to you. Why tell your boyfriends that the kid you’re going to be training tried to flirt with you? It won’t do anything more than make them jealous, probably, and that’s unnecessary.

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© httpsserene - do not repost.

[lovings4turn]

୭ 🗝️ ✧ ˚. 🪩 you’re my painkiller . . . (j.s.)

— your boyfriend apparently has zero regard for his own wellbeing. you, on the other hand, seem to have enough concern for you both (1.6k words)

+ aka the classic ‘patching up your injured s/o’ trope. brief mentions of injury and blood but nothing serious

+ also my first time writing any sort of nhl work so pls don’t be too too harsh ! a special shoutout to my lovely @wintfleur for all of the support and for listening to my various ramblings n complaints about this fic😭

juraj regrets nothing.

even now, sitting in the penalty box with a bust lip, he couldn’t care less. not about the player that he was swinging at two seconds ago, nor about how well the small cut on his face is going to heal. shit happens, after all.

though, no.

maybe there’s one small thought gnawing away at him, sitting persistent at the front of his brain and demanding his attention. it’s the knowledge that you’re sitting at home and have definitely just watched the whole ordeal unfold.

fuck, he thinks, taking a drink and pushing his hair back. cold water brushes against his split lip and he winces slightly, breathing still laboured from the exertion of both his play and his onslaught of hits onto the opposing team. you’re a worrier by nature, and juraj’s sure that whatever close up of his face that they’ve displayed on the broadcast has done nothing to quell your concern.

scraps happen all the time in hockey. it’s a fact that you were well aware of long before you’d even started dating juraj, and it would be ridiculous to expect him to never get caught up in a bit of a scuffle. if anything, it should be assumed. but this doesn’t mean you have to like the thought of it, either. 

no one likes to see their partner roughed up and bleeding, no matter how good they may or may not have looked whilst getting into said fight. especially not when you have to wait another two hours or so to see them again.

two minds intertwined, both you and juraj desperately wish you could have attended the game tonight so the distance between you could be a little smaller. he would find a way, some method of conveying to you that he was completely okay, and worrying was the last thing you needed to do. the dickhead deserved it, after all.

sadly, things can’t always work out the way that juraj wishes, and now he has to deal with the consequences. it’s a painful rest of the game, and his drive home is even more laborious. how he will find a way to quell your worry, to assure you he was fine, and that if anything, this method of getting out a little extra aggression was pretty healthy depending on who you asked, is beyond him. luck and charm is all he has on his side. 

turns out, all of his planning and preparation isn’t needed.

he doesn’t even have the chance to get a word out before you’re rushing over to him, a surprise yet fond oof escaping his bitten lips as you bury your face into his sturdy chest. large calloused hands find their way to sit at your waist, the fabric of your hoodie hiking up slightly to grant juraj’s fingertips access to your skin.

he’s granted a tight hug before you’re pulling back far too soon for his liking, your warmth lingering against his chest and tunnelling through his skin to reach his heart. juraj’s thumbs stroke at the exposed strip of your waist as he awaits your next move.

in an effort to reach his face, you push up onto your toes and juraj automatically stabilises you by tightening his grip on your waist. cautious to not hurt him, you cup his jaw with a gentle hand, the dusting of faint hair familiar against your skin. your thumb barely ghosts over the dried crack of blood sitting on his bottom lip, a place you’d pressed countless kisses in the past now marred by a mark of frustration.

with your furrowed brows and pouty lips, you look downright adorable to juraj as you survey his scrapes, which are arguably nothing in his eyes. he’d be lying if he were to say he wasn’t enjoying the way you were fussing over him, and he was a little amused at just how concerned you were over a few little cuts.

finally, your observation comes to an end.

“you’re an idiot,” you surmise, clicking your tongue softly as you fail to hold back a smile.

the blunt nature of your words takes him aback, and he barks out a laugh.

“it’s not bad.”

his voice is thick, accent heavy, and it takes a lot of effort for you not to swoon.

“there’s blood.”

he holds his hand up, pinching his pointer finger and thumb close together. “little bit.”

“still blood.”

his eyes are locked onto yours, and though you want to do nothing more than kiss him silly, the thought of causing him any more pain or discomfort is out of the question. all you can do is stare at one another, hoping your expression can convey far more than touch or words.

eventually, your hand leaves his jaw, and juraj finds himself having to stop his face tilting, wanting to follow the caress of your palm, to chase the warmth it gives him. the longing doesn’t last long as your hand finds his own, squeezing it in a show of love.

he doesn’t think twice as you lead him into the bathroom. your hands are on your hips as you huff out a breath, squinting slightly in a laboured effort to remember where exactly you stored the haphazard medical kit that was invented for moments exactly like this.

luck is on your side, as your guess of rooting through the cabinet underneath the sink proves to be successful. your fingers swipe through various medical products, and you pluck out some plasters and antiseptic, hoping that they would do the job.

juraj stands behind you like a lost puppy, half amused and half concerned at the speed at which you’re moving. he truly doesn’t think his injuries are anything to dwell on, but the way that you’re acting prompts him to think twice.

oblivious to his hovering, you plant your palms firmly onto the cold marble of the bathroom counter before you push yourself up, your new height bonus granting you easier access to the scrapes on juraj’s face. you pat your thighs and give him a smile.

“come here then, let’s get you patched up.”

juraj doesn’t need to be told twice. in two long strides he’s standing between your split legs, hands finding purchase on your thighs as you take a minute to properly assess the damage done to your boy’s face. truly, it could be far worse - you’ve seen players lose teeth in the past, after all - but you think you’ve earned the right to be a little dramatic.

“this might sting,” you warn, beginning to pour some of the antiseptic liquid onto a cotton ball. the strong scent causes your nose to scrunch and juraj can’t help but to press a kiss to the wrinkled skin, a silent communication of consent.

it hurts like a bitch. you murmur apologies throughout, cursing and wincing with him as you dab at the area around the wounds in an attempt to clean up as much of the blood as possible. it’s impressive, how efficiently you work, considering you’re not exactly well versed in cleaning up wounds. 

“what even happened?” you ask. “whole thing happened out of nowhere, from what i saw.”

juraj drums his fingers against your thighs, jaw clenched slightly as he distracts himself from the harsh sting of the antiseptic liquid. your question gives him something to think about, to focus on.

“eh, nothing really. was frustrated, he chirped me. next thing i know, we are fighting.”

you can’t help but laugh at his nonchalance, and your smile reflects onto his own face, the sun lending light to the moon. the motion stretches the gash on his bottom lip and he hisses a little, letting out an indignant sound as you swat at his curious hand.

the plasters you purchased are far too big for the small cuts along his lip and cheek, so you’re forced to slim them down slightly with a pair of rapidly acquired nail scissors, tongue poking from the corner of your lips. you delicately press the bandages to his injuries, smoothing over the fabric with a level of caution reserved for fine china or glass. 

evaluating your half-assed medical job, you move to cup juraj’s face once more and relish in the way that he steps closer to you. a hand swipes at his cheekbone, and you tsk slightly as your knuckles graze the mottled skin in an act of sympathy. “that’s definitely gonna bruise love.”

“eh, it will make me look tough,” he jokes, puffing out his already large frame even further. it’s impressive, you have to admit.

“don’t want you looking tough,” you huff. “want you looking okay. no matter how good you look when y’roughing someone up.”

though you’re joking, juraj senses the underlying worry in your tone, your mind wandering to the threat of him stumbling through your doorway in a far worse condition. 

“i’ll be more careful.” a promise.

“what am i gonna do with you, hm?” you tease.

your hands come to rest around his broad shoulders, and juraj slides you off of the counter, hands coming to support your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist. he carries you towards your bed like it’s nothing, laying you down gently before crawling next to you. he wastes no time in pulling you into his chest, your ear against his chest as the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls you into a calmer state.

“for now? cuddle me. all i need.”

“i’d love nothing more.”

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

He hit my phone with a horse, so I know that means 'come over and ride it.'

Situationship!Simon is a bad driver in general, but you somehow make him an even worse one *wink wink*

It always starts with a text,

"going out for drinks tonight"

He doesn't even say hi anymore. Just drops his location and waits. You take your sweet time getting ready, it's more for you than him. He'd probably lick the dirt off you if you rolled around in mud. So you make him wait. You like it; builds tension. He doesn't even drink, just lurks in a dark corner of the bar like he's fucking Batman or something.

You pull up to the bar, sit on the opposite end of wherever he is so he has a clear view of you. Then you order as many shots as you feel like taking that night. Taking as long as you want, talking to whoever you want. Guys always walk up and try to flirt with you. You always flirt back facetiously while looking Simon right in the eyes, sharing a knowing smirk. He likes this. Watching these men miserably fail to impress you, eventually they turn to see whatever is keeping your attention and leave as soon as they lay their eyes on Simon. Their faces pale and tails tucked between their legs. You text him when you're ready to leave. He always pays the tab.

Next thing you know, his thick dick is down your throat while he drives. One hand on the wheel, the other holding your hair back. Sometimes he drives down roads he knows have speed bumps or potholes just to hear you gag. Puts a smile on his face.

"Good girl."

The wetter his dick gets, the more erratic his driving gets. Running lights when there's no one at the intersection. Speeding to take you to his place. Just like any bad driver, he doesn't miss his turns. Instead he opts to jerk the wheel to drift corners at ridiculous speeds.

"Careful with the teeth love, hm?"

He warns before shoving your head down, making you choke on him as a penalty. When he does have to stop at a light because of traffic, he leans back on his headrest groaning.

"Shouldn't have got these windows tinted. Should have given all these people a show, yeah?

You moan in agreement. The vibrations from your throat make his dick jump, he grips your hair harder for a moment. Such a fun game between you two.

He always picks a different bar to meet up at so he can pick how far he is from his place. Sometimes it's five minutes out, sometimes twenty. Depends on how long he can wait to fuck you. One time he drove in a roundabout a good ten minutes just to tease you, make you work hard for his dick.

It always has the same happy ending, he gifts you with amazing dick and a hot load inside you.

"Fuckin perfect little thing for me, huh? Such a well behaved doll."

He huffs while holding you. You always get the best sleep in his arms afterwards.

[liver-f4ilure]

The Charleston Church Shooting: Dylann Roof

*NOTE! This is a repost! And it will look familiar CAUSE IVE POSTED IT ON ANOTHER ACCOUNT!! Is it the best? No.*

—

Early life/ Prior convictions

Dylann was born April 3rd 1994 to mother Amelia and father Franklin with 2 sisters Amber and Morgan. During early childhood his parents would divorce and his father would later remarry. His stepmother accused his father of abuse. He would beg his step mother to let him live with her but she wasn’t able to. Dylann would be described to have obsessive compulsive tendencies with germs. In middle school he would stop caring about school and started smoking weed and drinking vodka. In nine years he would have attended seven schools. In 2010 he would drop out of Highschool and continue playing video games and smoking weed and drinking.

(The Roofs home)

In 2015 he was caught with an invalid prescription for suboxone at a mall to which he was banned from for a year. Later that year he was caught loitering in the mall to which they searched his car finding a forearm grip for a AR-15 semiautomatic rifle and six unloaded magazines capable of holding 40 rounds each but was let off it was legal in the state. Roofs Suboxone charge was mishandled and a system error took it as a misdemeanour instead of a felony. Which would have possibly prohibited him from purchasing the firearm.

(The flag of Rhodesia)

Later Dylann would look into the Trayvon Martin case and from an unknown article concluded Zimmerman was in the right. He then fell down a rabbit hole of black on white crime and misinformation. He then found 4chan and would find even more misinformation and hard right ideologies Dylann states he hasn’t been the same since that day. Which leads to his manifesto titled ‘The last Rhodesian’ Rhodesia being the African state founded in 1965 ran by primary Europeans and a white supremacy ideology before being abolished in 1979. The term now sticks with white supremac!sts like Dylann had became, as he also used the flag on his jacket. In preparation before the attack he looked up black churches and found the Emanuel Methodist Episcopal Church and would scout the area and ask around about mass times.

The shooting

(The Emanuel Methodist Episcopal Church)

June 15th 2015 somewhere around 8:00pm Dylann entered the church, once he did he was greeted by Rev.Pinckney and given a bible to study with. Roof was sat next to Pinckney as the study continued. As the study closed and the ending pray started Roof stood up and pulled out his Glock 41 .45 calibre handgun and began shooting. Killing Pinckney first. Then 26 year old Tywanza Sanders stood up to plead with Dylann before he said ‘I have to do it. You rape our women and you’re taking over our country and you have to go’ he then shot and k!lled Sharonda Singleton, Dr. Daniel L. Simmons, Ethel Lee Lance, Cynthia Hurd, Myra Tompson and Tywanza Sanders. Dylann would reload 5 times that day. Polly Shepherd was spared when he asked her if he shot her yet to which she replied no he then told her ‘good cause we need someone to survive because I’m gonna shoot myself and you’ll be the only survivor. He then turned the gun on himself realizing he was out of ammo. He then left the church to the surprise there wasn’t anyone outside. The next day the police confirmed the gunman was 21 year old Dylann Roof with witnesses reporting they saw him drive towards Shelby, a town close to Charleston. At 10:44am Roof was arrested at a traffic stop in Shelby where it was then confirmed he worked alone.

(The victims)

The Trial

Five days after the shooting the grand jury announced that Roof was being indicted for 33 federal charges.

12 counts hate crime against black people

12 counts obstructing the exercise of religion

9 counts murder using a firearm.

On June 6th Roof reportedly did not want to be trialed by jury and instead let the judge decide if he was guilty and if the death penalty was reasonable. August 23rd Roofs lawyers called the motion of death penalty unconstitutional and asked to reject the motion. On September 1st an on camera hearing was held in case of outbursts. December 7th 2016 the trial started. During a survivor statement Roofs mom collapsed as she had a heart attack. After 3 days of the trial FBI played a video on which he admitted to laughing and drinking while describing to friends how he’d shoot the church. To which his friend didn’t report to police and said he was drunk and took his keys and Glock that was on him. After 2 hours the jury found him guilty on all 33 charges. Roof wanting to plead guilty but told not to by lawyers.

(Roof at his video hearing)

January 10th 2017 Roof was sentenced to the death penalty,death by lethal injection.

[org4n-failur3]

The Dylann Roof case- In Depth

I DO NOT SUPPORT. THIS IS INFORMATIONAL!

Pls reblog incase I get trmed!

Dylann was born April 3rd 1994 to mother Amelia and father Franklin with 2 sisters Amber and Morgan. During early childhood his parents would divorce and his father would later remarry. His stepmother accused his father of abüse. He would beg his step mother to let him live with her but she wasn’t able to. Dylann would be described to have obsessive compulsive tendencies with germs. In middle school he would stop caring about school and started smoking weed and drinking vodka. In nine years he would have attended seven schools. In 2010 he would drop out of Highschool and continue playing video games and smoking weed and drinking.

In 2015 he was caught with an invalid prescription for suboxone at a mall to which he was banned from for a year. Later that year he was caught loitering in the mall to which they searched his car finding a forearm grip for a AR-15 semiautomatic rifle and six unloaded magazines capable of holding 40 rounds each but was let off it was legal in the state. Roofs Suboxone charge was mishandled and a system error took it as a misdemeanour instead of a felony. Which would have possibly prohibited him from purchasing the firearm.

Later Dylann would look into the Trayvon Martin case and from an unknown article concluded Zimmerman was in the right. He then fell down a rabbit hole of black on white crime and misinformation. He then found 4chan and would find even more misinformation and hard right ideologies Dylann states he hasn’t been the same since that day. Which leads to his manifesto titled ‘The last Rhodesian’ Rhodesia being the African state founded in 1965 ran by primary Europeans and a white supr3macy ideology before being abolished in 1979. The term now sticks with white supremac!sts like Dylann had became, as he also used the flag on his jacket. In preparation before the attack he looked up black churches and found the Emanuel Methodist Episcopal Church and would scout the area and ask around about mass times.

June 15th 2015 somewhere around 8:00pm Dylann entered the church, once he did he was greeted by Rev.Pinckney and given a bible to study with. Roof was sat next to Pinckney as the study continued. As the study closed and the ending pray started Roof stood up and pulled out his Gl0ck 41 .45 calibre handgûn and began sh00ting. Killing Pinckney first. Then 26 year old Tywanza Sanders stood up to plead with Dylann before he said ‘I have to do it. You r4p3 our women and you’re taking over our country and you have to go’ he then wh0re and k!lled Sharonda Singleton, Dr. Daniel L. Simmons, Ethel Lee Lance, Cynthia Hurd, Myra Tompson and Tywanza Sanders. Dylann would reload 5 times that day. Polly Shepherd was spared when he asked her if he shot her yet to which she replied no he then told her ‘good cause we need someone to survive because I’m gonna sh00t myself and you’ll be the only survivor. He then turned the gûn on himself realizing he was out of ammo. He then left the church to the surprise there wasn’t anyone outside. The next day the police confirmed the gûnman was 21 year old Dylann Roof with witnesses reporting they saw him drive towards Shelby, a town close to Charleston. At 10:44am Roof was arrested at a traffic stop in Shelby where it was then confirmed he worked alone.

Five days after the sh00ting the grand jury announced that Roof was being indicted for 33 federal charges.

12 counts hate crime against black people

12 counts obstructing the exercise of religion

9 counts mûrd3r using a firearm.

On June 6th Roof reportedly did not want to be trialed by jury and instead let the judge decide if he was guilty and if the d3ath penalty was reasonable. August 23rd Roofs lawyers called the motion of d3ath penalty unconstitutional and asked to reject the motion. On September 1st an on camera hearing was held in case of outbursts. December 7th 2016 the trial started. During a survivor statement Roofs mom collapsed as she had a heart attack. After 3 days of the trial FBI played a video on which he admitted to laughing and drinking while describing to friends how he’d sh00t the church. To which his friend didn’t report to police and said he was drunk and took his keys and gl0ck that was on him. After 2 hours the jury found him guilty on all 33 charges. Roof wanting to plead guilty but told not to by lawyers.

January 10th 2027 Roof was sentenced to d3ath penalty, and d3ath by lethal injection.

-

NOTE: if I get anything wrong please tell me! This was from an old project I had.

-Vivi

[verstakult]

qatar gp 2024: penalties and safety cars galore indeed. here is an attempted compilation of all the notable incidents and penalties (+ penalty points) that fia threw around like free cookies

im attempting this in a chronological order following the issuance of the penalties but. they were so many things happening so whatever we ball. and as always thank you my fantastic f1 mother @missed-apexes

so first of all. we all know of the max one position grid penalty (+1 pp) but of course, he beautifully overtook george right off in turn 1! love that for him

first crash, esteban, franco, and nico collision. franco and esteban were out, nico slightly damaged (?)

first penalty issued in the race: alex & lance collision. stroll retires eventually, while getting a 10s penalty. he might serve this next race?

lewis hamilton had a false start. 5s penalty.

bottas and lawson near-collision(?). apparently liam understeered/spun and bottas had to go wide to avoid. liam gets 10s penalty (+2 pp).

insert zhou's very magnificent overtaking yuki!

george was consistently on p2 and pitted but was fucked over by his 7s pit stop. rest in rip.

alex's wing mirror fell on the track. the shot of the singular mirror lying there on the track was comical but the delay of sc or any actions taken about it is insane even the commentators were confused

bottas drove over the wing mirror, got damage. the debris fluttered all over the track and caused puncture to lewis and sainz.

safety car for the debris was finally deployed 4 LAPS LATE (wtf race control)

perez lost drive, dropped to the last from what i remember was p5-6, and retired. not sure if this was during or after the safety car ended.

nico hulkenberg also out. his tyres just. gave out and he spun. at this point survival is optional in the qatar gp.

another safety car here. perez riding the scooter can be seen

lando not lifting during double waved yellow flags on the straights (this happened before the sc was deployed for the debris). 10s stop/go penalty (+3 pp). this was a massive gamechanger for the podium as he was stable on p2. and a stop/go specifically... well, as a mclaren hater i rejoiced. (3 penalty points is crazy though)

another collision for alex, with k-mag this time. 10s penalty (+2 pp) for alex.

lewis apparently did a lil speeding in the pitlane. drive-through penalty.

lewis was told to retire the car but ignored it.

george did a sc infringement (which i did not see so im not sure what exactly happened). a fia update stated his car was more than 20 car lengths behind, when it is supposed to be 10. 5s penalty (+1 pp).

DRIVER OF THE DAY: ZHOU GUANYU (P8) im so happy for him. literally carried kick's points this season (4 points).

podium result: max p1, charles p2, oscar p3, and it's insane charles did all that without drinking because his drinking system broke. forza ferrari.

charles is now only 8 points behind norris in the wdc!

birth of gax/rustappen beef ;

outside race bonus: max being extremely pissed at george, saying he's lost all respect for him and can't stand him because "he's always acting polite in front of cameras but inside there he's a completely different person." gax beef in 2024... interesting.

edit: addition on the last point as requested by oomf, in the press conference max stated that george was trying all he can to screw max over and pushing for the penalty. max kept trying to explain he has no motives to screw other cars over, and he's going slow following other cars' slow laps, but it felt like talking to a wall. basically, max called george a fake two-faced bitch (he didn't say this but you know what i mean) and lost all respect to him.

funny to note that this is max's 63rd win.

it is also worth noting that before the race, max had told george on the drivers parade holding room, something along the lines of "hope you and your fia mates are happy with what you've done." and according to ted the quote was actually much ruder. POP OFF

max has unfollowed george on instagram nevermind folks apparently max never followed him

stats summary ;

5 dnfs

8 penalties (incl. max's)

3 safety cars

4 collisions

9 penalty points issued (incl. max's)

1 beef

fia really said fuck your british bias allegations and went on rage mode. what the hell lmao. also shoutout to williams mechanics. you all deserve so much bonuses.

(will update more once fia docs start rolling in).

[keelt9]

Chapter 3

Masterlist

“It was worth it, right?” Lewis looked right to my eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

“The best.” I mumble while taking the last bite of profiterole.

His urgency was because one of the guys on his team bought a freshly baked profiterole, one of my favorite desserts of the world.

Lewis smiles and tosses my hair. “Keep enjoying, I must prepare for the race.” 

I nod watching him go down stairs with Rosa by his side, not before taking another one, wink her eye at me. 

After all the protocol ceremony I go to the garage to see Lewis getting in the car and like a manntra ask him please drive safe. As I walk inside I keep greeting the members of the team who are fully focused on their task but smile at me as I walk to the zone where you can stay until the car comes out of the garage.

I see my brother get into the car and receive the last indications from his team, the strong sound of the car announcing he’s ready to take position, he raises his hands, thumbs up. He knows I’m right there.

“Be safe.” I whisper to myself watching him go behind George.

The 4th place is still far from his goal but for the way he enters the garage he’s more satisfied with his performance this time; he remains talking with his team for a couple of moments more than usual, coming out with a smile on his face along with Bono.

“Are you ok?” I ask as he hugs me, Bono nods still I wait for my brother's answer.

With a deep breath he just said. “I’m getting better, slowly but better.”

By the end of the day, he looks relaxed as he keeps talking with Bottas at the beginning of the hospital area.

“What do you say kid?” Bottas asked; they already set plans about going out for drinks, bringing me flashbacks, putting a smile on my face.

“Oh, I love to, but I’m afraid I'm too young to talk about my physical discomfort for my age.” They laughs even Lewis push me a little bit. “Go, have fun, you deserve it.”

“Y/N, found friends in Italy.” Lewis interprets the excitement of Bottas and makes himself more clear. “No, any of the grid, she found an old friend from the collage here.” 

I wave my hand to Yuki who is already leaving the paddock with his team. “I thought you were closer to the young people around here.” Bottas smirk as we walk to the exit.

“A few, just a few.” My eyes stop in a beautiful tiny dog, who is carried by  Alexandra “Hi, young…?” I start to pet his head.

“Boy. Leo, his name is Leo.” She and Charles seem ready to go, too.

“Very charming, I must say.” Leo moves his tail as I rub his head. “Have you met Roscoe?” 

Charles sigh. “We tried but until he came to his first race we didn’t even know Roscoe doesn’t travel that far.” 

“Oh, he will be in Monaco, we can introduce them, right?” I turn around to see my brother who nods softly.

“You’re his manager, I’m at your orders.” Everyone giggles as I click my tongue.

“We'll leave you, have a good night.” They say goodbye before I look down. 

“Young boy, it's a pleasure.” The couple laughed and walked away carrying him.

As Lewis and Bottas were about to walk to one car, Lewis let me take the car which drove him to the paddock for take me to restaurant where I’m meet my friend Donna, our eyes crossed in the Red Bull crew walking with long and heavy steps immerse in a serious talk for the poker face of each one of them.

“The stewarts?” Bottas drops the question to the air, as I look at him.

Lewis opens the door for me to get inside. “I heard about a penalty.” 

“Mad max back for the night?” Lewis giggles before kissing my cheek and saying goodbye to me. “Have fun kid.” Bottas said, waving his hand.

I read and knew about the nickname Max wins in his early years on the F1, but I thought it was a rumor, but maybe it’s not.

“Miss. Hamilton, do you learn something new?” John, Lewis driver asked as I took my coat and laid back in the seat.

I fake a shiver. “We could say so.” He saw me through the rearview mirror. “Drivers could be such a problem, huh?”

John chuckled and said. “Only if you choose wrong.” He stops at a red light. “If you share your time with nice people, no, they have such a good heart. On the other hand, spending your time with controversial…boys, yes, it will be a dangerous move.” 

Such deep words for a 4 pm talk. I take a deep breath as I see the text of my phone, Donna is already in the restaurant. When we arrived I thanked him but he choked his head. 

"For the advice.” He smiles and nods with courtesy.

“Have a good day, Miss Hamilton.” 

Around 5 am I arrived at the hotel, falling asleep on the couch. An early morning text  for Lewis wakes me up, he waits for me in the buffet of the hotel, for siblings day. 

As soon as I got inside of the buffet, I knew. First thing first, I need a juice like every morning. A few people  on the juice station decide which one should be drinking, even Max seems to have a difficult time seeing the different colors, but I have my favorite.

I grabbed a glass, with the firm intention of just saying hi, if it's absolutely needed, I poured a mixture between orange and beetroot, the last one at the other side of the table.

“It seems orange juice is the favorite one.” Max said as I turned at my side trying to figure out if that clumsy comment it’s for someone else, the boy who remained there left a few seconds before.

I guess it’s for me. “I like the classics.” 

“Hi Max, trying to recover your energy early in the morning?” Lewis appears next me kissing the top of my head and smirk on his face.

“I need to be in my best shape.” I look at Lewis trying to figure out if the answer only gives me chills, but he is already looking out of the corner of his eye.

“Righ, right, amm, you seem a little bit nervous, you need…” Max scoffs but he clears his throat.

“Nervous? No, no at all.” Even though he tried, it's clear he felt uncomfortable with us.

“Why is he nervous?” My question makes Lewis smile, only getting me more confused every second.

He grabs a glass too pouting orange juice. “Oh it’s nothing little H. It’s just that I don't used to seeing Max shutter about juice. He looks a little bit out of balance.” 

Max chuckled and still kept answering him back. “I’m not that specialist on juices, out of my comfort zone.”

“Don’t worry man. It’s juice and… unexpected company, early morning.” Lewis put his hand around my shoulders.

“Don’t worry Max, it’s only juice and my brother being a pain in the ass.” I jostle Lewis, making him laugh. “I’ll go for pancakes, see you around.” 

Lewis said goodbye following me with that smile and head down, going to pick his breakfast. We decided to sit outside enjoying the morning sun.

“It isn’t only juice.” Lewis said, taking out his sunglasses and taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Oh come on Lew, it’s so cute!” Lewis and I entered the hotel late that day, ready to pack our bags to go to London. 

Lewis kept observing the harness I bought for Roscoe, yellow with tiny watermelons all over it, of course the LH at one side and his name at the other. 

“He will look…” I covered his mouth before he said anything else. 

“Like a rockstar.” We see each other and laugh. The image of Roscoe wearing that as eats a watermelon, his favorite food, it’s hilarious. 

“It's been a long time since I didn't see this picture.” Bono is walking to us with a bag in his hands, ready to go home.

“Going home?” I ask him, knowing he has to do a quick stop in Brixworth.

He bluff. “I wish. I guess I will see you in two weeks and our good-luck charm, right?”

Lewis nods. “An urgent backup.” Bono shakes his head with a smile on his face before saying goodbye.

Our parents received us like when we were kids, a big hug at the door and something sweet to eat; now two dogs running to us barking and running around us.

Lewis will leave in two days; being a driver and fashion icon it's hard work, on the other hand I leave Thursday morning with Roscoe to Monaco, spending a few days there and doing a purification of my things.

“This is nice, darling.” Dad pointed to the jacket Lewis bought me in Italy. “A new type of style but you look great.” 

“See? I have the finest eye.” Lewis appears with a ball in his hand and a happy Roscoe looking for a snack.

I put it in the bag one more time, giving Roscoe a piece of radish. “Where is Jewel?” 

“She gets tired after 10 minutes and runs with mom for his night walk.” Lewis points out mom and Jewel walking around the garden, a peaceful walk.

“Are you coming to Monaco, dad?” Lewis asks but my father looks at him rolling his eyes, like if Lewis asked the most obvious thing in the world, making us laugh. “Just to be sure.” 

It’s my second day of an exhaustive purification of my things, what a few months ago were 5 boxes now, slowly it’s turning in 3, and any extra suitcase.

The sound of Roscoe scratching a box distracts me from washing the dishes of the dinner.

I walk where he is. “What did you find, baby?” I opened the box to see inside a few of his toys which I didn’t buy for him. “I wasn’t that good at packing.”

Roscoe sits next to me waiting to take out a toy and give it to him. I take one, a rabbit who Caleb, my ex-fiance knew will love it; but immediately put it inside and close the lids of the box.

“Lets this be for the refuge all right? I’ll buy you new ones tomorrow.” I grab his face and give him a peck on the top of bit. “I promise.”

I grab the box and put it inside of the wardrobe of the room Lewis chose for me, away from my view, where the memories are far away.

Next morning as I promise; after breakfast Roscoe and I go for new toys. He carefully smells and touches everyone who calls for his attention. After going down to the store, he chooses 3, a ball, a frisbee and a fluffy toy that looks like a lion. 

We take a break in the park as we watch people come and go; he even plays with some dogs who come closer to us but refuse to go more than 1 meter away from me.

“Let’s go boy, time to go home.” I put his leash on one more time.

After 10 minutes of walking he decided it’s time to take another break because he sat in the middle of the pavement and refused to move.

“Come on boy! It’s just 3 more blocks.” But Roscoe pretends don’t hear me, putting a smile on my face. “Ok, at least can we sit on that bench.” 

Roscoe sees my finger pointing to the bench and walks there pulling me, he waits for me to sit and I carry him to put him at my side.

“Good boy.” He raised his eyes and sniffed my hand. “Definitely that harness is my best purchase in years.” 

I smile as he puts his head on my lap closing his eyes, yes, he needs a nap. I take out my phone for work a little bit.

Pass around 20 minutes when someone calls him. “Roscoe?” Well, not someone, Max called him.

He was in casual clothes and a small paper bag in his hand coming closer to us.

“Hi.” He pets Roscoe head smiling, Roscoe turns a little bit his head, sniffing his hand. “Yeah, I don’t think they let you eat this.” 

I raise my eyebrow. “Oh, it’s chocolate.” The sunglasses didn't help today.

“No, he doesn't.” Roscoe lay one more time on his head. It’s weird, Roscoe has seen Max many, many times but he ignores him like he is a stranger.

“Yeah, I’m not his favorite too.” He makes me smile, I get what he means. 

Roscoe licks his nose and sits, he’s ready to walk, I carefully put him in the ground giving me time to erase the smile on my face.

“Hey, am, I want to apologize for the other night.” Max takes his cap and scratches his head. “I…I… I wasn't thinking right.” 

“Well, you were drunk, that doesn’t help at all.” Max cheeks turn in a soft pink. “It’s all fine, no worries.” 

Roscoe starts to walk, pulling me softly, now he wants to leave. “See you Max.” 

“You want to go for an ice cream?” His invitation left me cold, and fixed on my spot. “I don’t want the first impression to keep being that…that awful.” 

I turn around to find him with hand in his pockets. “It’s ok Max, I believe the juice station is taking the lead. Besides, Roscoe needs to rest properly, but I appreciate the invitation.” 

Roscoe pulls one more time, helping me to leave this awkward moment, Max giggles and nods. “Yeah, I… yeah, see you later, I guess.”

That night after giving the last touches to my monthly report I lay down on the settee, I saw the text of Lewis, he will arrive with our parents the day after tomorrow. 

I see Roscoe who is peacefully snoring in his bed, living the life; along his lion. 

“Maybe you could make a space for you.” I whisper to the fluffy toy.

Monaco Grand Prix, it’s one of their favorite circuits for a lot of pilots, Lewis isn’t the exception. My parents went with him from the first day I chose with Rosco to wait until race day, the best for the end. 

As always, Lewis arrived with Roscoe stealing glances, gasps and hearts of every person who crossed in his way.

We arrived 30 minutes before when all the drivers were already in the paddock getting ready.

Three hundredth behind Max, put Lewis in the second place of Monaco. It’s definitely a good race from him and all in the team knows it for the way they hug him and congratulate, our parents weren't the exception.

After the interview and ceremony finally the so expected encounter happened, Roscoe met Leo, full of energy and running one side to the other as Roscoe tried to follow his rhythm, pushing his ball to invite him to play.

The last photos set the end of the meeting. We split forLewis do what has to do and go to dinner with our parents. 

“Honey.” Dad grabs my arm. “Roscoe needs to go out.” He’s walking side to side sniffing. He needs to pee.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take him. I reached you in the car.” Dad nods as I call for him to go outside.

As soon as he finished his task, Roscoe took his time to go back as walking around the green grass until we found Max, still race suit on, but he looked awfully tired, not the face of a winner.

I heard about the rumors about a few reporters misunderstanding, probably on purpose a few of Max's answers but I never imagined that kind of things affecting him.

Roscoe reads my mind as we walk closer to him and just sit next to him, not saying anything.

“A chocolate?” I extend a bar of chocolate I take from the hospitality. 

Max doubts and rejects it just turning away. “Are you mad or something?” 

He didn't answer, feeling Roscoe eyes on me I shake my head, signs that I tried but Max is definitely hard to read. I stand up reading to walk away, telling myself I never learn.

“It's supposed to be easier, nothing changes, new year, but it's the same how people twisted my words, I mean I expect that but, sometimes big races are covered for a stupid comments.” Max says out of the blue, still he isn't looking at me, he is just starting at the grass. “From time to time I feel tired, that's all. I can't have everything under control even if I try hard.”

“You can’t.” I take a deep breath. “I’m not trying to give you advice or anything like that, just…” One more time I sat next to him. “I know what it feels like a big day turns into shit. But you can control some things.” 

He bluffs but let me keep speaking. “You, how you react, what do you say and bloody hell, how you give a shit and enjoy your victories.”

I turn around and for the first time I see right to his eyes, a dazzling blue color with a soft touch of gray. 

“So, go, have fun, let the people keep speaking, it’s the best thing they ever do, but don’t let that screw your day, you don’t deserve that.” Max laugh softly. “You’re in your home after all, if you “don't get drunk”, I bet there are so many people here that need to be protected.” His face turns red and I smile at him, even Roscoe sits in front of him, looking for a pet in his head, which Max softly scratches a little bit.

My phone buzzes on my hand as I see the name and photo of Lewis on the screen, they probably are on their way to the car. 

“What?” Lewis scoffs but I know he’s smiling. 

“Bring my boy here, we’re leaving.” An expression of pain comes from him too, the sign of mom probably pinch him slightly.

“On my way boss.” I hung out and didn't even give him a chance to replay.

I stand shaking all the grass could be stuck to my jeans. “Let’s go boy, we need to go.”

Roscoe stands and waits for me to put his leash on, Max stands too. “Thanks.” 

I shake my head, it’s not a big deal, but I smile at him as we walk away but my conscience about, I know, maybe, just maybe I’ve been rude with him makes me wait.

“Am, hey Max, I don’t like ice cream but if you find something else, I gladly accept your invitation.” Max opened his mouth but nothing came out of it, making me giggle before finally going.

Roscoe and I found Rosa chatting with a few people from the Mercedes crew, she asked them for a minute and walked to us to say goodbye.

“I’ll see you, until the race right?” Barcelona is next but I have a few things to do in London and Newport. 

“Yes, you do.” She pets the head of Roscoe and kisses my cheek before leaving. 

As we cross the exit the few people who stay there unconnected to the teams start to leave too, Monaco GP is officially over.

“Y/N!” Max running to the entrances makes Roscoe barks. “Do you mean it?” 

I choke my head and bluff, of course I talk seriously in my speech. “The invitation, do you mean it?”

[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

Flash, Flirt, Fuck

Fandom: Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba

Rating: Mature/Explicit - Minors DNI (18+ only)

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Sanemi/Reader

Tags: College AU, flashing you classmate, oral sex, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, spin-the-bottle, truth or dare, light banter, AFAB reader, mildly dubious consent (due to alcohol), wingman Makio, switch reader

Wordcount: 3.4k

Flash your crush or eat your friend's potentially hazardous takeout leftovers? The dare is a no-brainer, even if your crush happens to have permanent resting bitch face and has made a few of the college freshmen almost piss themselves in fear. You know he's not all hard edges, so what's the harm?

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

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

“I dare you to flash Sanemi,” Makio slurred, the four drinks she’d slammed starting to affect her speech.

You laughed, taking a sip of your spiked lemonade- the only alcoholic drink you could handle as the lightweight of your college group. You were barely on your second and already feeling quite the buzz; chest light and a weightlessness to your limbs that would turn to lead once the booze began to wear off.

“You want me to walk all the way to the boy’s hall to flash Sanemi? The resident hardass?”

Makio grinned, bringing the amber bottle to her lips and keeping eye contact while she took a deep pull. It was always astonishing to watch her retain most of her fine motor skills even when sloshed to high heaven while you would fail a drunk driving test sober.  You’d already missed your mouth once, resulting in a rapidly drying spot on your shirt that still smelled like booze.

“You gonna take the penalty instead?”

“Ew, no,” you waved your hand, cringing at the idea of having to eat whatever leftover (and probably moldy) food was stuffed in the back of Suma’s fridge. The girl had a habit of forgetting takeout and growing new strains of bacteria that should probably be classified as hazardous waste and disposed of as such. “I like my life, thank you.”

“It’s not that bad!” Suma sipped her drink, lip wobbling. “I cleaned it out last month. You guys are so meaaaaan!”

“Get going, then,” Shinobu waved you off, smiling lazily and swirling the glass of wine she was nursing. “And one of us will tail you to make sure you don’t chicken out.”

“I’m glad you all will be enjoying this,” you stood, almost toppling over as the floor swayed. “Because I’m 100% sure I’ll be getting chewed out for flashing my tits instead of the thanks I deserve for blessing him with this view.”

“You can cry yourself to sleep later,” Makio called after you, laughter from the large group echoing behind you, a stupid, drunk smile still on your face.

The boy’s hall was one floor down, and you didn’t trust yourself on the stairs, so you had to wait for the elevator. Heat rolled off your skin from the warmth of the room you’d just left- it had been near suffocating with the bodies of all your friends pressed together in a game of Spin-the-Bottle. The suggestion had come from Mitsuri, and the rest of you agreed, eager for some fun and laughs. The dares had started off simple, as had the truths, devolving into more debauched and crazy requests as the alcohol hit everybody’s systems.

The elevator doors finally opened, and you entered, mashing the button for the floor below yours while leaning against the wall languidly.

It was Hinatsuru who’d actually gotten you into this predicament, if you really thought about it. The conversation had turned to the boy’s hall earlier on in the game, around the time you’d chosen truth on your turn.

“Fuck, marry, kill,” Hinatsuru said. “With Tengen, Sanemi, and Kyojuro.”

Your answer had surprised everyone, leaving mouths agape around the entire circle when you chose to off the infamous lady-killer Tengen, marry the college heart-throb Kyojuro, and fuck Sanemi Shinazugawa. No explanation was provided in the following uproar, but you hadn’t been so drunk as to miss the devious sparkle that lit in Makio’s eyes. She’d been waiting for you to choose “dare” and pounced the moment the words had left your lips.

Now you were stumbling down the hall, counting doors until you reached room 413. You paused for a fraction of a second, wondering if you should think through the all the possibly embarrassing outcomes, but didn’t let the hesitation sway your resolve. Rapping on the door, you tucked a stray hair behind your ear. A few moments passed and you wondered if maybe Sanemi was out, and you wouldn’t have to complete the dare. Maybe you’d get a pass (and also wouldn’t have to consume any of the potentially fatal food from Suma’s fridge).

The universe had other plans, however, as the door opened to reveal a scowling white-haired man. The black sweats he wore hung low on his hips, a white undershirt clinging to his torso and leaving his shoulder bare. The jagged scars across his entire body did nothing to hinder the butterflies starting to dance in your gut at the sight of him.

He’d been your crush since you started school, and until tonight you’d hidden it pretty well.  Almost everyone thought he was a grumpy asshole (which he could be sometimes), and you’d even been half-frightened to death the first time you’d seen him, his sharp voice making your heart stutter in fear, but the trepidation quickly faded as you watched him interact with faculty and some of the younger students. He was respectful, if blunt, and even if he was a bit harsh on the new kids, he went out of his way to make sure they got to the right classes. You’d caught the tail end of his conversation with what you assumed was his younger brother a few weeks back that solidified your perception of him to be correct: he was a big softie underneath that prickly exterior.

It also didn’t hurt that Sanemi was gorgeous to look at. He obviously took good care of himself, and had stunning features: lavender eyes, white hair, and long lashes. He wasn’t as tall as some of the other guys in school, like Tengen, but you didn’t give a flying fuck when his body looked like that and his voice had that raspy growl when he spoke.

“What do you want?”

The flat tone broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality where Sanemi stood with his arms crossed and a bored look on his face. As much as you felt like throwing up from the way your nerves were turning the butterflies in your stomach into poisonous slugs, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and flipped it up. The cool air of the hall raised gooseflesh on your stomach and tits, and you almost shivered.

The look on Sanemi’s face went from blank, to confused, to alarmed in less than a second, and you wished you could have recorded it to watch later. You dropped your top back down, tilted your head with a coy smirk, and clasped your hands behind your back as you took a step back, turning on your heel to head back to your friends without a word, dare complete.

“What the hell-”

A hand encircled your wrist and you paused, looking back at Sanemi.

“Yeah?”

Sanemi looked lost, an expression you hadn’t expected to see on his face after your little display. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the faintest blush dusting his ears and the high point of his cheek bones.

“What was that for?” he demanded, finally finding his voice.

“A dare,” you shrugged, answering before your brain caught up with your mouth.

He let go of your hand, straightening and recovering his usual pissy frown. You stayed rooted to where you were, staring at him with a curious gaze.

“Just a dare? Not… ‘cause you wanted to?”

He sounded borderline petulant if your ears were hearing things right. You kicked aside your nerves to step closer, meeting his eyes and getting uncomfortably close to him.

“Can’t it be both?”

He swallowed, eyes flickering down to your parted lips.

“Is… it?”

You lidded your eyes, grinning up at him, a breath away from his face. His own eyes were starting to grow a bit hazy with want, sending a thrill through you.

“Why don’t you use some context clues?”

“Why don’t you spell it out for me?” he countered, hands coming up to rest gently on your hips.

You caught your lip between your teeth, sliding your fingers under the edges of the narrow white straps of his tank top and tugging him closer.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Sanemi’s arms were around you before you realized it, and your world was literally turned on its head as he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. A doorframe passed your view, and the creak and slam let you know that you were inside his room before he threw you onto the bed, eyes filled with lust.

“Say the word,” he caged you in with his arms. “And I’ll stop.”

“What do I say to make you keep going?” you asked playfully, sliding your hands down his chest.

Sanemi made a noise in his throat, surging forward to capture your lips with his. His tongue danced along your teeth and you nipped at his lower lip, wrapping your arms around his neck. Sage green covers crumpled under your back as you writhed under the feeling of his thumbs rubbing circles just above your hip bones.

“I didn’t get a good look at these earlier,” Sanemi pulled back breathlessly, hooking his fingers under your shirt and lifting it to your chin. “Open.”

You obeyed, and Sanemi stuffed the hem of your top into your mouth, making you hold it up while he dropped to lavish your breasts with attention. One calloused thumb pad brushed over the pebbled nub, sending sparks throughout your body, whimpers escaping around the fabric clenched in your teeth. His tongue pressed against the other nipple, enveloping it in heat. You tried to draw your legs up, but Sanemi forced them apart with one knee, pressing into your crotch. You squirmed against it, trying to get friction, not caring if you looked desperate.

Sanemi pulled back, relieving you completely of your shirt as he tugged it over your head. Your mouth finally free, you propped yourself up on your elbows to chase his lips. He obliged you, letting the taste of his mouth fill yours, a hand dropping to trace your skin with blunt fingertips. Everything was heady from alcohol and lust, and you giggled against his touch. It was like a dream: you and Sanemi.

The hunger for more was quickly sinking its teeth into your stomach.

You pushed yourself up, forcing Sanemi’s compliant form back until he was sitting on his knees. Hands found their way to his waistband, and he assisted in removing the offending fabric. Hot, moist breath fanned over his erect member, one of his hands already buried in your hair. You pressed the flat of your tongue to the underside, licking up and reveling in the sharp intake of breath above you.

“Fuck,” Sanemi groaned.

You took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the dark pink head to hear those lovely noises that he tried desperately to hold back escape from his throat. Scarred hands had threaded through your hair and gripped tightly, controlling your movements. Spit dripped down the sides of his dick and clung at the corners of your mouth as Sanemi fucked your face, eyes locked on where his cock slipped in and out of your swollen lips.

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling you off of him after a particularly deep thrust that had left you gagging around him. “Are you-”

“Good,” you assured him, eyes half closed in contentment, flickering downwards as you caught your lips between your teeth.

“Lay down,” Sanemi instructed, an amused smile creeping onto his face as you scrambled to obey.

He moved to between your legs, a hand dropping to slide against the bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex. You whimpered, wriggling against his touch and clutching the sheets with both hands.

“Touch your tits,” Sanemi said. “Since you were so intent on showing off earlier.”

You flushed a deep ruddy color, hands hesitantly coming up to brush over your breasts as a sliver of embarrassment wormed its way into your brain. Sanemi watched your face, your own gaze obscured by lowered lashes and intent on staring at his hand moving at your core.

“Look at me,” he commanded, drawing your eyes to his. “Say my name.”

“S-Sanemi.”

Now that Sanemi was controlling the situation, you found yourself more nervous and unsure of yourself, not used to having the attention on you like this during sex: his smoldering intense gaze and demand for eye contact unsettled- but also thrilled- you.

“Again,” Sanemi pressed one finger against your entrance.

“Sanemi…” you swallowed, body tensing involuntarily.

“Relax,” he lowered himself down until his breath warmed your neck, pressing kisses against your throat. “Say it again.”

“Sanemi-”

Your voice pitched up at the end of his name as his finger plunged into you, velvet walls clenching at the intrusion. Sanemi swore under his breath, rolling his hips against the mattress in time with the slow thrusts of his finger inside of you, slowly pressing another in alongside it after a minute. Your whole body rippled and clenched, searching for more stimulation and touch, arms wrapping around Sanemi’s broad shoulders.

“More, please,” you whined into his hair.

“Already? You sure you’re ready?” Sanemi asked, lifting his head to look you in the eye.

You nodded, furrowing your brow and frowning. Sanemi tried to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips and cleared his throat to cover a laugh at your pout. His fingers withdrew from the warmth of your body, making you gasp. He readjusted, positioning himself at your entrance, and you could swear you saw his hands tremble from excitement.

“Fffffu-” Sanemi’s swear was cut off as you clenched around him.

As much as you tried to relax, the pressure between your legs made your body flex and tense. It wasn’t making Sanemi’s job any easier- although from the look on his face, you assumed it wasn’t exactly a bad thing.

“Shit, you’re so- fuck-”

The garbled praise stroked your ego. You wiggled your hips, feeling a bit of satisfaction when Sanemi grabbed them to keep you from moving, face turning pink as his mouth fell open.

“D-don’t do that. Give me a second.”

“Aww,” you crooned, teasing a bit. “Pussy too good?”

“Shut up,” he scowled (not a true scowl, you noted with delight) and pulled his hips back, snapping into you with a ferocity you didn’t expect. A gasp escaped your lips and your own cheeks pinked.

The pace was slow but steady; deep strokes dragging against your plush walls. Each time he plunged into you it felt like he pressed farther in, hitting deeper and deeper until you were sure he couldn’t get any more in your guts than he was, only to be proven wrong. You were breathless as each thrust forced the air from your lungs in a choked whimper, Sanemi’s hips bruising the back of your thighs with the amount of force he applied in retaliation for your teasing.

Your eyes threatened to roll back into your skull, mouth open in a silent cry, tits bouncing with each slap of skin.

“What’s the matter?” Sanemi taunted, throwing your words back into your face. “Dick too good?”

You whimpered a reply, digging your hands into the covers that had rucked up around your head from all the movement. The ridges of the ropy scars adorning his hips were quickly imprinting themselves into the skin of your backside from the harsh impact of each thrust. Sanemi’s pale skin had flushed across his chest and cheeks from the exertion, heat rolling off his figure in waves. A faint sheen of sweat covered both of your bodies, glittering in the low light of Sanemi’s bedside lamp as lewd sounds filled the air.

Your keens began to pitch upwards at the end as Sanemi adjusted the angle he fucked into you at, curling his body over yours and pressing his lips against your collarbone as you released the sheets to anchor your hands in his hair once again. Dark marks painted the column of your neck and along your decollete, purple and damp from Sanemi’s mouth. His hips stuttered against yours, movements starting to become frantic and erratic as your legs instinctively locked around his waist, drawing him closer. He snaked one hand down between the two of you, fumbling fingers flicking your clit with a marked lack of the earlier finesse he’d displayed.

You legs flexed, core winding tighter until a well-timed thrust had you spilling over the edge, his name tearing from your throat. The fluttering of your lush walls around him as you came was Sanemi’s undoing, his own orgasm ripping through him as he groaned your name in a hungry desperation, hips still rutting into you even as the bliss began to fade. It was as if he didn’t want it to end, pushing himself impossibly closer to you and locking his arms around your neck in an embrace as his body slowed to a standstill, half-crushing you under his weight.

“Stay for a bit?”

The faint request was mumbled breathlessly, almost inaudible. You cracked open your eyes, which had fluttered shut in ecstasy earlier. Sanemi was propped on his elbows, half-hovering over you. The tension rose again, something in his eyes melting your heart into a warm sludge that settled in your stomach.

The moment was shattered by a loud voice shouting just outside Sanemi’s door.

 “You have five seconds to become decent before I come in!”

Shinobu’s voice wasn’t hard to recognize, and your face went white. Sanemi threw his shirt at you, grabbing his pants and shoving both feet in, comically wiggling them on. His shirt was just long enough to cover up the important parts on you, even if your nipples were a bit visible through the thin material. The door flung open (Shinobu had granted you an extra second, which you were thankful for) to reveal the dark-haired woman standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding the door wide. The rest of your friends were accumulated behind her, peering around and over her shoulders in varying degrees of shock and delight at your compromising position.

Sanemi glanced between your embarrassed face and the group of girls blocking his door. You could see him put two and two together in his head.

“Did you all have to tail me?” you covered your red face with your hands.

“I take it I have one of them to thank for that dare?” Sanemi’s resting bitch face was back in action as he left the bed, striding over to the group.

“You’re welcome,” Makio raised her bottle in a lazy salute.

“I’ll send you a thank-you card later,” Sanemi took control of the door back from Shinobu. “In the meantime; I’d appreciate it if you’d stop clogging up the hall.”

“I can’t believe she’d rather fuck you than Tengen,” Makio shook her head, pushing off the wall.

“Tengen?” Sanemi raised a brow.

“She chose to kill Tengen in Fuck, Marry, Kill,” Suma offered. “And to Fuck you.”

“Suma!” you groaned. “Can you all just leave?”

Sanemi leaned lazily against the door.

“So is that why you dared her to fuck me?”

There was a chorus of laughter, none louder than Makio’s. Sanemi raised his brows, watching the woman doubled over in laughter.

“We never dared her to sleep with you,” Makio finally straightened, wheezing. “Just to flash her tits.”

The door slammed in their faces, Sanemi’s back to you as he locked it. You swallowed, hands holding the hem of his shirt down over your thighs as you sat in his bed. Sanemi’s shoulders heaved as if he was taking deep breaths.

“You… didn’t get dared to fuck me?”

Sanemi spun on his heel, in front of you before you realized it. His lavender eyes locked with yours. It took a second for you to notice the cocky smile playing on his lips.

“No, but I wanted to, though,” you wet your lips, eyes roving over Sanemi’s face. “Does it matter?”

His lips pulled back to reveal a full smile, something you’d never seen before. His hands came up to either side of your face. When his face was a fraction away from yours, he paused, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Hell-fucking-no,” he growled, surging forward to catch your mouth with his.

Outside the room and down the hall, the gaggle of girls waited at the elevator, voices not exactly quiet.

“Why did you make her flash Sanemi?” Mitsuri asked Makio. “You know he can be… rough around the edges. What if he’d… not been into it.”

Makio laughed.

“A little birdie told me Sanemi had a bit of a crush on a certain someone,” the blonde tossed her empty bottle into a trash receptacle. “And I had a perfect opportunity to play matchmaker. Why shouldn’t I?”

[dear-ao3]

What were your thoughts on what happened at the F1 in Vegas?

positively bonkers

literally so much to unpack but most notably

lewis hamiltons fits

all of the instagram admins having sphere time

dishonorable mention for whatever the mclaren tire strategy for oscar was

carlos having his disney prince moment coming ahead of both mercs after toto said he deserved the grid penalty

williams in q3?????

oscar driving with the insanity of lando in mexico

the charles overtake

whatever that whole monologue the announcers had during practice was about oceans 11 (that they got wrong)

the alpine french civil war on track

max verstappen ultimate insane arc saying he would burn it down if he was a fan, sending the fia his regards, hating the track, then winning and singing viva las vegas (is this man ok?)

honorable mention for the netflix cup

the fact that the grid flipped like 12 times

lance stroll ???? arirana what are you doing here!!!!

whatever was happening in the back of that rolls with charles max and checo

everyones interviews were unhinged this week but especially valtteri saying that he wouldn't bring any of the other drivers drinking with him because they would slow him down.

[classiccowboy]

instagram j.b.

summary: follow along with joe and his fiancé evie as the go through his football career.

*face claim is Yasmin Quintana*

series masterlist.

breezyevie

liked by nfl, bengals, joeyb_9, and 927,028 others

breezyevie: i’m proud of my joey, win or lose you’re my guy forever. until next season. ✌🏼

view all 7,359 comments…

user: those penalties at the end were BS!!

> breezyevie: you said it !!

user: you are cringe garbage

user: not you dyeing your hair before the biggest game of the year.

> breezyevie: maybe it was bad luck.

user: thank you for bringing such positivity to fan base

user: i love you and the bengies so much

> breezyevie: i love you!

joeyb_9: special season. thank you for being there, you rock ev. ❤️

> breezyevie: special guy. 🤍

user: i can’t believe that you’re joe b girlfriend

millyg: you’re cincy’s hero.

> breezyevie: you’re my hero.

joeyb_9

liked by nfl, bengals, and 1,739,927 others

joeyb_9: Back to work.

view all 98,626 comments…

user: keep shining joey, you’ll be back next year

user: now i can block evie till next season, i only follow for you.

breezyevie: you are the most inspiring and dedicated person i know. i’m obsessed with you.

> user: girl we know. get a life.

user: i’m calling it now they go undefeated next season

user: we will be back. WHO DEY!!!

user: this had me tearing up

> breezyevie: i’ve cried so much. just let it out.

user: does this mean that ur cringy gf won’t be posting you anymore?

> user: y’all love to hate on a girl for living her life.

breezyevie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and 920,736 others

breezyevie: life update for you stalkers. 🤪

view all 9,826 comments…

user: gross

user: that drink looks so good

> breezyevie: it was amazing!!

millyg: i still can believe i wasn’t invited

> breezyevie: don’t hate me. 😅

user: clout chaser

user: you’re my idol

> breezyevie: stop, my heart will explode. 🤍🤍🤍

user: imagine joe b is ur man?

> user: and she’s so average..

user: i already can’t wait to see your game day fits. is it september yet?

user: please quit posting with joe, i’m trying to forget you’re the one who has him tied down.

joeyb_9

liked by breezyevie, ufc, lahjay10_, and 612,597 others

joeyb_9: preciate all of the fighters that didn’t beat me up this weekend. @ufc

view all 817 comments…

breezyevie: it’s the bucket hat for me

> joeyb_9: just call me joe buckets

> breezyevie: gtfo. 🤣

user: coldest qb

user: stupid pic

user: didn’t know joey b was chill like that

user: why didn’t ev go to the fight?

> user: no one wants to see him with his busted gf

> user: they’re engaged now

> user: that’s even worse

lahjay10_: no ev slander around here

> breezyevie: you’re my favorite. 🤍

breezyevie

liked by joeyb_9, eviesmomma, nascar, and 659,269 others

breezyevie: is she a nascar girly now?

view all 5,272 comments…

user: i hate when ur posts come up on my page

user: a post that isn’t about joe? *gasp*

joeyb_9: you’re just the coolest person i know.

> breezyevie: it’s natural swag

user: iconic look

user: fine i’ll watch @nascar now

lahjay10_: she drive that fast car

user: is this why you weren’t at ufc with joe

user: are you going to become an influencer now

user: omg look at you!

user: i wanna be you when i grow up

> breezyevie: be better than me! be YOU!!

user: what a sellout. quit piggy backing off of your bf and get a real job

joeyb_9

liked by breezyevie, millyg, and 936,937 others

joeyb_9: Today and always… Happy Anniversary Ev, your gift is this pic on my feed.

view all 89,625 comments…

breezyevie: thanks for being you and for being mine.

> user: all of the “joe never post her” commenters, refer to the above photo.

> user: i liked it better that way

user: he deserves so much better

lahjay10_: there’s no joey b without ev! happy anniversary.

user: no way he’s got a gf!!!

> user: they have been together for like six years? like how did you miss that?

user: that should be me

user: when he didn’t post her i could pretend she didn’t exist

user: happy anniversary to my mom and dad!

bengals: Happy Anniversary to Jovie!

user: break up with her, i’m hotter.

breezyevie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and 973,026 others

breezyevie: some randoms of my jb. im so lucky that i fell in love with someone who became hot and famous. my life is brighter with you in it, happy anniversary baby.

view all 200 comments…

*comments on this post are limited*

user: i can’t wait for this wedding

user: ev is always clutch with the unseens

joeyb_9: hot, famous, and taken. it’s you and me baby.

user: mother has fed us today

user: it’s sad that she limited comments

> user: i never thought id see the day that comments would bother her, she’s got thick skin.

> millyg: sometimes it doesn’t matter how thick your skin is when the whole internet is shitting on you just bc they want your man.

breezyevies ig stories:

[kelcemesoftly]

Request “You know I would die for you, right?” for Trav

Not My Girl

Triggers: swearing, alcohol, angst then fluff

Notes: Thanks so much for this request! I think I went a little overboard, but shhhh. I had a lot of fun writing this one :) Maybe angst is my thing??? Who knows.

Also, as much as I cannot stand the Bengals, I have nothing against any of the players or Logan Wilson. So no hate please ❤️💛

The Chiefs were down by a field goal at the beginning of the fourth quarter. Usually, that wouldn't cause you too much stress, but this was against the Bengals. And historically, the games had come down to the last possession. That thought alone made you feel sick to your stomach. You knew how important this playoff win was to the guys on the team. It would prove to all the haters, all the doubters, that the Chiefs were the real deal, and that Arrowhead would always be Arrowhead.

You watched as Pat, Trav, and the rest of the offense fled onto the field. You were up in the booth with Britt, some of the other wives, and Trav's entire family. Unfortunately, the Eagles hadn't made it this far in the playoffs, and while that was sad for Jason, it meant that his family could come and support Trav while rooting for the Chiefs to pull off a win. "Let's go, babe," you muttered, standing near the see-through glass of the family-style suite. Pat got the ball and threw it to Trav, who successfully made the catch. He gained about ten yards before he was tackled down by Logan Wilson. Only this time, the defensive player was preventing him from getting up right away. At first you felt as if your heart stopped, afraid that Travis had been injured. But, that worry was quickly replaced with utter confusion once he stood up and got in the face of Wilson. You couldn't hear any of the words being exchanged, obviously, but you could see his muscles flex under his jersey, even with as far away as you were. "What the hell?" you whispered, glued to the plexiglass in front of you.

The ref threw up a yellow penalty flag as Wilson shoved Travis, who then reacted out of instinct by shoving the defensive player back. Soon enough, both teams got into a scuffle, and the only reason Travis got out of that mess was because Pat literally pulled him out of it. "What happened?" Britt asked, popping up next to you, her brows furrowed in concern and confusion.

"I have no clue. He hasn't been like this... this mad, in years," you said, shaking your head. At the beginning of his career, Trav had a real quick temper on him, but that had progressively gotten better as the seasons had went on. Sure, he would get heated here and there, but this was something different. Listening to the ref's call, you heard that each player got an unsportsmanlike call, offsetting each other. You reached for your drink and took a long sip, running your fingers through your hair while watching the boys on the field below. Luckily, Travis had remained put together the remainder of that drive, with him scoring a touchdown. Unfortunately, Butker missed the extra point, so the Chiefs were only ahead by a field goal.

Kylie had made you up another drink, and by the time you were half-way through it, the Bengals had tied up the game. "You don't want 15 to have the ball in his hands in the final seconds of this game," Britt said, clapping her hands as the Chiefs' offense took the field once again. You watched them intently, immediately picking up on the fact that Travis was distracted. That altercation must have really rattled him, based on fact that Trav had now dropped three passes.

"Come on, Trav," Jason encouraged, placing his hands on top of his head. The game was down to the final 30 seconds, and the boys still had forty yards to go. Blowing out a deep breath, you bit down on your lip as Britt handed you a shot glass. "It's good luck," she lied, clanking glasses with you and Kylie before all three of you shot it back.

As you reached down for your drink, you shrieked loudly when you saw Travis and Wilson going at it once again at the end of one of their plays, albeit this time it was much more intense. There was clearly yelling going between the both of them, with Travis pointing his finger angrily at the man across from him. "Baby, don't do this. We need you," you begged, swallowing the bile you felt creeping up in your throat. Once again, Pat was able to break up the fight, but not without a flag being thrown. Thankfully, the penalty was only on Wilson that time, otherwise your husband would have been ejected.

"What the hell is his deal?" you asked no one in particular, shaking your head. You were angry that he was doing this because he could have easily jeopardized the game and his team, something you knew he'd regret. And it was a playoff game, to make it worse. You just prayed that nothing else would happen in the remaining seconds of the game.

Britt took your hand in hers and squeezed it as Pat got the ball, scrambling around the pocket until he spotted Trav being wide open. Your husband caught the ball and ran it into the end zone, spiking the ball. He screamed out in happiness and did one of his dances, only being stopped by his teammates embracing him. Pat gripped his arm and dragged him off the field before he could confront his enemy, not wanting there to be a penalty flag on the play to overturn the touchdown. As soon as the touchdown was confirmed, everyone in the booth screamed and cheered. "We're going to the Super Bowl!" Britt screamed, jumping up and down with you.

Everyone in the booth celebrated while the players wrapped up the game, and before you knew it, you were heading down to the field with the other family members in the booth. As soon as you got to the field, your eyes roamed around for your husband. Once you spotted him, you took off running for him. Trav opened his arms and you jumped into them, legs and arms wrapping around his sweaty body. "You did it, baby, you're going to the Super Bowl," you grinned, happy tears streaming down your cheeks. Even though they'd been to three Super Bowls before, winning two of them, the pride and joy you felt for him never got old. Giving him a sweet kiss, you told him how much you loved him before he set you down. He kept his arm securely wrapped around your shoulders as his family hugged him, as well, not letting you go for one second. It wasn't abnormal for him to want to touch you, but he wasn't generally this clingy.

Before you had a chance to ask him what had happened on the field, Wilson began to approach your small group. When Trav saw him, a low, animalistic growl left his throat, and he started to stalk toward him. You tried with all your might to hold him back, scared of what he might do. Unfortunately, you weren't strong enough to do so on your own. Luckily, Jason and Ed were right there. Jason gripped the back of his jersey and Ed stood in front of his son, pushing him back with his hands on Trav's chest. "I think you should give him time to cool off," Ed said, turning his head to speak to Wilson. With a curt nod, he obliged and walked away with his shoulders slumped.

"Travis Michael Kelce," you said firmly, eyes narrowing. You had no idea what the heck was going on, but you weren't going to have him risking his career over a petty football disagreement with someone on another team. When Trav's warming blue hues met yours, his face instantly softened and he swallowed thickly. "What the hell is this about?" you asked, putting your foot down. He shook his head, signaling he didn't want to talk about it on the field in front of all the reporters. You could understand that, so you didn't argue with him. Instead, you continued to celebrate with him and the rest of the guys before they headed to the locker room.

You and the rest of the family waited in the family waiting area while Trav showered and changed. It was eerily quiet between all of you, considering the win that just took place. "He had to have said something non football related. Travis has never been that pissed over a game," Jason commented, holding Ellie in his arms.

You sighed and nodded your head, looking down at your shoes. "Why don't y'all head back to the house? I'll wait for him. Hopefully I can get it out of him and he'll be calm by the time we get home," you suggested, rummaging through your purse to hand Kylie the keys. They agreed and after giving you a hug, shuffled out of the waiting area.

It wasn't too much longer before Travis emerged from the locker room. A small smile crossed your lips, and you offered him a hug and a kiss when he greeted you. Despite how irritated and slightly annoyed you were with him about his altercation with Wilson, you couldn't help but be immensely proud of him. He laced his fingers with yours and led you toward your car.

As soon as he pulled onto the highway, you turned in your seat so that you could properly look at him. "Trav, what happened? This... this anger, this rage, it isn't you. Not anymore," you said gently, stroking the back of his hand that was rested against your thigh.

With a heavy sigh, he glanced toward you and then squeezed your leg before turning his attention back to the highway. "I fucking hate his guts, Y/N."

You chuckled humorlessly, scrunching up your nose. "I gathered that from your two interactions with him, babe. Why do you hate him? You haven't had an issue with him in the past," you pointed out, placing your palm against the back of his hand before lacing your fingers with his.

"He made degrading and derogatory comments about you, babe. Comments that I wasn't going to fucking stand for. I don't give a fuck what he says about me. He wants to comment on my game? My appearance? My personality? Go for it. But he will not speak that way about my wife," he seethed, face reddening.

You swallowed thickly, shaking your head. "What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that he said filthy things that he should have never said. I will never forgive him, Y/N."

"I appreciate you sticking up for me, babe. I really do. But you could have been ejected from the game. The playoff game, Travis! You would regret that for the rest of your life," you said, your free hand flying into the air.

"No, I wouldn't. You know I would die for you, right? Getting kicked out of one fucking game would be nothing."

And as much as you wanted to argue with him, as much as you wanted to say he would regret it in the long run, you couldn't find it in your heart to yell at him or be mad. He was defending your honor, being the most amazing husband and person you could have asked for. Instead of yelling at him, you leaned over and pressed your lips to his cheek. "I love you. To the moon and back."

"You already know, baby girl. I love you more."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @kelcemenow @hearts4papayas @keiva1000

[moo9395]

My Ghosts headcanons

I've had these sitting in a google doc for ages so I might as well hand them over.

I've split them into stuff that 'could take place in canon' and 'modern au' stuff

Robin:

Fluent in multiple languages (kind of canon but whatever)

He has a PhD in astrophysics 

Humphrey:

He gets migraines

He’s a teacher (this is quite popular), Headteacher humphrey is cool as well

Failed his driving test 4 times in a row

Coffee gives Humphrey headaches so he drinks more of it. 

Mary:

She was a girl guide (me coded) (Credit to @kingofthefrogs swapped au for inspo)

Welsh (me coded)

Dyslexic

Kitty:

Can be heard on a spirit box (Credit to kingofthefrogs)

Likes Call the Midwife.

She is a Nurse or Doctor, possibly a paediatrician. Haven’t seen this done yet but I think it could be fun given her fascination with Maddocks’ injury.

She loves iced coffee.

Thomas:

He is scared of dogs (channeling me right now) Dante is a weird exception to this that Fanny often complains about but secretly is proud of.

He can experience temperature as a ghost. (Credit to Ailendolin) He is susceptible to heat stroke and sometimes gets a cold, especially after going in the lake.

He's left handed

He is dyslexic and/or short sighted. Bonus if he refuses to wear glasses. Double bonus if this gives him constant headaches.

Studied abroad in Holland for 2 years and developed a weed addiction, he moved back to the UK to get over it

Coffee gives Thomas headaches so he doesn’t drink it. 

Fanny:

Hypochondriac. 

Incredible at Netball (she's such a netball girlie) she plays wing attack or centre

Captain:

He has reading glasses.

Scared of chickens (Alektorophobia) (Inspired by @upsetslingshot on ao3)

Cap was in army cadets (me coded) and loved it.

Pat:

He's claustrophobic, he was in life and the fact that he died while struggling to breathe has worsened that.

He’s basically blind without his glasses. (like Velma type blind)

Road rage.

Julian:

Has hemophobia (fear of blood)

Julian was in army cadets and hated it.

Multi Character (mostly modern au stuff):

Thomas, Fanny, and Mary love watching Downton Abbey. Thomas is a passionate fan of Edith, Mary likes Sybil, and Fanny is a big fan of Violet Crawley (as she should be).

All autistic (Julian and Robin AuDHD).

Cap, Thomas, Mary, and Julian are cat people

Pat, Robin, and Fanny are dog people

Humphrey and Kitty passionately refuse to pick a side.

Thomas, Cap, Pat, Fanny and Julian are tea people.

Humphrey, Kitty, Mary and Robin are coffee people.

Robin and Humphrey as siblings/ twins.

Thomas and Kitty met in school. Thomas was being picked on and Kitty defended him.

Julian and Robin met in Cambridge Uni, Robin was doing an astrophysics PhD, Julian was doing his classmates a masters in politics.

Cap and Fanny play badminton together.

They have a group football team (more on that later)

Mary and Robin hooked up once (I know its canon but I love when it also happens in modern au's)

Hogwarts houses:

Hufflepuff - Humphrey, Pat, Mary

Gryffindor - Robin, Julian

Ravenclaw - Fanny, Thomas, Kitty

Slytherin - Cap

I'm very willing to elaborate and hear other opinions on this.

Mario Kart mains:

Robin - Bowser

Humphrey - Shy Guy

Mary - Yoshi

Kitty - Daisy

Thomas - Peach

Fanny - Toadette

Captain - Luigi

Pat - Koopa Troopa

Julian - Donkey Kong

The football team (my pride and joy):

Robin - goalkeeper, he once scored from a goal kick

Humphrey - defence, very good at headers (lol) but is frequently injured mainly due to being clumsy

Kitty - defence, she gets very invested in the game and will break knees (while apologising) 

Cap - defence, it took him a while to pick up the sport but he’s thriving, works very well with Humphrey and Kitty

Thomas - surprisingly good left winger, other teams generally see him (being himself) before the game  and write him off as a weaker player - he loves proving them wrong

Fanny - right wing, her and thomas make a weirdly good duo, she's absolutely incredible at penalties 

Pat - central midfielder and the team captain (Cap conceded that maybe Pat was a little bit better than him at football and should take the lead ‘just this once’)

Mary - Striker, really strong with both feet, closes her eyes when she takes a shot but somehow is still usually on target 

Julian - Striker, solid player but is frequently sent off for inappropriate celebrations

I had way too much fun re-reading these.

PLEASE USE THEM AND SEND ME THE FICS IM OBSESSED.