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lovings4turn · 10 months ago

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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.”

#.° ༘🗝️��₊ becca’s drabbles #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl imagine #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky x you #juraj slafkovsky blurb #hockey x reader

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tsukimefuku · 6 months ago

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CHAPTER TWO: MISTAKE OF FACT ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni!

❀ mistake of fact.

the concept “mistake of fact” describes a situation in which someone acts unaware of circumstances that could turn their actions into criminal acts. this can affect the assessment of their intent or culpability, reducing their penalty or even excluding the criminal nature of said act.

wc: 7.2K | ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ summary.

classes, law Firm meetings, and a little grit about it all. after taking and not doing so well on your first criminal law class assessment test, you decide to get hammered at the campus party. you just didn’t expect to accidentally bump into the professor of said class there.

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. silly slow-burn rom-com between professor and college student (this is purely a work of fiction, okay guys?). smoking and drinking. corporate trauma. itafushi is also a slow-burn. higuruma hates doing cardio (mood). nanami needed a subplot and kusakabe had to be in it, the voices told me so. exams suck. campus parties are a special kind of hell. the return of the ugly red scarf.

❀ notes etc.

as i said previously, some characters will have their subplots, hope you enjoy reading them too (they all tie into the main plot). yes I’m working through some issues regarding the lawyering world while writing this fic, how did you notice?

also, some love for the betas: @redlikerozez and @dottedsilktie thank you two so much 💛

You had a habit, a very ugly one. Ironically, the habit you used to unwind was currently driving you insane as you tapped around your pockets, failing to find the lighter for the cigarette you held in your mouth for the past two minutes. You stroked your bangs back in annoyance and grunted, a strand of hair poking up like a spike.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered to yourself the moment the bells went off, letting you know it was time for yet another Criminal Law class. At least this time you managed to wake up somewhat early and were already by the building.

Good job, me.

“Oh, hey!” you heard the light-hearted voice chirp from a distance. Darting your eyes towards it, there came the fluffy ball of pink hair and upbeat mood frolicking in your direction.

“Hey, Itadori! Do you by any chance have a lighter?”

He shrugged, “no, I’m sorry.”

Of course he didn’t. As the best track field runner you had ever met, you wondered if Itadori even knew what a cigarette was.

“You should stop smoking,” a broodier voice said. You noticed the spiky black hair student who was also approaching.

“Ah, get off my case, Fushiguro,” you retorted, putting your cigarette away, “which class are you guys here for?”

“Criminal law! And you?” Itadori replied.

“Oh, me too. I didn’t see you guys in his class last week, though.”

“We saw you!” Yuuji answered, completely oblivious that this was definitely something which would render you uncomfortable. You blushed, and after a few seconds, Fushiguro elbowed him. “Ouch, why did you do that?”

Fushiguro sighed loudly at his friend’s cluelessness, and you sheepishly giggled.

“Yeah… I guess everybody saw me.”

The three of you were sharing an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Itadori spoke again.

“So… Why isn’t Kugisaki enrolled?”

You shrugged, “she wanted to have other classes during this year to fast track her internship opportunities, I guess. I kind of did the same thing.”

“Is that allowed?” Yuuji inquired.

“Yeah, it is, as long as you take some other 101 classes before doing it,” you answered, while you three began walking into the building.

“I did that too, I want to pursue an internship in the public defense office as soon as possible,” Megumi interjected.

“Oh, nice! Me too,” you answered him, “but I’d totally take a position in a private law firm if given the chance.”

Fushiguro made a face you couldn’t quite identify, and didn’t answer anything in return.

The conversation about an internship in criminal defense died down as the three of you entered the elevator together, and while you were walking towards the classroom, Yuuji and Megumi began bantering.

More specifically, Itadori seemed keen on making small-talk about amenities, meanwhile Fushiguro simply did not take the hint and was shooting down every conversation topic his friend tried to bring up. You felt for Yuuji, noticing he was clearly eager to engage Megumi in a conversation, but the guy wouldn’t budge. At that point, you entertained Itadori for the remainder of the quick walk down the corridor.

Perhaps, you thought to yourself, Megumi was the clueless one.

Entering the classroom, you saw Professor Higuruma already seated by his desk fidgeting around with his glasses. This time, there was no suit jacket in sight, and he wore a white buttoned up shirt with a black tie, all under a suit vest.

You weren’t too proud to realize that you noticed the way his vest hugged his torso just right.

To top it off, after he was finished fidgeting with his glasses, Higuruma opened the cuffs of his white shirt, rolled up the sleeves up to his elbows, and slightly loosened his tie with two fingers hooked around it.

The way his arm muscles popped while he was sliding his fingers side to side around the fabric of the tie had every thought in your head poofing away instantly, and you looked away before your staring became too obvious.

The other students were coming in quickly. You made your way towards three miraculously empty seats in the front and sat on one end, while the boys took their places right beside you.

Higuruma noticed you and nodded softly as you met his eyes. You weren’t sure if he’d remember your face, but given the circumstances, it’d probably be hard not to. You greeted him back, smiling, and gestured around your regular-not-pajamas blouse, to which he replied by discreetly gesturing down his clean, not-coffee stained white buttoned up shirt.

Cute.

This time you thought that maybe sitting in the front would keep you safe from the Professor’s experiments. You had already tested your luck sitting in the back and it surely backfired — no pun intended.

After the students were settled, Higuruma got himself up and walked towards the white board, writing self-defense on it. He then turned on his heels, shoved his hands in his pockets and asked, “can anybody tell me what self-defense is?”

From your row, only Megumi raised his hand, but Higuruma’s eyes landed on Yuuji.

“You. What’s your name?” the Professor inquired, pointing at Itadori.

You heard him gulping by your side at that very same moment.

“Itadori Yuuji.”

“Then, Itadori, tell me what you think self-defense is.”

“I mean… self-defense is protecting yourself from someone trying to hurt you.”

Higuruma nodded, “you’re on the right track, but that’s not the entire answer. There is still something missing. Criminal Law occupies itself with criminal activities, so why do we need to study acts taken under self-defense? What else can you tell me about self-defense?”

Yuuji didn’t come up with something else to say, so Higuruma lifted the whiteboard marker in front of him.

“Itadori, I’ll throw this at you now.”

You and Megumi were instantly shocked, and Itadori began stuttering.

“W-wha-”

Higuruma actually threw the marker towards Yuuji’s chest, but Yuuji quickly grabbed it, glancing incredulously at the Professor.

“Now, that wasn’t self-defense in the way that it interests Criminal Law,” Higuruma noted, resuming the class as if nothing had happened.

Truth was, you could try sitting in the back, in the front, or anywhere in between, but when it came to Higuruma Hiromi’s class, apparently, there was no safe place to hide.

“It wasn’t?!” Itadori exclaimed.

“No. Self-defense, you see, is used to exclude the illegal quality of an action that would otherwise be considered a crime, like assault and battery, for example.”

Higuruma stepped into Yuuji’s direction, and excused himself as he picked the marker back in his hand, leaving the three of you dumbfounded as to how he could nonchalantly do these absurd things and think it was just alright.

The professor began writing on the white board and the classroom was filled with scribbling and typing sounds.

“Self-defense is when someone uses force, against another person, to protect themselves from harm or imminent danger offered by this other person’s criminal actions. In that sense, you didn’t use force against me, you solely protected yourself, hence, that’s not actually self-defense as the concept that matters to us in this classroom.”

Well, the example was crystal clear, indeed. Once again, he illustrated what he wanted to say brilliantly.

But holy shit, did he really have to do those crazy things every damn time?

“Before we proceed, I have some leisure homework for you all. I’d like everybody to watch the first three episodes of this TV series for us to discuss during our next lecture the evolution from legitimate self-defense to extrapolating it and finally committing a crime.”

He wrote the name for the show on the white board.

A shy hand lifted on the other end of the class, and a girl with blue hair and crooked bangs spoke after Higuruma pointed at her.

“Professor, won’t you ask us to watch one of those old movies other teachers usually do in introductory classes?”

“Most definitely not,” he answered — not without scoffing first, “this is Criminal Law, here things are interesting. If you’d like to sleep, go to Professor Nanami’s class, Commercial Law I.”

A tiny chuckle echoed from the back.

“Someone gets it,” he concluded before proceeding with the lecture.

The class went on without a hiccup with Yuuji quickly forgetting the marker debacle a few minutes in. After Higuruma was finished talking about the day’s topic, though, he remembered everyone about next week's assessment test, receiving mumbled complaints in return.

“Yeah, I know. I hate these things too, but unfortunately we have orders from above. Be sure to study everything up until the end of the self-defense module,” Higuruma said as he sank into his desk’s chair and fished his phone out of his pocket, “I wish you all best of luck.”

As the class was done, everyone began leaving.

“So, where are you going now?” Yuuji asked as you were currently fumbling around in your bag looking for your lighter — perhaps it wasn’t in your pockets after all, right?

“I�� if you two are tight on time just go without me, I’m looking for something in here and it might take some time,” you answered, thinking that some physics law might’ve been broken. Your bag seemed larger from the inside than from outside, and your lighter had surely disintegrated into thin air.

“It’s fine, we can wait,” Fushiguro answered.

Yuuji suddenly seemed to remember something and came at you sort of hyped, asking “will you be at the campus party by the end of next week?!”

“Sure, sure,” you answered absentmindedly, still fondling your things around and considering flipping it all on the ground.

“There will be a party next week on campus?” Higuruma asked with his eyes still glued to his phone’s screen.

Fushiguro elbowed Yuuji again, as it was kind of a secret from faculty members, just so none of them would butt in — there were the clueless ones, like Professor Gojo, for instance, that would always find their way into the free drinks and free food celebrations that were supposedly just for students.

“Y-Yes… it will be pretty late, though.”

Higuruma hummed, completely unfazed, “when I was a student here, we’d usually have those after 11PM to avoid faculty members, it’s a good idea. My suggestion is that you all just keep the noise down and use the space behind the brown brick building, there’s a blind spot there from the rest of the campus.”

Yuuji and Megumi shared a look before nodding hesitantly. Higuruma noticed they were both somewhat worried and sighed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not telling the other Professors, and you can all be completely sure I won’t be there.”

The bated breath the two students shared finally subsided.

“God fucking damnit where is this fucking lighter?” you mumbled to yourself.

That caught Higuruma’s attention, and he called your name.

Your hand stammered inside your bag and you looked at him.

“Do you need a lighter?” he asked you, lifting his eyes from his phone towards your direction.

You had the impression his eye bags were smaller that day.

“Yes, I lost mine.”

He reached into one of his pockets and pulled a small, yellow, disposable lighter, stretching his arm in your direction, “you can take this one, I have tons of these.”

You got up, threw your bag over your shoulder, and went to pick it up from his hands. As your fingers wrapped around the lighter, you accidentally locked eyes with him, now sure his eye bags were definitely smaller. Higuruma spared you a small smile and you immediately felt your cheeks warm as you took the tiny yellow lighter from his fingers and stepped back.

I’m pathetic.

“So, we’re good to go?” Fushiguro asked, looking at you.

“We’re good to go,” you answered him, then looking at Higuruma, “thank you, Professor.”

“It’s no trouble, Sanrio” he answered, redirecting his attention back to his phone, completely unaware he had just called you that out loud.

After a few seconds, realizing what he'd just done, Higuruma sheepishly lifted his eyes, seeing two confused boys and you looking away with your hand over your mouth, coughing softly. You bore the same weirdly twisted face you made days before, when he asked you to leave in the mock expulsion.

Truth was you wanted to laugh, equal parts amused and mortified.

“Sanrio? What?” Yuuji asked.

“My next class is Civil Law II! What about you, Fushiguro? We should go!” you blurted out, ignoring Yuuji’s question while stepping away, “bye, Professor. See you next class!”

“You three have a good day,” Higuruma muttered, sinking further into his chair as he looked away to conceal his own embarrassment.

The boys, still at a loss, followed you outside, also bidding Higuruma a good day.

***

This is hell. I’m a smoker and this is my personal, dantesque circle of hell for that sin.

With one leg launching in front of the other at a steady pace, Higuruma was jogging down the street while accompanied solely by the rhythmic thuds of his feet on the pavement. He had already put at least a mile behind him.

His blood felt like battery acid pumping through his veins, and lungs and muscles were burning with the strain of an exercise he was doing for the third time this week thanks to the encouragement of his best friend.

This time, however, there was no distraction from the discomfort while Higuruma dragged himself completely alone on this morning run. His usual jogging partner, Nanami, told him just ten minutes before the scheduled time that he would not be able to make it.

“Did something happen?” Higuruma asked on the phone, “It’s unlike you to cancel appointments with such short notice.”

Truthfully, Nanami was someone extremely considerate of other people’s time.

“Nothing too serious. I’ll have to be in a meeting with a Labor Law associate. It involves one of the companies we represent here at the firm,” he replied with an involuntary sigh. Nanami did not enjoy being taken by surprise like this.

“A meeting for one of those Union settlements?”

“Yes.”

“Yeesh, good luck with that. Don’t be too harsh on the workers, though.”

“I’ll just be there to oversee the meeting and report the outcome to our client, I have no say in the matter.”

“Really? Couldn’t the Labor Law associate do that, then?”

“It’s Kusakabe. He doesn’t do anything he’s not specifically paid to do.”

“Oh, right.”

Higuruma paused for a moment. He was already at their usual meeting point, all propped up and ready to go, but didn’t quite feel like subjecting himself to that torture alone.

“You should just do your run today, I’ll join you back after tomorrow,” Nanami told him, as if reading his mind.

“I don’t know. Having company makes this slightly more bearable.”

“Is that so?” Nanami barely concealed the hint of amusement in his voice.

“Tsk, shut up.” Higuruma retorted.

Nanami huffed, nearly a chuckle, and proceeded, “this routine seems to have affected you positively, you shouldn’t miss a day for such a pedestrian reason.”

It was true. As a consolation prize for this suffering, the Professor had managed to sleep better those past few days and his mood had improved too.

Prior to his breakdown, Higuruma had never given much thought about his overall health. After he came back to normal life — or as normal as it could be —, he tried to eat properly and exercise at the gym most days of the week.

“I guess,” Higuruma finally conceded, defeated, loathing cardio with every fiber of his being.

“Then, off you go.”

“Okay. I’ll run and suffer alone today after being ditched,” Higuruma stated, half in jest.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Hiromi,” Nanami remarked, “you can do it just fine.”

Just fine… I’m not sure if “fine” is the word I’d choose for this self-imposed torture.

Taking one of the final turns, Higuruma passed by a storefront. On it, there was a big illustration of Hello Kitty that covered most of the space. He hadn’t noticed that store before, but seeing the cartoonish cat with its pink bow brought an amused smile to his face as he remembered the student that, for some random reason, decided to attend his class using a kitty’s pajamas — you.

That moment got him to reminisce on the occasions that he, himself, was also too tired or too out of it to properly change before going to class, leading to some similar debacles during his undergrad years.

Ever since that day, the Professor had nicknamed you Sanrio in his head, a silly inside joke with himself.

As he reached the end of the usual route, Higuruma paused and hunched over, inhaling deeply through his mouth, oxygen failing to properly enter his cells — or at least it felt like it.

I wonder if I can take a taxi to go back home...

Involuntarily hearing Nanami’s voice in his head chastising him for wanting to take the easy shortcut, Higuruma grunted and took a deep breath before jogging his way back.

***

Nanami churned on his coffee’s last sip as if that alone would be enough to realign his chakras and soothe his growing headache.

It wasn’t.

Nanami rarely saw himself pulled into other people’s work, but he detested each and every time it happened. As someone that usually planned his day thoroughly, with every minute properly accounted for, these types of unforeseen events would, most times, end up causing a domino effect over everything he had arranged in his schedule.

This time, however, he wasn’t sure if his distaste for the situation stemmed solely from the fact that his agenda got fondled around.

Something else about it was bothering him, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The contrast on the meeting table was clear — on the company’s side, he sat with Kusakabe, at least three mid-level associates, two juniors and one random intern. Behind them, the firm’s logo hung high on the wall, casting its brushed steel sheen over the expensive mahogany table.

On the other side, though, sat an Union representative with one single lawyer beside him. Since the firm had rescheduled this meeting on short notice four times, demanding it took place in one of their offices — which was everything but close to where the union-office was located —, the Union only had enough money to pay for the expenses of sending the minimum amount of people required to legally sign a settlement.

Nanami slowly realized, as the negotiations went on, what was bothering him so much.

This wasn’t a negotiation meeting.

It was a power play consisting of intimidation techniques. Clearly an attempt at wearing the Union down and pushing them into accepting any settlement to end the strike as soon as possible.

It all said we can take you on — if you don’t accept our offer and take this to Court, we have the money, the people and the ways to win this fight.

“These are our terms, as we had already discussed, printed and ready for you to sign,” Kusakabe remarked, as he pushed a pile of papers towards the two.

The Union representative seemed ready to crumble under a put-upon expression, his black hair parted in the middle and thick framed glasses not doing nearly enough to conceal it. He knew exactly what was going on, how this had happened, and also that this strike couldn’t go on for much longer without causing serious issues in the lives of all the workers.

The company was successful in their attempt of making it look like they tried to settle the dispute, and it had been long enough that people would start falling like dominos in the firing list.

The blond woman beside him seemed ready to toss her attorney’s license in the nearest dumpster and go do something else with her life.

The Union representative took the pen in his hand and sighed.

“Are you positive you want to do this, Ijichi?” the lawyer asked, looking at him with a tinge of concern in between her brows.

“We don’t have another choice, Nitta,” he replied, signing those papers away so quickly it felt like his hands were about to get burned in the fiery pits of hell.

She exhaled sharply while leaning back on her chair.

“I’m glad we got to settle this amicably. We expect you all back on the grounds by Monday,” Kusakabe concluded as he pulled the pile of papers back to him and lifted himself up on the chair.

Everyone got up, but when Kusakabe extended his hand towards Nitta, she and Ijichi just turned around, stepping towards the exit.

Nanami’s slight discomfort had grown into an actual stone weighing in his gut, and he didn’t quite think about what he ended up doing next.

He walked behind Nitta and Ijichi, and called them by their names — something that surprised them both, given they didn’t expect him and most of the people inside that meeting room to be paying any attention at all.

“So, you did listen to that meeting and weren't there just to add numbers?” Nitta asked begrudgingly.

“I did,” Nanami answered.

“What do you want?” Ijichi inquired, itching to get himself out of that building as quickly as possible. He felt dirty, to say the least, and needed a minimum of three full baths to feel like himself again.

“To give you both my business card.”

Both of them looked incredulous.

“I don’t mean any harm nor am I trying to get something out of a terrible situation. I just... That was...”

He really didn’t think this through.

“What I mean to say is that if there is anything you both need, this is my contact info.”

Nanami pulled the slim piece of cardstock and offered it. Ijichi and Nitta shared a hesitant look right before she took it from his hands. With a bow, both of them left, still feeling a little dumbfounded.

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble? You’ve made it to Partner in the firm, leave it alone,” a slightly muffled voice echoed behind Nanami. It was Kusakabe, who had just shoved a lollipop in his mouth and had his hands inside his pockets.

“That didn’t bother you at all?” Nanami inquired, gesturing towards the now emptying meeting room.

“I’m not paid to get bothered. I come, I do my job, and I go home.”

“Still,” Nanami remarked, “it was...”

“I know,” Kusakabe answered him. He took a few moments before sighing, leaning himself against a wall, and repeated in a lower tone, “I know.”

For the briefest moment, Kusakabe’s expression resembled a slight grimace.

“You don’t seem completely unbothered, even if you’re not getting paid to care,” Nanami stated.

Kusakabe looked at Nanami and said nothing as they made their way back into their respective offices.

***

Higuruma also had a bad habit.

Due to his terrible memory regarding people’s names, he gave everyone a nickname in his mind. Beyond calling you Sanrio, his nicknames for the pink haired fluffy guy and the brooding dude always by his side were, respectively, Clueless and Porcupine.

At that moment, he watched as Sanrio, Clueless and Porcupine sat beside one another while taking their first assessment test for the Criminal Law class.

You were so laser focused on the test, eyes darting from one end to the other of the paper frantically, hand periodically brushing your bangs back in desperation, that he feared you might actually end up accidentally activating a laser beam and burning the thing. Clueless was… well, clueless. He looked like someone who had never been properly alphabetized in his entire life. And finally, Porcupine didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, calmly reading and selecting each answer with the ease and certainty of someone that knew what he was doing.

He was sort of amused to realize Sanrio’s bangs had a small lock of hair poking out.

Higuruma glanced his eyes over the class, and made the sad realization he’d have dozens upon dozens of tests to grade and submit to the Dean the following morning.

What a nightmare, I’ll be here forever grading these after hours.

He had completely forgotten, earlier that day, that he’d have to deal with assessment test shenanigans. The information popped back into his mind five minutes before he arrived at the Uni, and Higuruma got a little desperate, remembering he needed to pick up the pile of tests inside the brown brick building’s print center before darting his way to class.

At least, he was more accustomed to running by then.

After parking near the building, Higuruma ran against the clock, and made it by the skin of his teeth. The Professor was completely relieved, failing to realize that his memory had fucked him over more than once that day.

You, on the other hand, weren’t fending off much better.

What do I do, there is more than one answer to this, it fucking depends, goddammit, you cursed inside your mind while answering most of the questions in that assessment test.

I need a cigarette.

You were particularly bad at taking multiple choice tests, especially in subjective areas — which was definitely the case for Criminal Law.

You had this little curse of wanting to select two different answers in nearly every question and always choosing the wrong one.

At least I can drink this failure away at the party today.

“Ten more minutes!” Higuruma’s voice echoed through the classroom, and you must’ve looked particularly more hectic than before, because you felt his eyes on you, and when looking up, noticed he seemed a little concerned.

Very charmingly concerned in that disheveled suit and slightly messy hair.

Ah, shut up, brain.

After the ten minutes flew by, a cacophony of pens being put down or clicked around could be heard. People got up, and one by one, the students put their tests over Higuruma’s desk. He dangled over his chair lazily, bidding his students a good morning with a mumble.

You were the last one left, and stared at your test like it was a nuke falling right into your future criminal defense attorney career. Sad wasn’t the best word for it — you felt disheartened.

Sighing defeatedly, you lifted yourself from your chair like your clothing was made of lead and walked towards Higuruma’s desk, handing him the paper. His eyes lifted towards you while he took the test from your hands.

“What did you think of the test?” Higuruma inquired, organizing all the papers into a neat pile.

You huffed.

“Sanrio is worried about this test,” you replied, smiling while poking a little fun at him.

His eyes widened a little, and for a second, Higuruma looked embarrassed.

“About that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” he began.

“Oh! It’s...”

Completely okay. Kinda sweet. Something I might’ve actually liked.

“Fine. I didn’t mind. It’s not always, but sometimes I nickname people in my head too.”

He offered you a discreet awkward nod, “okay, then.”

Noticing you might’ve made him unnecessarily uncomfortable, you decided to lighten up the air.

“So... No random experiment for torturing your minions today? I mean, the students.”

Higuruma chuckled softly.

“Ah, no. I figured this test was enough torture for one day,” he answered, spirited, “I’m not that ruthless.”

Remembering the Yuuji marker debacle, you thought about something for a moment before you resumed speaking.

“You know,” you began, “perhaps you should ask for students to volunteer before doing your… things.”

“I used to, actually,” he promptly answered.

“You did?” your voice sounded surprised.

Higuruma nodded, “Yes, but students rarely volunteered.”

That sounded a little off.

“Quick question, Professor. Did this scarcity of volunteers happen before or after the first volunteer demonstration?” you inquired.

“After. Why do you ask?” He asked while putting the tests into his briefcase.

Oh my God, he’s so clueless.

“No reason. Just curious.”

***

“Hey, people! I brought us beers!” Yuuji exclaimed, light spirited, as he walked towards you, Megumi, Nobara and Maki all seated on the grass behind the brick building. He quickly descended to sit beside the group.

“You are the best, but I’m not mixing today,” you thanked, greeting him with a cup full of pure vodka, “this should do the trick for tonight. Also, it’s pretty fucking cold for beer.”

“Is that why you’re wearing that thing?” Nobara inquired while pointing at your ugly red scarf around your neck.

“Get off my case, Nobara,” you retorted, gulping on your drink with some unidentifiable desperation.

“Shit, was the test that bad?” Maki asked you as she took a single can from Yuuji’s arms, while mindlessly pulling Nobara closer and kissing her head.

“It was weird, I was so confused, it felt like every question had at least two answers,” you complained, stretching your body over the grass.

“You probably did fine, you tend to be overly dramatic about these things,” Nobara stated while pulling another can from Yuuji, smacking on his shoulder with a fist. He whined in complaint, and she chuckled like a tiny ginger demon.

“I agree with Kugisaki, you’re smart!” Yuuji chirped in, while scrambling his way to sit beside Megumi, “I had no idea what I was doing. If you thought about at least two answers to each question, you’re already better than me.”

This poor, poor kid, you thought.

“There’s more to exams than just being smart, you need to know how to do them, and I do not, unfortunately…” you answered, a tinge of disappointment to your expression.

“This is solely an assessment test, anyway. It doesn’t compute in our final grades, there is no need to be so upset about it,” Megumi interjected, shushing himself when you glared at him.

He was terrible at comforting people.

“So, Fushiguro, I didn’t quite know what you’d like to drink, so I brought three types of beer,” Itadori mumbled, extending three different cans of beer towards Megumi like a raven with trinket offerings for his favorite human.

Not exactly smooth, but definitely cute.

Nobara and Maki shared a look, both of them with cheeky smiles on their faces. You covered your mouth to conceal your own smile — you were far from being as saucy as the power couple by your side — and waited with a bated breath for Megumi to pick up on the hint from Yuuji.

It was about time, considering it had been months of Yuuji trying to make a move.

“No, thank you, I won’t drink today,” Fushiguro cluelessly replied, and Itadori visibly deflated from that.

“T-then… I can grab a soda for you, or…” Itadori clumsily interjected, while scratching the back of his neck.

“There’s no need, I will go-”

Perhaps it was the vodka, the dreadful day or how much Megumi had just cock-blocked your shipping dreams, but you blurted out your next few words.

“For fucks sake, Fushiguro, if you don’t take a beer can from Itadori right now, I will body slam you into oblivion.”

“… We’re on the ground. How would that even-”

“Bitch, don’t test me.”

Fushiguro was somewhat taken aback by your interjection, but hesitantly extended his hand and picked one of the three beers Itadori had selected for him, prying it open with a wheezing click. Megumi looked at you, then the beer can, then at Itadori, suspiciously taking a tiny sip.

“It is… good,” he muttered, as a smile slowly returned to Yuuji’s Kirby persona.

“Now, thank him,” you complemented, pointing at Yuuji, “he did find three types of beer in this God-forsaken campus party only for you, after all. I’d never have bothered to do so, and I bet Maki and Nobara feel the same.”

The power couple raised their drinks in agreement towards you, and Fushiguro sighed.

“Thank you, Itadori.”

Yuuji happily nodded, “you’re welcome! Do you want something to eat? I could-”

“Baby steps, buddy… baby steps,” you interrupted, putting your hand over Yuuji’s shoulder. He nodded sheepishly while Megumi was at a loss.

“O-okay,” Itadori acquiesced.

Suddenly, you all heard a voice calling Megumi’s name from a distance, sounding like some kind of haunting, and began looking around as he buried his face in his hands.

“Who is that?” you asked.

“Megumi! Where’s the food!?” the voice inquired in a light hearted tone. In the distance, you saw a fluffy, white ball of hair approaching under sunglasses. At night.

Megumi groaned from the depths of his soul.

“Argh, for fucks sake,” he complained, well aware as to who was coming.

Trying to dodge the faculty members didn’t do much to keep his adoptive father away, apparently.

Not so far from there, Higuruma sat in a poorly lit office grading the tests the entire class had taken that morning. After finishing grading yours — and you didn’t do very well, just as you had anticipated — he muttered to himself, out loud, “what happened there, Sanrio?”

The Professor failed to notice he did remember your name perfectly, even if he kept calling you Sanrio.

“Will you sleep in here today?” a familiar voice scowled from the door, and Higuruma turned his face to meet the dusty blonde head of hair peeping through.

“I’ll just finish grading these and then I’ll go home, Kento,” Higuruma answered with a tired smile on his face.

“And couldn’t you have done that from home?” his friend asked, looking at the menacing pile of paper over the man’s desk, “or maybe tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I’d never get to it if I had left it for later. I’m already here, might as well just ditch this Pavlovian nightmare as soon as possible,” the other stated, flailing a test on his hand before proceeding, “what are these even meant to assess? Someone’s capabilities of answering formulaic questions like trained dogs? Ugh.”

Higuruma was ranting.

Nanami huffed a slightly amused chuckle, but underneath it, he seemed a little beaten down.

“Is everything okay, Kento?” Higuruma asked, interrupting his ranting when noticing his deflated friend.

“I’m… fine.”

Nanami had forgotten for a second that Higuruma, underneath all his antics, was a very perceptive person.

“Are you sure?” Higuruma insisted, “you don’t look so well.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about work, that’s all.”

And that he was. That meeting had stuck with him for those past few days.

“Oh, how was the meeting with the Union?”

Nanami’s breath got caught for a second before he mustered up something to answer.

“It wasn’t what I expected it to be. I might be switching things up soon,” Nanami said with some understated grave finality.

“Truly?” Higuruma sounded surprised.

“Yes. Perhaps exploring new fronts beyond Corporate Law.”

“Well, then, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help apart from practicing law.”

Higuruma’s voice cracked softly right at the end of his sentence. Nanami didn’t fail to notice it, and kept silent as his friend seemed to mull over bitter memories.

“Hiromi,” Nanami began.

“I can’t, I… can’t.”

Higuruma had visibly tensed up, his fists unconsciously clenching as his forearms laid flat on the desk.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nanami concluded, careful not to dig too deep on the matter.

Both of them shared an uncomfortable silence before Higuruma hesitantly steered his gaze to meet Nanami’s. Unsure, Higuruma gave his friend a tiny nod, and moved his attention back to the task in front of him.

Understanding that the talk about it was over, at least for now, Nanami asked, “I’m leaving, do you want me to help you carry those to your car?”

“Oh, there’s no need. I parked far, behind the…”

Oh, shit.

“Nanami, what day is it today?”

***

“I’m not drunk,” you mumbled, while filling your third cup of vodka.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Nobara said, giving you a light push to your shoulder, having you nearly tip over. Meanwhile, Megumi, Yuuji and Maki were entertained with Yuuji trying to score Gojo’s open mouth with peanuts like it was a basketball hoop.

Megumi was the least entertained of the trio.

“Knock it off!” you complained, slapping her hand away.

You fished your pack of cigarettes from your pocket, and she instantly grunted.

“Those things stink and itch my nose, go smoke them somewhere else.”

It was your time to grunt.

“Ugh, fine. Then I’ll find a new best friend that’ll let me smoke — hell, one that might even smoke with me!” you replied, getting ready to leave.

“Make good choices!” she poked at you, and you playfully brushed her off.

“I won’t!”

You walked away — not before hearing Yuuji and Gojo cheering right after Yuuji managed to score ten peanuts in a row — and gave your cup of vodka another sip, having the burning tingle dripping down your throat, warming you up against the cold wind.

After about two minutes or so of walking, sure your smoke wouldn’t blow on anyone’s faces, you put a cigarette into your mouth and pulled the lighter Professor Higuruma had given you, trying to light the cig up.

However, the wind wouldn’t let you, no matter how much you tried to tent your hand around it.

God, why? you thought to yourself, fidgeting with your bangs in annoyance.

While darting your eyes around, looking for any sort of shelter from the wind, you found a beat up, dark navy-blue car that surely had seen better days parked just behind the brick building. In your drunken haze, you figured that squatting between both would be the best idea.

Stumbling your way towards the gap, you quickly went down on the ground in a crouched position, holding your cup in one hand and the lighter on the other, cig strongly held in between your lips.

Flick, flick, flick.

Nothing.

God fucking damnit.

“Hey!” a male voice exclaimed from behind you, scaring the shit out of your soul.

Your body moved on instinct. You instantly jumped up, startled and screaming, and tossed the entire vodka contents from the cup towards whoever had nearly given you a heart attack.

Higuruma stood there, completely stunned and incredulous, as the beverage hit his shirt, vest, tie, face and coat.

“… I didn’t mean to scare you,” he offered, taking his glasses off to shake the liquid from them before putting them back, “but why?”

For a split second, he was just glad this wasn’t coffee or wine, the staining demons of liquids. It could’ve been worse.

Oh my God. I can’t believe I assaulted this man with my drink again. This has to be a prank.

This time, already impaired from two full glasses of vodka in your system, and increasingly nervous at that situation, you couldn’t hold it in.

You began cackling, directly to his face, as his expression became profoundly confused. He lifted an eyebrow, not knowing if he should feel scared, amused or offended.

"I-I just… Just laugh in i-inappropriate… moments- I’m sorry!" you tried explaining, in between laughs and huffs, drying a tear that bubbled up at the edge of your eye with the tip of your fingers.

You both stood there for a few seconds until your laughter died down, and he was then sure you definitely had a few screws loose.

It amused him.

“Here, let me use this to dry your shirt," you told Higuruma, approaching him with your red scarf, pressing it against his chest. He put his free hand over it and haphazardly rubbed it over the damp patches of his clothes alongside you.

This up close, he couldn’t help but notice once again that tiny hair lock which swirled away from your bangs.

Realizing he was staring at your hair, Higuruma diverted his eyes elsewhere, having them landing over the ugly red scarf.

"Ah, that hideous thing."

Shit, I said that out loud, he thought to himself, facepalming internally.

To that, you looked at him, wide eyed, and laughed wholeheartedly, having Higuruma blushing embarrassment at his own incapacity to control his words.

"It is hideous, isn't it?" you noted, surprising him.

For the second time in that interaction, he was nothing short of perplexed. The Professor was more than accustomed to having people get deeply offended at his talking mishaps from time to time.

"I thought you might be laughing because what I said was terribly inappropriate," Higuruma admitted, somewhat relieved.

"Oh, no. It was funny. I also laugh at funny things," you jested with a mindless smile pulling on your cheeks.

It was his time to chuckle, and you didn’t fail to notice, even in your tipsy fog, how a tiny crease would form on the edges of his hangdog eyes when he was laughing. And how his voice reverberated. And how his disheveled hair framed around his face beautifully, highlighting his beautiful hooked nose. And-

Shit. I have the hots for the Professor.

"... Is there still anything on my face?"

That snapped you out of it, but not entirely.

"Uh? Why?"

"Because you're staring at it."

Yeah. That checks out.

“I just… never mind,” you told him while blushing discreetly, scrambling around to give him some space. It was only then that Higuruma noticed he had his hand resting over yours for a while after you stopped trying to pat him dry with the ugliest scarf known to mankind.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “why were you slouching by my car?”

“I was trying to light a cigarette,” you replied, pointing at the cig on the ground after the debacle, “the wind is pretty unforgiving today.”

“I see. I’m sorry about the fallen soldier,” he stated.

“No worries, I’ve got more,” you replied, pulling your pack from your pocket, “do you want one?”

I shouldn’t, smoking is bad, I’m doing cardio three times a we-

“Yes.”

You pulled two cigarettes from the pack, put them both in your mouth, cupped your hand around the cigs to light them up, and it actually worked.

Well, that’s convenient.

You inhaled the smoke for a second, feeling it waving into your mouth. It immediately soothed your crave.

Taking one of them in between two fingers, you extended your hand towards Higuruma, who grabbed the smoke.

“Thanks,” he offered in a calm tone.

“No worries, it’s the least I could do after assaulting you with vodka,” you shrugged with some embarrassment.

“It’s oka… pure vodka?”

“Yes.”

That’s… a lot.

He was a little taken aback, but decided not to ask anything.

“Well, at least it won’t leave a stain, unlike coffee,” Higuruma remarked.

“Yeah, it won’t,” you replied while mindlessly giggling.

Higuruma finally bowed his head towards you and you retributed the gesture, bidding him goodbye before leaving on your way to your dorm room.

Once you were gone, he went inside his car, cracking the window open. As he was finally alone pulling the cigarette towards his lips, Higuruma noticed something around the edge of the cig. A soft pinkish-red ring that went all around it.

Is this… her lipstick?

It was.

Against his better judgment, Higuruma blushed softly, instantly shaking his head to weave off the heat that had pooled around in his cheeks before flipping the engine on.

Get a hold of yourself.

He did, however, hold the cig in his mouth, smudging the faint lipstick tint it had on his lips until the smoke was all spent up.

Tag list:

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @markleeisdabestdrug @redlikerozez @delirious-donna

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @senseifupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @pseudowho

@soft--cherry @bsaeshell @quinnyundertow @traffi

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org4n-failur3 · 7 months ago

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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

#info post #information #dylannstormroof #dsr #tccblr #tc community #tcc columbine #vivi stfu

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a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin · 9 months ago

Text

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?”

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #ao3 writer #fanfic #fanfiction #sanemi shinaguzawa #kny sanemi #kny smut #demon slayer smut #college au

236 notes · View notes

dear-ao3 · 1 year ago

Note

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.

#not a tag #from saph #theres more but like #you get the idea #f1 #i enjoyed it immensely except for lands crash that was scary and terrifying

284 notes · View notes

happeehippie · 10 months ago

Text

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:

#bengals #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #nfl #nfl imagine #joe burrow insta au #joe burrow instagram

246 notes · View notes

kelcemesoftly · 1 year ago

Note

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

#travis kelce #travis kelce blurb #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce oneshot

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keelt9 · 3 months ago

Text

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?”

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #max verstappen imagine #lewis hamilton #mercedes #sir lewis hamilton

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onadarklingplain · 4 months ago

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🔀 malex!

bad skin day - bell x1 they're all different shades of the same song “Please tell me I wasn’t,” Alex starts, but he can’t make himself finish the sentence.

He’s holding onto the railing of the parade bus too tight, pulling his arms straight, trying to get some of the tension out of his shoulders. It’s damp, the grandstands nothing but a blur of ponchos, the crowd dark and indistinct — they’re probably all hiding under umbrellas, looking at their phones, but Alex makes himself unclench a little and raises a hand to give a halfhearted wave anyway.

“What do you mean,” Max says seriously, clearly not feeling generous enough to forget that Alex started a thought and abandoned it halfway through. He’s leaning against the side of the bus, hip cocked, but his hat is throwing a shadow across his face so it’s hard to see his expression properly.

“I mean, like,” and Alex looks pointedly down at the other end of the bus, where Logan is talking to Oscar and George. “The tension is unreal. I keep cracking and laughing by mistake, so I look like an even bigger cunt than usual.”

He feels it all the time, but it’s worst in the briefings, when the sourness in his stomach is inescapable — watching Logan on the other side of the table, hunched over his laptop, quiet, the data black and white. It's an old familiar panic itching under his skin, a sensation not even alleviated by being nice; everything he says comes out too much like pity. It should feel better to win. It shouldn’t feel so much like fucking up.

“Is it true then,” Max asks leaning closer, gleeful at the prospect of paddock gossip. “Is Vowles honestly not talking to him?”

“Stop, please,” Alex groans. “I’ve got it bad enough in the media pen, having to second-guess literally everything I say.” He glances guilty up at the front of the truck, where Will Buxton is interviewing Lando, like even thinking about paddock reporters is enough to materialise a microphone in front of his face.

He hasn’t often had cause to be gracious in his life, and he’s realising too late that it doesn’t suit him — he doesn’t know how to act without the pressure of a boot on his neck, all his habitual self-criticism starting to feel like a kind of parody.

“Well if you ever want to not worry about it,” Max says, with a shrug. Even though Alex can only see the side of his face, he looks relaxed, like a man who knows he out-qualified the rest of the field by half a second and who’s sure he’s going to make up his entire grid penalty by turn three. “We can have some drinks, and you can talk, and I won’t think you’re a cunt.” Alex could say yes. He could go back to Max's and he could tell the truth about how he much wanted to lie whenever Logan asked for advice, the engrained drive to dominate impossible to suppress entirely even when the impulse wasn't even needed anymore, even though it might as well be redundant. It was an old feeling, hard to swallow down and impossible to explain, but Max would know — Alex had seen it in his face almost every weekend in 2020, a satisfaction that was innate.

“Thanks, mate,” Alex says instead, letting sarcasm bleed into his voice. “We can reminisce about the time you lapped me at Barcelona, sounds great.”

“Maybe,” Max says, bumping his shoulder into Alex’s lightheartedly. “That was a fun race.”

It hadn’t been a fun race for Alex. It had been a nightmare, the car snapping going into every corner, uncontrollable. Just thinking about it brings a visceral memory of starting to spin out, the anxiety of being on the back foot again. He pushes the feeling down and shoves Max back, harder.

“Fun if you like looking up at the top step, I guess. You came P2, didn't you? But maybe that’s a novelty for you, these days.”

Max laughs, louder and longer than the joke deserves, and Alex can feel his skin starting to itch. Getting it out hadn’t helped at all. He just feels dramatic, and he wishes he could go back five minutes and just keep the whole thing bottled up. He’s about to say that to Max, say that they could just forget it actually, that Alex was just being an idiot — when, materialised from the other side of float, Daniel is there, and Max’s gaze swings round.

“Can I grab you for a second?” he asks Max, and Alex recognises the grin on his face—too wide and overeager. There’s an energy in his body that hasn’t been there for an age, like someone’s breathed life into him again: the prospect of the second seat.

Well good fucking luck to him, Alex thinks.

#idk what this is but i've been thinking about it so much #just like... the cycles of sports! the narratives!#and when i shuffled my gerlonso playlist it came through for me with a perfect song #if you are a logan girlie feeling tender perhaps read with caution #mv33 #aa23 #f1 rpf #tumblr fic #music shuffle prompts

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applegreenrunnerbean · 1 month ago

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Max in his F1TV interview answering if he will change anything about his driving given that he's been penalised by saying 'maybe have a drink in the pitstop during the penalty' the rb20 has unleashed something in him

#f1 #mexico gp 2024 #max verstappen #more violence incoming i fear

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artificialstardust · 9 months ago

Text

Puck You

Hockey Player!Nick Folio x Reader

WARNINGS: hockey fights, backshots, oral (f receiving), creampie, biting, drinking, missionary, excessive use of “good girl” and “fuck”, possessive Folio

You were sitting in lower bowl waiting for the game to start. Your boyfriend Nick was a forward for the Pittsburgh Penguins. They had just finished up warmups so it’d be another 15 minutes before they went back on the ice. Tonight they were playing the Carolina Hurricanes, a rival for them.

Nick had told you earlier in the day that if Sebastian Aho said one small remark during the game, he was beating his ass. You’re holding him to it knowing that he most likely will. It happens pretty well every time they play the Canes. Aho never knew how to keep his mouth shut. Within time, the boys came out and lined up for the opening and for puck-drop.

The first period went relatively smoothly. The score being 1-1 and just slightly chippy from both teams. The second period being 3-1 ____. The Canes weren’t too happy about it either. Their boys getting visibly frustrated when they played even though there was still another period left. You could see Aho starting to say some shit to the guys as well. Throwing some more shoves than the first period.

The third period was definitely the most eventful. The score being 4-2 at the ten minute mark. Aho and Nick’s lines were both out again. You could see the two yelling at each other during plays. Nick was keeping his cool the best he could, until Aho checked Guentzel into the boards pretty hard. As soon as he did, Nick had both gloves flung off and had him by the shoulder pads, gripping him by the collar. Before Aho could even get his gloves off, Nick had landed a solid hit to his cheekbone. It didn’t take but a second for Aho to get his gloves off and throw one back at him. Nick had always been pretty good at avoiding most hits towards him, Aho only being able to land a couple. Nick had managed to land a few more solid hits before Aho was on the ice. Nick skated off towards the penalty box, his cheek being split a little. His helmet was off at this point, in his hand from where he picked it up. He threw his head back and then pushed his hair back out of his face, absolutely soaked from sweat. You could tell he was still fuming. He slammed the door closed behind him, both players receiving a two minute minor for roughing.

After that, the period stayed chippy, but ended with the Pens winning 5-2. You left your seat and went to where the families could meet with the players and talked with the other hockey wives and girlfriends. Eventually the guys started walking out. Nick walked up to you, wearing the suit he walked in wearing. He pulled you into a hug and buried his face into your neck. “The son of a bitch wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. Before he thew Guentzel into the boards he started making remarks about you” he mumbled. “You know he was only saying it to get to you babe, it’s okay” you told him, wanting him to calm down. He shot you a look, silently telling you that you’d talk about it at home.

The drive home was pretty quiet. You held his hand, trying to give him comforting touches. You got home and he unlocked the front door, holding it open for you. The two of you walked inside and he couldn’t help but smirk at seeing his last name on the back of your jersey. He closed and locked the door after he walked inside, kicking his shoes off by the door. He shrugged off his blazer and rolled the sleeves of his white button up to his elbows. “Go on upstairs for me baby, I’ll be there in a second” he tells you gently, pulling you in and kissing your temple. You hum in response, kicking your shoes off and then going to your bedroom.

He walked into the kitchen, getting himself some ibuprofen to help with the dull throb from the cut on his cheek. Then he grabbed a glass and poured himself a glass of whiskey. With the glass in hand, he headed to the bedroom. By the time he made it, you had taken your pants off. You were in the attached bathroom taking your makeup off, still wearing the jersey. He walked up behind you, setting his whisky on the counter, then wrapping his arms around you. “Love seeing my name on this jersey. Another way to make sure people know your mine” he mumbles, pressing lazy kisses to your neck.

You smiled at his words and actions. “So what exactly did Aho say to you?” You asked, wanting to know. He exhaled heavily before speaking, “fucker was saying that he could take you away from me. Saying that he could fuck you better, love you better. I tried to not do anything so he would think I wasn’t bothered by it, but then he threw my boy into the boards and that’s what did it for me. So I put his ass in his place” he said lowly. You were stunned a little bit by the fact that Aho thought it was okay for him to say that during a game of all places.

You turned around in his arms, hands coming up to cup his face. You noticed the broken skin, feeling slight relief that the trainers cleaned it up a bit. “Baby, you are the only one I want. Aho is a fucking bitch that likes to run his mouth.” He smiled at your words, looking down. He looked back up at you and kissed you softly. He picked you up my the thighs, setting you on the counter. He leaned around you and grabbed his whisky, taking a drink before holding it up to your lips. You took a drink, the liquid burning down your throat, warming you up instantly. He took it back and finished the rest of the glass. His eyes darkening as he looked back down at you. “Even after you saying that, I still think you need reminded as to who owns this cute little pussy of yours sweetheart” he grumbles against your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses.

He picked you up by the thighs again, carrying you to bed. He laid you down, taking his time to kiss on you. He pushes the jersey up, seeing that you already took your bra off. He didn’t think too much of it because he knows you like to sleep the jersey from time to time. He grins to himself, then leans down to swipe his tongue over your nipple. His hand moving to grope your other breast. Fingers rolling the hardened nipple between them. He nips and sucks on the underside of your breast, drawing whines out from you. He switches sides and does the same to the other. Before he pulls off, he bites gently at your nipple, drawing a small cry from you.

He sits back on his heels then looks at you, his hands on the waistband of your panties. “Can I take these off baby?” He asks. He’d always been adamant about asking to take them off, even when you told him he could just do it. You nodded your head, replying a verbal yes to him, Nick pulls them off, putting them in the pocket of his slacks. He puts his hand on your inner knee, spreading your legs gently. A blush spreading across your cheeks as he stares at your pussy, licking his lips. He leans down, pressing kisses up your inner thighs, taking his time, teasing you. “So wet from me princess. You look so fucking pretty from this angle” he smirks at you, blowing air gently at your exposed cunt. The action makes you whimper, trying to close your legs a little. He holds them open and then presses a kiss to your clit. He ghosts his lips over it, looking up at you, then licks a stripe up your pussy, sucking on your clit after as he catches it in his mouth. A light moan comes from you. “Jesus Nick” you breathe out, your head laying back against the pillow, enjoying the moment. Your hand moves to rest in his hair. You can feel him smile against you, he brings his hand up, tracing his fingers around your opening, then sinking a finger inside. A groan coming from your lips from the feeling. He licks at your clit while playing with you, watching your reactions. Your grip getting slightly tighter on his hair. He adds a second finger, doing a ‘come here’ motion with them, trying to work you towards your orgasm.

Moans from the back of your throat come from you, your hips starting to move to meet his movements. “Gettin’ close for me baby? Gonna cum on my face?” He teases, already knowing the answer. You nod quickly “uh huh” you choke out. He sucks on your clit a little harder, pushing his tongue onto it repeatedly to add a little more pressure. “Cmon baby, cum for me. Give it to me, wanna taste you” he groans against you. You do as he instructs, you pull his hair and press your head back into the pillows. Your thighs clench around his head as you cum, strings of moans coming from you. “That’s it, good girl. Good fucking girl for me” he says lowly against you, tongue fucking you through your orgasm.

After the waves pass, he pulls off of you, wiping your cum off his mouth on his arm. He leans up to you and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He pulls away, letting you take his shirt off. He gets up off the bed and tugs his slacks and boxers off, then crawls back onto you. He rests his weight on you, letting you feel his cock against your stomach.

“M’gonna be so fuckin deep baby” he leans up a little bit. He puts his thumb to right above where his tip rests on you “see baby? So deep in that pretty little cunt” he mumbles against your lower neck.

You whimper as he speaks. “Nicky please, I want it” you mumble against the side of his head. He pulls back and ghosts his lips over yours, teasing you. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you baby?” He says lowly. You whine and nod your head. He grabs his dick, lining it up with you. He taps it against you, then sinks in slowly. Both of you sharing a moaning at the feeling. He gives you slow, deep thrusts, wanting you to feel every inch of him. One hand on your waist, the other against the headboard to hold himself up. “Fuck you’re perfect. Like god made you just for me” he groans, his head falling forward. His hair falling in his face.

Your hands move to grab his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. He moans into the kiss, loving the attention. “Harder Nicky, please” you beg slightly. “Yeah?” He asks, starting to fuck you harder “want me to rough you up a bit?” His thrusts are hard and deep now, his tip hitting the spot you love. “Fuck, god yes” you moan out. Your eyes closing, head leaning further into the pillows. He leans down and starts to nip and bite at your neck. The hand that rested on your waist moving to hike your leg up over his hip, holding it there.

The new angle causes you to moan louder, your pussy fluttering against him. You move your hand down to play with your clit, your mouth gaping open at the added stimulation. “He could never fuck you like this. I’m the only one that can make you feel good. You’re mine. This pussy, in mine” he eventuates his last words with harder thrusts, causing you to moan louder. “Just you Nick, only you” you breath out.

He pulls out and flips you onto your stomach. Before you even have time to whine about feeling empty, he’s filling you back up again. Fucking you how he wants to. His thrusts are desperate, hard and fast. The jersey falling to gather around your waist. He places his hand between your shoulder blades and pushes your chest down to the bed. He then wraps on arm around your waist to play with your clit, the other holding your hip, pulling you back into him. He watches as your ass ripples with each thrust. He’s drinking in the sounds of your moans and whines, getting drunk off of them.

“God you look so pretty like this. Fucked out look on your face, my jersey on you, my cock deep inside of you. Wish I could see it everyday baby” he groans. He brings his hand off your hip and lands a smack against your ass, gripping onto it. You start fucking yourself back onto him “m’so close baby” you say. “Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock like the good girl you are princess? Give it to me, lemme feel it” he groans. Almost instantly, you grip the sheets in your hands, fucking yourself back against him more as your orgasm takes over you. Whines and moans rip from your chest. “Fuck Nicky, oh my god” you cry out. Nick moans as he feels you clamp down onto him. He fucks you through your orgasm, then puts both hands on your hips, fucking you roughly, chasing his orgasm. “God baby, where do you want me?” He asks. His breathing becoming labored. “Inside baby. Want you to fill me up” you moan out. As soon as you say the word, his chest is pressed against your back as he gives a few sloppy thrusts, cumming deep inside of you. He’s whining in your ear, working himself through it.

He stays there for a few minutes, catching his breath. He leans up, pushing his hair out of his face, then watches as he pulls out, groaning when he sees his cum leak out of you. He gives your ass another smack, grabbing onto it. “God I’ll never get tired of seeing that” he chuckles to himself.

He gets off the bed and tells you he’ll be right back. He comes back after a few minutes with a couple bottles of water, some snacks, and a warm washcloth. He helps you to lay on your back, then cleans you up. He hands you the water, already having the cap off of it for you. He kisses your forehead then goes and grabs a fresh pair of panties for you, helping you put them on. He cleans himself off, then pulls on a pair of sweats. “Doing okay baby? Is there anything else you want?” He asks, wanting to make sure his girl is good. “Yeah baby, I’m okay. I would love if you came back to bed though” you smile at him. A grin forms on his face and he crawls back into bed with you. You move to cuddle up to him, laying on his chest. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing another loving kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, Aho could never do that shit” you laugh. He leans his head back and groans then laughs with you. “Jesus, enough about that bitch” he jokes, then tilts your chin up to kiss you. “You know I love you right?” He asks against your lips. “The most.”

#nick folio #nick folio smut #bad omens #noah sebastian #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson

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