#gold cup 2021

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle │ jjk - two

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - just a littleeee (read: mostly) smut... fingering, titty sucking (his fave <3), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (female), creampie, post-creampie-pussy-eating, cum swapping, a little spitting i guess, titty worship, ?? more, maybe ??, idk, you get the idea. oh, and also dangerous driving and jk being down bad within like 5 seconds flat

word count - 13.4k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

Jungkook's cheeks are red, his nose blushed from the chill of the wind by the time you reach his place. It's just on the outskirts of town, past the jewellers' district and out towards the station, and it has you wondering why he's always getting fuel from your neck of the woods. It seems inconvenient, and if you were sober, you'd be questioning it. 

Sober, you might have even made assumptions about it.

Hell, you know you would be making assumptions about it.

But you're not sober, and he's got a hold on your hand like you're one of the priceless jewels in the windows you've just walked past.

You're gold dust; a diamond in amongst the rough of downtown Daegu.

In fact, he's holding you so tightly that it's almost as if there's a price on your head, and he wants to be the one to reap the rewards. No sharing. His, all his.

He doesn't loosen his grip on your hand as he begins to punch in the code to his apartment door. It's steel, and robust, hiding everything that Jungkook is behind it. You don't know him, not really - not like you want to - but there's something so painfully intimate about being invited into his space. Has you thinking that maybe you'll get the chance to know him. For a few hours, at least.

The lock beeps, a mechanical whir sounding as the bolt retracts, but he pauses as he puts pressure down on the handle.

"Can you, like, close your eyes?" He grimaces, glancing back around at you. His tongue is tipsy, about to make admissions he never would do sober. "I left in a rush, and there are clothes everywhere 'cause I couldn't decide what to wear and I-"

"Wait, wait, wait," you grin, eyes centred on his. "Did someone get pre-date nerves?"

Jungkook presses his eyes shut, smiling as he rolls his head back. He's never nervous. Always cool, calm, collected - but he can hear your little drunk giggles, and his heart rate is up, and shit, he thinks he might be nervous.

He knows he was nervous before he left. 

"I just-" he says with a frustrated groan, too exasperated to finish his sentence before he starts laughing, too. 

You're both a little tipsy, swaying, drawing closer to one another. It's innate, the way your body leans into his, with zero resistance from Jungkook as your hands grip the front of his coat for support.

"Shuuuush," he whispers, all giddy and coy, holding his index finger to your lips. It's almost as if he gives a fuck about his neighbours.

He doesn't.

He's just using it as an excuse to get closer to you.

"You shush!" You whisper back, mirroring his actions and holding your finger to his lips, too. 

His smile is so big that his dimples are on full display. They're as deep as his eyes are dark, and you just know he must have broken his fair share of hearts in the past. His hands cup your jaw, thumbs resting on the edges of your smile as if he's framing a work of art. He'd argue that he is. 

You look so dainty in his hold, and he finds himself overwhelmed with the need to savour your pretty little laugh. It'll taste just like his, but he doesn't care. Thinks it'll be sweeter coming from your lips. 

And, so, somewhere between your simpering laugh and his darting eyes, as a flickering light in his hallway beats in unison with your hearts, his lips find yours. 

He's still telling you to shush as he does so, and you tell him it back -  but neither of you actually shush until your tongues are in each other's mouths. 

He fumbles the keypad of his door again, getting you both through the threshold and into his tiny studio before you can even look at the mess of clothes everywhere.

The nerves he once had are gone, because he's confident about this; about you.

The movements of your bodies bleed into one another, neither one of you taking the lead. Instead, it's as if you're a pair of figure skaters gliding through his apartment, eyes closed - not that it makes much of a difference. The lights are off, and a string of fairy lights left up since Christmas provides the only source of illumination. 

Jungkook hadn't entirely planned on stumbling home drunk with you, but he knew he'd be stumbling home in some capacity, so leaving them on had seemed like a good idea at the time. He's proven right.  

And even though this night hasn't gone exactly how he had planned, he's not complaining. Especially not when your hands begin to fumble with his jacket. You undo it, push it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. 

Casual arrogance graces his lips as he smirks against you, unbuttoning the top of your skirt.

"I don't fuck on first dates," you tell him, but you don't stop him as he pushes the black denim over your hips and lets it fall to the floor. In fact, you're kind of giving him mixed signals as you reach for his belt, sliding the leather through its buckle.

"We've had, like, 300 GS25 dates," he mumbles into your lips between kisses, so casually that it's almost believable.

He pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it to the floor, and grabs your face just to kiss you again as soon as he can. 

It's about now, just after he's finished evaluating your 'dating' history, that you notice the pressure of two small metal balls flicking against your tongue. They're evenly spaced across the centre of his own tongue, and the mere acknowledgement of them has your legs clenching together. The lip ring was bad enough, but a tongue piercing? Fuck. 

He smiles as you moan into his lips, and assures you: "I think it's okay if we fuck."

Your hands are in his hair, his gripping onto your waistline before he rids you of your sweater, and all you can do is nod. Playing hard to get is a game for fools, and you're not really sure why you tried it in the first place. You're gonna be winning either way.

"Yeah, you're right," you mumble into his mouth. "We're basically married."

He laughs, and for a second you think that he must have been made by the Gods. It's the only way to explain how a human could be created so heavenly, even when they're about to commit enough sins to send them straight down to the pits.

"Happy honeymoon," he smirks, assisting you as you begin to push his jeans past his ass and down his thighs. Teamwork makes the dream work, after all.

You're both in your underwear, yet neither of you have even looked at the other's bodies yet. Too preoccupied. Too eager. Too consumed by the overwhelming need to feel one another.

His skin is warm, but the ridges of his torso are so hard that you'd be forgiven for thinking he's carved from stone.

Nudging his parted lips against yours, you gasp as his fingers curl in your hair.  Jungkook just claims your breaths as his own, pressing his lips firmly shut against yours.

One hand clasps your throat, keeping you secure, as the other trails up your thighs.

"Sure you wanna consummate this marriage?" He asks a little breathlessly, playing on the narrative you built up for this moment, just checking before he does anything he can't take back.

But you're impatient, and you don't think you could be any clearer even if you tried.

"Oh my god," you whine. "Just finger me already." 

Your words have him laughing all over again. He likes this, likes that you're not afraid to ask for what you want. He hadn't expected anything less, but it's satisfying to have his assumptions proven right. He kind of gets why you like making so many of them, now.

He fumbles about a little bit, not bothering to turn on the lights. It's not his first rodeo, and he doesn't think it's yours either - in fact, he knows it isn't. You wouldn't be so bold if it was. He doesn't embarrass easy, and knows that there are lessons to be learned with every new woman he acquaints himself with. You're no exception. 

"Gotta tell me what you like," he notes as he presses a kiss against your neck, the smell of your perfume so divine that he thinks you must be some kind of lorelei. It's like a meeting of black cherry and vanilla, but when his nose nestles into your hair, he can smell gasoline - and he thinks it might just be the hottest thing about you. 

You hum a response, the anticipation causing your heart to beat a mile a minute. He pushes the lace of your underwear to the side, his middle finger running between your folds. You're slick from his kisses alone, but so is he is. As you palm at the bulge in his pants, you can feel the wetness of precum leaking from his tip. He wants this just as much as you do.

"You can do better, little miss clutch control," he teases you. "Speak up."

Part of you wants to kick him in the balls. He's so sexy but so fucking annoying - he can hear how much you're enjoying his touch. He doesn't need confirmation - he just wants the gratification of hearing you say it. It's a power trip for him. You don't like giving men power.

"I like it when you shut the fuck up," you reply, hands in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. If your words won't do it, then at least your lips will. The vibration of his laugh hums into your mouth, before he pulls away - only by an inch or so.

"That's more like it."

His lips return to yours, as quickly as they left, while he continues to roam. His fingers stay in your underwear, the very tip of his index finger mapping you out. Your body shudders when he brushes your clit, the direct contact a little too much.

He dips down to your entrance, pauses, and says "been thinking about this since the moment I met you," and then pushes two of his fingers into your cunt.

Your walls are tight and hot, but oh-so fucking wet. There's nothing about your pussy that he doesn't love. His thick knuckles are celestial inside of you, just as cosmic as the reflection of his fairy lights in his eyes, and you find yourself thinking that maybe those tattooed hands of his are something special, after all.

"Bra off," he husks, and you do as you're told. He'd have done it himself, but his hands are a little preoccupied. 

He adjusts the pair of you as your bra hits the floor, encouraging your legs around his waist.  Hoisting you up before you really have a chance to comprehend what he's doing, you're pretty certain that this is just an excuse to display his strength. You're impressed, so it's working, but you're also unable to really think about anything other than the way he feels inside of you.

Your back is against the wall, the weight of his body keeping you pinned in position as he fucks his fingers into you. There's no real calculation to his movements, just an awareness that he absolutely cannot fuck you yet. He'll simply finish too quickly. 

It's not that he doesn't enjoy a quickie - truth be told, he finds them far more convenient - it's just that it would be mortifying. 

He's not sure he'd actually be able to show up at the gas station ever again if you heard him whine like a little bitch and unload himself in five seconds flat.

Equally, he doesn't want you to dread his car coming into the forecourt. 

He wants you daydreaming about him, all hazy-eyed, like you are when you're drunk, waiting for his car to roll in. He wants you musing about the way his tongue feels against your neck, and your coworker asking why you're smiling so much. He wants you blushing as you try to think of a justification, and he wants you excusing yourself to go to the bathroom to sort out the wetness pooling in your underwear. 

So, yeah. A quickie simply won't do.

He grips onto the side of your neck with his spare hand as he sinks his fingers into your pussy again. The way you gasp is like music to his ears, every single one of his senses overrun by the entity that you are. 

It's mutual though. You're consumed by everything that he is; his scent, the sound of his laboured grunts, the taste of his tongue and the feel of his hands all over your body. The only sense he isn't violating is your sight - but it's only 'cause he's making you feel so good that your eyes are forced to rest shut. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, exclusively watches you. He marvels at the way your head leans back against the wall, neck exposed for him to leave a trail of pretty purple bruises. He knows he shouldn't. Knows he shouldn't leave a single mark on your skin. Knows better than to leave evidence of his crimes, but it's a sin he thinks he'd quite like to commit over and over again.

You're pretty good at faking it. A string of careless lovers, of whom you used to entertain prior to learning your worth, had helped you to perfect a moan. You can manipulate your body, make your chest heave with exertion, your pussy throb around their fingers, their cocks. You can make it leak, get yourself looking like a fucking mess for them, as if it's because of them. It's a fine art. 

Botticelli would admire you, you think. His Venus couldn't compete with you. Femme fatal; a kisser of jaws, a killer of the men you have to let down gently because they fall too in love with you for your liking. Understandably, given what you can do. You've mastered it. Mastered men.

And it's for this reason, that you don't fake anymore. If someone isn't pleasing you, you let them know. You view it as a way of helping humanity - or their future girlfriends, at least. Why waste time letting someone else think they're getting you off, when it's you doing all the hard work?

You'd gone into this prepared; ready to remedy what would inevitably be a disappointing shag with a near stranger.

But you're not throbbing around Jungkook's fingers - you're trembling. There's no self-made stutter in your chest, but there's one a little lower down, one that you've got absolutely no jurisdiction over. Y'see, the way you're gasping, like you're struggling against a riptide, caught in the wave that is Jeon Jungkook, can't be faked. 

It's what has him smirking as he puts pressure behind the kisses he's placing on your neck. It's the fact that every time you try and speak, even if it's just a curse or the sound of his name, it's cut short. You've no control. Fuck all. It's all on him, on account of him being inside you. If he's learnt anything about you in the short time that he's known you, it's that you're never speechless. Always getting that last word in. 

But you can't even formulate one now, his fingers pumping into you at such a speed, that the lewd wet noise is almost louder than your moans. Almost.

Jungkook isn't a jealous kind of guy, especially not when it comes to casual hookups - but he kind of thinks he's jealous of his own fucking fingers. 

Every single part of him wants your pussy; his tongue, his cock. You feel so good around him that he regrets not making a move sooner. Should have asked to fuck you as soon as you started talking about his car on his first visit to the gas station. Lord knows he thought about it.

His lips are on yours, not really kissing you, resting open, his breaths heavy and laboured. The way he's pushing into you, deeper, deeper, has you mirroring his expression, small moans pouring into his mouth. He wants to eat them up, devour them, use them as fuel.

You loosen the grip you have in his pale hair, gripping onto his neck with one hand, the other falling to his bicep. He likes the scratch of your nails against his bare skin, but there's a distance between you both that he wants to close. He pulls his hand from beneath your ass, relying on his core strength alone to keep you pressed into the wall, and reaches for your fingers. Intertwining them, he places his hand, with yours beneath it, back against the wall, above your head. 

The change in position has your chest lifting, almost as if your tits are begging to have his lips around them - and who is he to refuse?

His tongue finds your nipple, flicking against the hardened nub before sucking it between his lips. The vibration of his studs against your sensitive bud has your back arching. He sucks you further into his mouth, tongue lapping against you, before he releases your nipple - but it's so puffy, and wet, and perfect, and fuck- he can't help himself, teasing at it again with his tongue. 

So fixated on how you feel in his mouth, he's forgotten that he meant to be fucking you. His cock throbs beneath his boxers, as his fingers are kept warm by your walls, slick wetness creaming around the base of his knuckles and dripping down his palm.

His apartment is small, so it only takes him a moment to move you from the wall and toss you down into his sheets. There's a waft of his fabric conditioner as he does so, floral and soft. It's hard to imagine a man so broad, so handsome, so god damn irresistible, paying any attention to laundry - but you suppose it must just add to his charm.

"C'mere," you whine, as he takes a moment to take in the sight of you. Missing the way he feels, you pull him down onto the bed -  but he's scared that even just rutting against you will have him spilling himself all over your stomach. Instead, he places himself beside you, and gets to work.

There's a familiarity now, his mouth taking your nipple again, wet and wanting, as his fingers toy with your pussy. He's not sure which he prefers, your pussy or tits, but he's more than happy to play with them both. His thumb presses on your swollen clit, and you writhe beneath him. "You like that, huh?"

You try and respond, but his thumb begins to rub languid circles against you. If you couldn't muster a word before, then like fuck can you speak now.

"Huh?" he teases, teeth grazing your hardened nipple, now. His finger strokes at your walls as he sinks into you once more, on the hunt for something that no one has ever been able to find, except you. The way your legs are tensing lets him know he's close. 

"I asked if you like that." He's only a knuckle deep, stroking pretty little circles against your walls. Closer. You whine. "Don't go all shy on me now, doll."

Your body writhes beneath his, toes curling, teeth digging down on his shoulder in a failed attempt at keeping quiet. He hopes you'll leave a mark. His thumb presses a little harder against your clit, encircling it with pressure so deep that you're almost certain you'll die from his touch.

"Don't stop," is all you can manage. "Don't stop- fuck."

"Better," he says, pressing a kiss into your neck. You can feel his precum leaking onto your thigh, and the idea of him dirtying you has you insatiable. He can tell you're at his level now, so close to finishing that it won't be embarrassing when he's done in five-seconds-flat -  but the way you're putty in his hands has him unable to stop himself. He's gotta make you cum. Needs to. 

He presses his thumb down, fingers up, as if he's pinching them together, and then he's stroking and - "Oh, fuck it. Right there. Right fucking there." - he's found it. 

He's fucking found it, the little ridge in your pussy that up until now has been just for you. You've lied before, told guys they've hit your g-spot and faked a little something that convinces them of it - but it's never been like this. Ever. Not even when you find it. 

Jungkook follows your commands. He won't stop, doesn't stop, not even when your nails grab at his wrist because the pleasure is so unbearable, so intense, that it fucking hurts. 

"Like that," you encourage, knowing your grip probably says otherwise. "Like that, fuck."

He does as he's told, and keeps like that, lips latching onto your nipple, sucking just as hard as his fingers are massaging. The slickness of your walls compared with the texture of your g-spot has him going insane. He doesn't think it's his first time finding such a sacred spot, but it's never been this easy, and the reaction has never been this good. 

You moan out his name, 'cause he's all you can think about. Any and all articulation of your pleasure goes on him.

"Yeah, baby?" he asks, forgetting that he doesn't know you nearly well enough to be addressing you like that, but he doesn't slow down. You just moan. He can call you whatever the fuck he wants at this point. It's too good. Too much.

"Kook, I-" you try, but your hips are bucking, and there's fuck all you can do to stop it.

"Just a little more, baby," he promises you. 

He will make you cum. Will do whatever it takes, if needs be. The tip of his cock is red and leaky against your thigh, ready to fuck into you, but he doesn't give a shit. Your walls are hot. Burning hot. And then they're throbbing, and your torso begins to tense. You whisper his name like a secret prayer, legs trying to close around the welcome intrusion of his hand. 

"That's it," he keens. "Cum for me, doll. All over my fingers. That's it."

You're fucking mewling as your body shudders against his. There's no dignity left in your body. It's pooling in the palm of his hand, slick and slippery, just where he wants it.

"You're unreal," he hums, drawing the last of your little death from you. "Fucking insane, babe. So fucking hot."

Turns out the Grim Reaper had made an appearance that evening, just in the form of a 6-foot adonis, who knows his way around a pussy like he does a bloody electric switchboard. 

You're panting, and so is he, his lips curving against your skin. Neither of you speaks for a minute, both casually aware that it - this, the night - isn't over yet. 

And then Jungkook just thinks to hell with acting coy, or playing it cool. You're naked in his bed, and so is he. No point in beating around the bush (unless you're into it).

"Wanna eat you out," he says as he presses a kiss into your neck, placing himself more centrally over you. Your chest is still heaving, and the thought of cumming again makes you feel all dizzy. His elbows are rested by your head, cock stiff against your tummy. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his pretty blonde hair. "Wanna fuck you first, though."

There's a logistical step to be taken there. You're on birth control, and the subject of regularly testing had come up during a particularly suggestive conversation over dinner. You both know he'll be fucking you raw - which means he's finishing raw, too.

"But-"

"I don't care," he mumbles into your lips, a little rough, claiming them as his own. He really doesn't give a fuck if it means eating his own cum. Not like he hasn't done it before. He's probably just gonna spit it into your mouth, anyways.

He pulls his hips back to line himself up. The tip of his cock nudges into you slowly, gently, and then he eases himself forward. It burns, the thickness of his shaft spreading you in a way that his fingers couldn't. It's bliss. Divine. Heavenly, and yet absolute sin. 

He revels in the way you feel, for a moment, letting your walls stretch before he sinks into you fully. You curse as he does so, the pain overridden by pleasure. His hips begin to pick up pace, eyes on yours to make sure that you're okay as he ploughs into you. 

It's like he's digging for diamonds, almost. Funny thing is, when you gasp, eyes all wide and focused on his, it's looks like he's found them in your eyes. It's just the reflection of his fairy lights, but the illusion fools him.

Looking at you is too much for him to handle, so Jungkook kisses you as his hips begin to stall. He really wasn't kidding when he figured he'd finish in no time at all. His brows are creased, moans muffled against your lips. His torso shudders, abdomen as tight as his balls.

"Gonna make me cum," he drowsily mewls, fucking himself into you like it's where he belongs. 

His body is clammy against yours, stamina impressive but dwindling. His thrusts are getting sloppy, and so are his kisses, but you kind of love it like this; Jungkook so out of control he isn't even trying to keep a pace anymore. The rhythm of your body beneath his, the way he fits inside of you, how soft and warm your tits are as they pillow against his chest, it's all too much for him. 

He's so deep he's practically kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, and yet he still hooks your leg over his elbow. He needs to be deeper. 

"Gonna make me cum so much. You want that, huh? Wanna be the reason I cum?" he grunts, and then his words become needy. "Tell me you want it, doll. Tell me."

He licks into your mouth, toying with your tongue before you even get a chance to respond.

"Don't want it," you pant, his harsh thrusts interrupting your words. He's about to be offended, all needy and pouty while he's buried inside you, but you're biting down on your lip and - oh, god - he's obsessed. "Need it. Cum for me. Want it so bad."

He smiles against your cheek as his hips move languidly between your legs. One of his hands comes down to your hip to help him control himself, but he can't. Not when he can feel you smiling, too. He laughs a little, soft and mellow against your skin - and when you do the same thing back, Jungkook knows he's absolutely done for.

"I'm gonna-" he rasps, unable to finish his sentence. "Where? Where do you want me?"

You don't say anything, just tighten the grip of your legs around his waist. You're a fucking mess, mentally, physically. He's ruined you in every sense of the word.

"Sure?"

"Sure," you pant against his skin, before repeating your earlier claim. "Need it. Need you."

It's a lie. You don't. You barely know him - but you feel so in tune, so aligned, when he's inside you that it feels like your pussy is the only place his cum deserves to be. It'd be wasted on your tits (though Jungkook would definitely disagree).

"God," he groans. "Don't say shit like that."

Jungkook has severely underestimated just how much of a little bitch you can be.

"Like what?" you pout as his thrusts get even sloppier, his skin slapping against yours. "What can't I say? How much I need you?"

He curses your name, lips showering you in pretty kisses. His tongue finds its home inside your mouth, but it's just an attempt to shut you up. A pretty good one, in all fairness. The way his studs feel against your tongue has you dripping around the base of his cock.

You can hear it; Jungkook slipping in and out of your soaked pussy like you're fire and he's ice.

"Need you," you simper again, just to fuck with him a little more. "Need to feel you fill me up."

"You want it that bad, huh?"

He pulls himself back a little, sitting up on his heels, holding onto your hips as he fucks himself into you. Your tits pillow on your chest, bouncing in time with his thrusts, hypnotising him, almost. You're smiling as your forearms cover your eyes, a little shameful of being caught in such a compromising position, but loving it nonetheless.

"Looking a little shy, there," he says, but his tone is so low it almost sounds like a growl. You pull your arms away, and he's amazed that you can still manage to raise a brow and throw him a pissed off glare even when he's balls deep in you. Truth be told, it just makes him want you even more. He's fond as he smiles at you. "There she is."

Even if you can't fake your orgasms for him, you can still fake annoyance.

"You gonna cum, or what?" You sigh, and then he's laughing, sinking back down, elbows either side of your head as he kisses you. "All men do is lie."

"Not gonna cum," he says, and you're right - it is a lie. "Just gonna keep fucking you forever."

"I have work tomorrow."

"Fuck if I care," he sinks his tongue back into your mouth, briefly, just to remind you who's really in control here. "Said I'll fuck you forever, so forever it is."

There's a bell chiming in your tummy, and you're not able to convince yourself that it's just another building orgasm. It's still him, though, in a round about way.

"We're not allowed to bring our pets to work," you deadpan. "No can do."

Jungkook stops thrusting, and pulls his head back, almost to look at you in disbelief. He's smiling, and he's so desperately turned on that his balls fucking hurt, but he's never been more perplexed in bed. You're equal parts a siren and a little shit.

You're grinning too, pleased to have rendered him speechless. "What is it, huh? Cat got your tongue?"

He smirks, now. "Nah. Not yet. But it will."

And then he's back at it, hips erratic, building such a pace that you can't even think, let alone come out with some dumb remark.  

"Still need it, huh?" He recites your words back to you, voice raspy and hushed, so close it feels like his body could give out at any second. He's edging himself, trying to make it last just a little bit longer, but it's so wet, and you're so fucking tight, and he's throbbing, and grunting and - fuck - it's so fucking good he might just die. 

"You're gonna look so pretty when I fill you up," he moans, before correcting himself. "Already pretty. So fucking pretty."

His hips slap against yours, once, twice, and then it's happening. 

He buries himself in you, body tense as a shiver runs down his spine. Your nails dig into his back, a hushed whine escaping from his mouth and getting lost in your hair. 

His cock unloads thick creamy spurts with every stroke of your pussy, coating you with the very essence of everything that he is. It's overindulgent and unrestrained. Fuck if it isn't the most full you've ever felt, ropes of thick cum spurting into you like he was built to fucking breed.

He pumps himself gently inside you for a moment or so, just to ease the remainder of his hot cum into you. The sound is lewd as he adjusts, his job very much done.

Neither of you speak for a moment, hedonism taking heed. The way his heart beats in his chest is unlike anything you've ever felt before. In fact, you're almost in a state of shock, and so is he.

Only for a moment, though. He's not actually done yet.

Your first orgasm was cute - but there's no way he's letting you see him that pathetic, that weak, without making sure you end up in the exact same state. 

He presses a few kisses to your damp neck, laughing softly. "Get what you wanted?"

Looking at you, brown eyes all big and sparkling, he pulls his torso back up, ass resting on his heels, before checking the state of his cock as he withdraws himself. 

You're smiling as you watch him stare at where the pair of you meet with such devotion that it's hard not to feel a little enamoured with him. Even if it is just a casual fuck.

"Got what I wanted." Your voice is light and airy, like you're a Disney princess waking up from centuries of slumber. Might not have had true loves kiss, but you bet none of them has ever had a fuck like Jungkook. 

You pout a little when he finishes pulling out, sad to have lost the feeling of fullness. He catches your expression, and smiles. 

"Cute," he says a little mindlessly, articulating a thought that wasn't meant to be shared.

"Shut up," you reply, embarrassed, but he doesn't mind. Not in the slightest. In fact, he loves that you didn't want him to leave. Kind of wishes that he could have kept his cock buried inside you, instead.

But Jungkook is a man of convictions, and a firm believer that he'll simply die if he can't eat you out.

You sort of think the moment has passed, that it was something he said in the heat of the moment. Figure now he's orgasmed, he's finished - but Jungkook is an endurance athlete, not a sprinter. There's still a hurdle left to jump.

He presses your legs apart so that he can look at you. Your hole is creamy and fucked out, his load slowly seeping out of you with every beat of your heart. His fingers dip just beneath your entrance, collecting his cum on them, before he pushes it back into you. He doesn't look at you, just your cunt, as he says, "told you you'd look pretty full of my cum."

The way he's staring at you, like a man who hasn't eaten for days being presented with a three course meal, has you feeling all hot and bothered.

You're satisfied. The sex you just had was enough. More than enough - but you're getting weak at the knees again, his desire infectious. You can't remember a time you've ever wanted someone as badly as you want him. Not for any deeper reason than the selfish fact that he makes you feel good. It's pure lust, no romance about it.

His fingers continue to push his cum into you, stroking up and down your walls, applying just enough pressure to let you know he's there.

He moves his body back, keeping his fingers snug inside you - and then he lowers his body, just a couple of inches from you. His breath feels cold against the slick wetness covering your pussy. 

"Also told you I wanted to eat you," he adds, as if you need reminding.

His spare hand strokes down the inside of your thigh before it reaches your hot core, and he begins to toy with your pussy. He spreads your lips open, just like he did your legs, and then he's studying you. Figuring out ways he can get your squirming. 

The first initial contact is brief; the tip of his tongue licking across the top of your clit. A parched moan escapes your lips, and he smiles. "There?"

"There," you moan, eyes closed, head pushed back into his pillows. 

He does it again, tongue a little flatter, a little firmer. You feel his piercing against you this time, smooth and hard. Your clit is snug between the two studs, like it was made to be there. He does it again. Wetter, deeper. And again. Slower, harder - and then his speed builds. 

He licks up and down across your clit, rolling it beneath his tongue, once, twice- and then you lose count, so lost in ecstasy that all you can think about is his tongue lapping at your cum-filled cunt, plugged with his fingers.

Occasionally, he sucks gently on your clit, just to earn a little extra moan from you. It works every single time.

You're leaking around his fingers at this point, so close to cumming again that it's impossible to keep your legs open. He feels the pressure of your thighs against his head, and it only serves to encourage him. His speed builds, both his tongue and his fingers meeting with your pussy at such divine speeds that you're sure you'll cum in such an undignified manner that'll he'll perhaps regret his choices.

As your muscles begin to tense, his head in a literal death grip, he smiles, dimples deep and lips pretty against your pussy. Jungkook is utterly enthralled with how it feels to have his face between your thighs. 

He keeps his eyes closed, letting himself experience the sensations of your body completely unadulterated. If he could see you, he'd be so obsessed with the view that he might not savour you in the way that he wants to. He wants to taste you, to smell you, to feel how soft and warm you are. If he wasn't obsessed before (which he was), then he definitely is, now.

The pressure builds, his tongue lapping against you, one of your hands tangled in his messy blonde hair, the other holding one of your boobs for a little moral support. 

You're too far gone to even let him know you're about to come undone all over again. He knows, though. He can feel you pulsing, and then you're gasping, and panting, and mewling and fuck, he loves the way you sound.

Your muscles throb as he brings you to orgasm. It's so undignified that you're certain you'll never cum like this again. Your abdomen flexes involuntarily, making sure your orgasm is signed, sealed, delivered to you. He pushes your legs apart again, glancing up towards you as he licks one final stripe up your exposed mess.

You ignore the slick on his fingers that's now coating your thigh as he spreads them apart, too busy with the fact his chin is soaked, hair a mess, nose blushed. He's watching your entrance seep; a mixture of himself and you. 

It's hard to know what belongs to who, but as he dips down and licks it up with the tip of his pointed tongue, the ownership is clear. It doesn't matter whose is whose, because your pussy belongs to him, now. 

It's all his. 

He gathers the creamy slick on his tongue, and then he pulls on your hand to encourage you into a sitting position.

You're putty in his hands, doing whatever he tells you, which is albeit very little. In fact, he doesn't say anything - just looks at your lips, then your eyes, and clasps your jaw. 

He opens his mouth and pools his tongue, letting the mess that you've both made sit prettily in his mouth, dancing over his studs. He nods gently, moving his thumb from your jaw to your pillowy bottom lip, pressing down on it. 

Open. 

He's insatiable. Wants his cum on your tongue, but wants yours on his, too.

You spread your lips apart, eyes exclusively on his. Your tongue flicks against his thumb.

And then you nod.

Please.

Jungkook is slow in his approach, tentative as he holds your jaw, bringing your closer to him. His tongue licks into your mouth, swiping against yours, swapping his cum between the pair of you. It's a languid exchange, slow and sensual, neither of you caring for the boundaries that are being crossed. 

He pulls away from you, hand gripping your jaw again. You open your mouth instinctively, just like he wants you to. Neither of you pay any attention to his phone, which is flashing on the floor next to his bed. 

Spit gathers in his mouth, rinsing himself of the pair of you as he draws you closer to him, your mouth still resting open. He spits directly into it. You whimper a little as he does so, his grip on your jaw keeping your mouth open for him to observe just how messy it is; all thanks to him.

"Swallow," he tells you, easing his grip, and so you do. 

Lips closed, you swallow everything; his spit, his cum, your cum, all of it. When he grips your jaw again, you know the drill, but it doesn't stop him from commanding you. 

"Open."

He's pleased when you do, mouth all pretty and clean for him to ruin again - but instead, he just kisses you softly, hands on your cheeks, pushing your bodies back down into his sheets. There's a tenderness to the way in which he touches you; as if he realises you sacrificed a little dignity for him, so he's trying to restore it.

He's hard again - had never really softened, in all honesty - but he's too sensitive to do anything about it.

"Stay," he mumbles against your lips. Your hands are in his hair, keeping him close, as your legs wrap around his waist. "Stay the night. Wanna wake up to this."

You moan into his lips. His cock is firmly pressed into your stomach, his naked body warm against yours. 

There's something about the weight of his body, the firmness of his muscular chest against the soft pillow of your own, that is unrivalled by any other sleeping arrangement you could think of.

And despite knowing exactly what he's saying, and being far too skeptical to think he means anything other than sex, you still choose to toy with him a little.

"Wake up to what?" You purr into his lips, aware that your hips are languidly rolling against him again. 

He kisses down your neck, laughing softly to himself. His smile vibrates against your skin, and, for a moment, it's your favourite feeling in the whole entire world.

"To you."

You're pretty sure he can feel the way your pulse skips a beat in your neck. But again, you're difficult. And this arrangement definitely isn't anything more than just sex.

"You mean to my pussy, right?"

He presses pretty little kisses back up your neck, along your jaw and into your lips. They're cute. Kind. Romantic, even. 

"Oh, a hundred percent," he grins against your lips, and then you're laughing too.

"You're so mean," you pout, as if you weren't the one to put the words into his mouth. There's a dimple etched into his cheek, eyes all hazy and sparkling as he shakes his head. He thinks you look adorable when you pout. So damn cute. He steals another kiss, and protests.

"Made you cum twice," Jungkook says, and has the audacity to scrunch his nose, acting all cute and shit. You're embarrassed, bringing your hands from his hair to cover your face, which you just know is flaming red. "I think that's actually pretty nice of me." 

He pulls one of your hands away from your face, and kisses your knuckles. His smile matches yours - because while yes, you're embarrassed, you're still riding the post-fuck high, too.

"You also spat in mouth," you remind him, and then he's cringing. Jekyll and Hyde have nothing on Jungkook when it comes to him and, well, him in bed. "That's not very nice."

He covers his eyes with his hands, but his teeth are still on show, smile prevailing. "Shut up."

And then he's kissing you again, 'cause fuck it, he just can't stop himself. 

It's been a while since he last got like this. In fact, he probably hasn't been this giddy post-fuck since he was a teenager. He's normally in the shower by this point, ridding himself of whoever he's been inside - but he doesn't have the compulsion to do that with you.

He knows that when he breaks from the spell you've cast upon him, he'll be back to reality. The fairy dust will settle on the ground like ashes, and the magic that once was will become nothing but malice.

There's a bridge to be crossed.

Jungkook has been fixing it up - repairing the cracks, making it sturdy - but he's not sure he wants what's on the other side, anymore. Not when you're in his bed, not when he can feel your chest wobble with every little laugh you do, and not when your nails are tenderly scratching at his scalp.

See, he likes being on this side of the bridge. Likes being with you.

But if he doesn't cross it, the trolls beneath it will inevitably come for him.

And so he asks you to stay again, but this time he says it like he means it.

"I want you to stay with me," he speaks quietly, rolling off of you and curling up beside you, reaching for the duvet that ended up at the end of his bed. He brings it back over your bodies, as if he's locking you in. You have to stay now.

You turn to face him, curling up too, mirroring him. Your fingers delicately tuck strands of his beautiful blonde hair behind his ear, ignoring the way his eyes are focused on you. Instead, you watch your hand as it moves, curiously touched by the fact he wants you to stay. You don't peg him as guy who often wants a girl to stay.

You're right to assume that.

Right to assume that he normally doesn't do this.

One night stands? Yeah, sure. He's had a handful - but never at his place. He doesn't like inviting people back to his apartment. It feels too personal. He likes being able to leave. He doesn't do the whole waking up together thing - no matter how much he likes morning sex (of which he does ( a LOT)).

But Jungkook's thinking about that bridge again.

He's thinking about the fact he knows shouldn't be at home right now.

He's thinking about the fact that you should be at home right now.

He's thinking about the fact his phone is on silent, and that Namjoon is probably cursing him out on voicemail right now.

But then you kiss him, and for a moment, he forgets again.

"I get grouchy when I'm hungover," you warn him, giving him an out, just in case he wants to retract his offer.

"Mhmm," he hums, pulling you into his chest. Your legs intertwine as he squeezes you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're grouchy when you're not hungover."

You laugh, cheeks plump and full, resting right where his heart is pumping a little faster than usual.

"You're lucky you're a good fuck, or else I'd be out of that door ASAP."

It's a lie, and you both know it.

"Thank god for my cock," he says, grinning like an absolute twat. 

He decides that he's still really drunk. It's the only way to explain how his body feels all disjointed but perfectly together at the same time.

"Thank god for your cock."

────────────

You're still awake as the sun begins to rise. He's mumbling, saying something about how a town in Alaska has a cat for a mayor, while your head rests on his bare chest.

He's a little clammy, the smell of sex stuck to him. Neither of you have showered yet. You enjoy the way your bodies are a little sticky, skin on skin, as if you're made for his bed; for him.

Every now and again, his hands roam out of the realm of safety, and you find your breath hitching, toes curling, lips parting. It's always accompanied by the sound of an airy smirk from Jungkook.

You learn that he's obsessed with your chest. Your tits, more specifically. So pillowy, so soft. A gift bestowed upon you from Venus herself, he thinks, or at least he would, if he knew who Venus was.

He just wants to hold them forever. In his hands, in his mouth, he doesn't care. He'll put his dick between them too, eventually. Another time. He's too sensitive right now. But definitely one day, and definitely soon.

A little sunlight pours in, and you watch speckles of dust as they dance around in the air. When he laughs, soft and serene in the hazy atmosphere of a post-fuck come down, it's nice. You imagine that you'd quite like to do this again. You hope he feels the same.

"Just think it's funny," he says, toying with your fingers. "How a cat can do a better job than fully grown men."

"Pussy power," you smile, and so does he, before he presses a kiss into your hair. It still smells like gasoline and he still thinks it's the sexiest thing in the world. It's funny, 'cause if you knew it smelt that way, you'd feel insecure about it. It's why he doesn't mention it. Doesn't want you withdrawing from his touch.

He nestles down, shifts his naked body beneath his duvet but keeps you close. His legs interlock with yours and his lips find a home on the curve of your shoulder. "I'm really glad you said yes."

The comment seems out of the blue, but it's not. Your thoughts have been echoing in his mind, too. It sounds a lot like vulnerability. To him, it feels more like he's laying down a safety net. Making his intentions clear. Doesn't want you second-guessing. Not this, at least. He knows the way you like to theorise.

"You didn't really give me a choice," you rib, as if that chime isn't back in your diaphragm.

He squeezes you tightly. "Don't say that. You could have said no."

You shuffle down, tilt your head, and press a kiss into his chest, just between his pecks. Sweet like honey, your lips trail across, placing delicate kisses in pride of place.

His firm muscle; one, two. His dark nipple; a flick of your tongue, one, two. Just above his beating heart; one, two, three.

Your lips feather across his collarbone and land where tattoo leaks ever so slightly onto the top of his chest. You sign the art with your kisses like the ultimate thief. Stolen. Yours, now.

"You'd have still shown up regardless."

And you're right, he would have done.

Not for any grand romantic gesture, nor to coerce you into something you didn't want. He's just got a job to do, that's all.

He doesn't respond, but you don't really notice.

By the time you're dressed and leaving his apartment, the 503 is running. He offers to pay for your fare, but you tell him that it's fine, and hop on the bus as if your insides don't burn. It's been a while since you had a workout that vigorous.

There are a few old women and a middle-aged man in a business suit taking the same journey as you.

Your cheeks flush crimson when you start to think about the ache in the pit of your stomach, right beneath that little chime that likes to ding every now and again. That feeling? The one that made you quietly gasp as you sat down? That's Jungkook.

The acknowledgement ruminates. It's insidious. Has you feeling all dirty.

You wonder if they know. The people on the bus, the one's sat around you. They couldn't possibly know, not really, but you brood over the notion that you give off an aura; one that says you've just been fucked by the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes upon.

You wonder if the old ladies glance at you and long for the days when they'd go home with strangers.

You wonder if the middle-aged man is responding to the pheromones you're releasing without realising it, cock a little plump in his pants.

It's a morbid curiosity, but one that makes you feel all hot, and sticky, and sordid. Makes you feel good, too. A little dangerous. A little bit like you wanna get off the 503 and leg it back to Jungkook's place.

It has you reaching for your phone, pulling up kakaotalk and clicking through on your most recent contact. There's still a message at the top of your thread, warning about spam, or fraud, or whatever it is. You don't read it. Too busy typing away.

You're about to press send on a poorly thought out message when your phone vibrates in your palm. You pause. Cringe. Are aware that Jungkook will have seen how quickly you read his own message that's just come through to you.

꾹:  i wanna do that again.

You: the galbi or the sex?

꾹: both.

꾹: mainly the sex, though.

꾹: the galbi i can take or leave.

Your legs press together, and realise you're squirming in your seat. It's subtle, but anyone who's looking at you must know.

You: funny, im the opposite.

You:  id die for the galbi.

You:  sex was alright.

꾹: wow, a glowing review.

꾹: can i add it to my tinder profile?

Like fuck you can, you think to yourself. If he's still active on tinder after the night you had together, you'll do the reasonable thing and learn witchcraft just so you can hex him. You tell yourself you're just joking, but honestly, the idea is tempting.

You: uh-huh.

You: you can put it right beneath a bullet point where you let them know how much you like eating your own cum :)

꾹:  technically, you ate it.

꾹: i just delivered it :)

You: thank you for your services.

꾹: any time.

You: tonight?

꾹: please.

And so he arrives at the gas station just before nine, hood up, angelic strands of blonde hair tickling over his eyes. He's got a mask on, like he usually does, a black turtle neck resting prettily around his throat. An earth-toned flannel shirt peeks out from the bottom of his jacket, where the hem meets a pair of black jeans. He has a charm about him that makes the world stop turning for a moment when you first look at him.

He's not really sure how to greet you. With a kiss? A high five? Neither of these seems like a good idea, so he just does an awkward half-bow, which leaves cringing.

"Just gotta cash up," you smile from behind the kiosk. "You walked?"

He shakes his head. "Parked around the corner again. Didn't wanna block the forecourt."

It's a reasonable enough excuse, even if a little weird. You finish what you're doing, cash up, give Jieun the keys (and ignore the way she's grinning at you) and then toss your jacket over your shoulders. He walks beside you as you leave the store, popping your hood up again just like he did the night before. "It's windy."

The forecast said it would rain, too, but Jungkook doesn't know this. Doesn't actually give a shit about the weather. Just needs excuses to put your hood up.

"So I've been thinking," he says as you make your way to the side lane.

"Dangerous," you quip, but he ignores it - though he does nudge you a little. You let your body move in accordance with his, swaying back into him slightly. Like a swinging pendulum, you're about to recoil, but Jungkook's arm drapes around your shoulders, keeping you close. The scent of his clothes is a mix of fresh cotton and WD-40. It makes you laugh, how much a walking juxtaposition he really is.

"I've been thinking," he reinforces, and pauses just in case you're planning on interrupting again - but you don't. You want to hear his thoughts. All of them. No matter how big or small. "What if... What if we skip the sex tonight?"

You don't respond immediately, walking around to the passenger's side of his car. He clicks down on his key, opening up the locks. The lights flood your features, illuminating you in warm hues, reds and oranges, as if to send Jungkook a warning: she's dangerous.

"Skip the sex?" You raise a brow, ignoring the butterfly atrium that has spontaneously constructed beneath your ribs. "You lured me here under false pretences, Mr Gimbap."

He doesn't question the nickname. Figures he'll find out its origins this evening. After all, all he wants to do is talk.

Talk about you, where you come from, where you plan on going. He wants to know more; what makes you tick, your favourite chocolate bar wrapper joke, if you really meant what you said about not fucking on first dates. Wants to know if he's special. Wants to know if he gets to you the same way you do to him.

He'll ask you about your favourite Shakespeare play, and he'll hope that you'll say Romeo & Juliet. It's the only one he's read.

You'll tell him that it's not a representation of love, and he'll say he knows. He doesn't - he just won't want you to think that he bases his idea of romance on such ill-fated endeavours. Thinks it's about stars-crossing, illicit affairs, love that prevails. Shit like that.

He isn't really sure what it all means, but he's seen the Baz Luhrmann adaptation, and that's enough.

You'll say that Romeo is an ass, and he'll feign offence and tell you that you'll never be his Juliet. It'll earn him a laugh from you. That's fine; you never wanted to be her.

You're a Beatrice in search of her Benedict, after all - and the way that the pair of you bicker, it seems like you might have just found him - even if he does think he's a Romeo. Twat.

"I didn't," he laughs in response to your earlier statement. "I just like to know the girls I'm sticking my dick in, that's all."

"Ohh, romance," you whistle through pursed lips, throwing him a coy smile.

He nods towards the buckle by your seat and tells you to do the belt up, as his key turns in the ignition. There's a small rumble, his exhaust rattling as fumes begin to bluster around the end of the pipe. He's listening again, revving the engine ever so gently, foot on the throttle.

The way he cares for his motor makes you laugh. He's so temperate, so careful - but you know he abuses the engine like no tomorrow whenever he races it. He treats it almost as if it's a racehorse; something with actual feelings.

You do as you're told, clicking the belt into place, and remind him to do the same.

"The girls?" You question as he passes you the aux. "Multiple?"

There's a static click as you plug it into your phone, before your playlist starts up again. His hands move like machines, smooth and automatic as he slips into first gear.

"The girls," he echoes, eyes flicking up to the rear-view mirror, and then over his shoulder to check the blind spots, before easing onto the main road.

"Charming," you say dryly.

It's not like you hadn't assumed this already. You had already decided that he at least had a friend with benefits lurking about (even if she had become too clingy (actually, no, especially if she had become too clingy)).

You'd figured that it was where he had been on the night that he was a no show - but then he'd shown up all apologetic and shit. You had let his innocent eyes win your skeptical mind over.

"Guys aren't really my thing," he follows up, sensing your discomfort. He knows he's beating around the bush, not giving you the answer that you want - and he also knows that you're getting in your head about it. Knows you'll be questioning what he means, and if he's sleeping with anyone else. He'd be within his right to. You barely know each other. Where he sticks his dick isn't really any of your business. "And I'm hardly a virgin, am I?"

"Gasp," you say. "You're not?! Could have fooled me."

He's smiling again.

You like how much he does that around you. Wonder if he's like that around other girls, too.

"Was I really that bad?" He flirts.

Jungkook knows how to fuck. He's been given enough positive reviews to know that he's anything but bad. Although... he kinda is. But in a good way. In the way that you want him to be bad.

"I've had better."

Liar.

"Ouch," he laughs as he presses down on his indicator for the next left. "Guess I'll just have to keep practising."

City lights cascade over the pair of you as his car rolls through the quiet streets, splintering like refractions of a mirror ball. He hates that he has to keep his eyes on the road. Wants to drink in the way you look almost as much as he wants to drink up the way you taste again. The night is dark, the moon hiding behind a fluffy cloud that looks like charcoal cotton candy beneath its radiant light. Jungkook loves nights like these; likes them even better with you in his passenger seat.

Green flashes over your features as he passes beneath a traffic light. You cross your legs, adjusting your posture. It's so subtle that you don't even realise you're doing it - but Jungkook does.

"On your other girls?"

There she is, he thinks. It's what he's been waiting for. Confirmation that the idea of him fucking other girls irritates you. He reaches across and taps your knee. He enjoys the predictability of you.

You resist the gentle nudge of his hand, the pads of his thumb and fingers resting on your kneecap. Your legs remain crossed, just as his hand remains on your knee. The stretch of road you're on is straight, requiring no gear change for a little while. He can play this game, if you really want him to.

"No," he says. There's pressure beneath his fingertips now. "Be a waste of time, wouldn't it? Everyone's different. If I wanna get better at fucking you, specifically, then I gotta keep fucking you."

He's not wrong. You can't fault his logic, and in all honesty, the way he's talking is so abrasive, so raw, that it's got you feeling all hot and bothered again. He may as well be stroking your pussy, not your knee, with the impact he's having on you.

His grip tightens, then pulls your knee back over. Commanding, not requesting. Your legs part for him, because of course they do. There's something about knowing he has options, knowing that he could be with someone else, but is choosing to be with you that gives you a little ego boost.

"Maybe I've changed my mind," you feign indifference, but Jungkook knows there's a handful of feelings beneath your words. "Maybe I don't wanna fuck you anymore."

He strokes his broad palm along the inside of your thigh. It's warm, wrapped in the sheer nylon cover of tights, and he'd obsessed with the way they feel. So smooth, so soft, so perfectly pristine. He wonders if you're making a mess of them. Hopes you are.

"I don't like maybes," he says. "Either you wanna fuck me or you don't."

"I don't like fucking boys who fuck other girls."

"Who said I was fucking other girls?" he smirks, and lets his hand trail a little further up. He squeezes the flesh of your thigh, getting a feel for you.

"You did."

"No," he corrects. "I said I've fucked other girls. Past tense. Never said I'm currently fucking other girls. You really gotta stop making assumptions, little Miss Clutch Control."

"I hate you," you say with a smile, and you really do mean it.

"I like girls who hate me. Makes the sex so much hotter."

"Despise you."

"Ugh," he grins, as he lets his hand reach the top of your thigh. He squeezes again, and you hum a little moan for him. "Doesn't sound like you hate me."

You giggle, soft and serene in the safety of his car. Reaching a junction, he pulls his hand back to change gear. You're at a four-way intersection, the light only just hitting amber, so he reckons he has a least a couple of minutes to toy with you.

When his hand returns to your thigh, just like you hoped it would, it's beneath your skirt. Right at the top. Right where it belongs. The pressure beneath his palm is firm, fingers sinking into the softness of your leg.

"But I do," you say, voice quiet, anticipation lacing your breath.

His pinky finger stretches out a little, just to stoke over the mound that rests between your legs. He can already feel the heat, but what surprises him - and excites him - is the slick that's seeped through your panties and onto the outer side of your tights.

"Doesn't feel like you hate me, either."

"No?" You toy. "Feel again."

And so he does. He points his index and middle finger, and holds them flat against you. They're instantly met with a slippery mess. He slides them up and down, once, twice, three times, and then cups your pussy with his palm. You're fucking pulsing in his touch.

"See?" You speak as if you don't wanna whine his name. "Loathe you."

"So you do," he mumbles as he presses his palm tight against you, inhaling sharply as he does so. One glance at his lap and you can tell he's just as turned on as you are. His cock is solid beneath his trousers, jeans tight, keeping him concealed. Part of you feels a little bad. Looks painful. He's too big to be confined by such unforgiving material.

"Still wanna skip the sex?"

Jungkook presses in index finger against where he can feel your entrance is. You're so wet that his fingers are already coated in everything that you are. He wants more. Wants your tights gone. Wants his fingers inside you.

But he's a stubborn asshole, and hates being proven wrong.

"Sex?" he pulls his fingers back, and rests the heel of his palm on the top of his steering wheel. They're covered in your juices. He considers licking them clean, but figures that might be a bit too brash - and then thinks fuck it, and does it anyway. There's a sweetness to your taste, one that has him holding back a moan. Absolutely fucking divine. You don't even realise that you're staring at his hands - the way they sink into his mouth - until he pulls them back out. He looks at you. Shrugs. "Yeah. Not really in the mood."

"Thank god," you say, not skipping a beat. Even when your need to fuck him is so intense that it manifests into a physical form and leaks onto his passenger seat, you're still able to bicker with him. It satisfies him like nothing else. Makes his cock so hard. "Me either."

The light turns to green, his hand is back on his gear stick. You stick to looking out the window, not favouring looking at him. The temptation to palm his crotch is overwhelming, but you're just as stubborn as he is. If you've said you don't wanna fuck, then you're damn well gonna act like you don't wanna fuck, until you simply can't take it anymore.

"Glad we agree," he says. "So let's talk."

You half wonder if this was his plan all along. You actually do think you hate him - but only cause he makes you feel weak. You don't enjoy that feeling, but you enjoy him.

"I'm an open book," you lie.

He flicks his eyes to the rearview and mutters under his breath, "shit."

"What is it?" you glance over your shoulder, noticing a pair of headlights flashing Jungkook. You can't make the car out. Its lamps are on full-beam. Blinding.

Jungkook leans over, the fingers that had been stroking against your pussy now pressing down into your buckle. There's a click as it releases, before he moves down and pulls up on the lever by the front of your seat, dragging you forward.

"Get in the back," he says, as if he isn't still driving. You go to question him, but he cuts you off. "In the back. Now. Middle seat."

You stare for a second, until he glances over to you, jaw tense, with no hint of a smile. "Don't argue with me, now. Middle seat. C'mon."

"Kook-"

"Now."

And as unsafe as it feels, you find yourself twisting, hands gripping onto the back of the passenger seat as you bring your legs up to crouch.

"Quickly, babe," he says, his hand reaching over to tap your ass gently. Your back is to the windshield, and Jungkook's terrified that the fucker behind him isn't gonna wait for a respectable start - but he's also anxiously aware of the fact he isn't explaining himself to you, and that it's gonna make you hesitant. "Please. Trust me."

And so you do. You wobble a little as your leg dips over the centre console, his hand still on your ass to keep you stable.

"That's it," he encourages. You make your way into the back, a little squeal as you leap soundtracking the move. "Seat belt. Now."

The leather of the backseat is cold against your tight-covered thighs, legs pressed together, feet firmly on the raised centre of the footwell. You do as you're told, all rather quickly.

"Hands on the seats," he tells you again, and you don't question it, even though it's all that you want to do. There's a time and a place for bickering with him, and while it's the perfect place, the urgency of his commands suggest that now isn't the right time. You grip onto the seats in front of you, and Jungkook reaches up to feel your hand, just to make sure it's where he wants it. His hand is clammy and warm, safe against yours. He lingers for a second, not wanting to lose the way your feel against his skin. "Hold tight."

He slows to a near stop, and you almost laugh when you realise where you are. That fucking bridge, again. The car behind you pulls up beside him, but it's hard to make it out through his back windows. They're so intensely tinted that all you can figure out is the rough shape. "Is that-"

"Yep," he cuts you off, knowing what you'll ask. "Car from the last time. It's cool. I got this. I will warn you, though, he's a little pissed with me at the moment."

"A little?"

You can hear the engine revving. Sounds more than just a little pissed.

"We're friends. It's okay."

Friends is a loose description. It would have been the right term, once. Jungkook thinks of him more as a colleague these days. A pain in his ass.

"Doesn't sound very friendly."

"I'ma need you to be quiet, babe," he says, voice soft. He isn't trying to be rude, he just needs to concentrate. Needs to win this. Needs to get Namjoon off his back. Needs to get you away from, well, here.

"Noted."

Jungkook watches the lights. It's how races like these work; the impromptu kind that first got him acquainted with Namjoon. They wait for the lights to shift, throttle teasing on amber, rubber-burning on green.

His gaze is on the lights and the lights only. The leather binding of his wheel almost squeaks as he grips against it, shoulders rolling back ever so slightly. Glancing over to the black SsangYong, he nods, and then his eyes are back on the lights. The lack of a flagger has never bothered them. In fact, Jungkook prefers racing without one. Fewer variables. Less chance of things going wrong. He knows the time of the lights. Trusts them. Trusts his muscle memory to do the hard work for him.

You can feel that chime in your stomach again - but it's different this time. It's a warning bell. The kind that tells you to get out of the situation you're in. Fat fucking chance.

There's a purr as the lights flicker into amber, Jungkook's rev count building. The sound of the SsangYong rips through the windows, letting you know just how powerful it is. Ain't no way Jungkook's fucking Pony is beating it. His grip adjusts, foot sinking further down onto his throttle. He builds it, 2, 3, 4 - and then the light is green.

The way Jungkook moves is as if he's at one with his car.

His movements are slick, well-oiled.

There's no hesitation, just an innate understanding of what needs to be done. His car tears from the starting line, and you forget all about the SsangYong he's racing.

It's hard to think about anything at all, in all honesty. Hard to comprehend the speed he's built so quickly; the control he has. There's a rush pulsing through you that you haven't felt since, well, ever. You don't enjoy racing, not really. You hate it whenever Yoongi rags his car about, but you trust him.

And you find yourself trusting Jungkook, too.

Maybe it's because you've already seen him tame his car when it's been out of control, or maybe it's because you've already trusted him with your body, so what difference does your life make?

His tyres are almost silent, moving at such a pace that there's no chance for anything to reverb. He grunts a little, pushing the car up to fifth, building, building and then -

"Corner," he braces you.

You're pretty certain you're going to throw up.

It's a route that Jungkook knows well, just a short circuit, over the bridge, sharp left out along the riverside road until they reach Kang's. Same every time. Hasn't yet thought about what he's gonna do when he gets there. Just knows he has to get there first to buy himself a little time.

He knocks the car into neutral, clutch down, brakes too, and then he's turning the wheel just a little. Not too sharp. Doesn't wanna oversteer. He coasts it round the bend, knowing better than to be in neutral, but he isn't thinking about that right now. He's thinking about the fact that Namjoon's car is fucking faster, and he needs every gain he can get.

Your hands grip into the padding of his seats, desperately trying to stop yourself from toppling over. Elbows locked, it's hard to determine the sheer amount of force you're putting behind your bones.

There's a screech as the tyres burn against the road, no doubt leaving thick black streaks on the tarmac. You're so used to seeing them on your way to work that you never really consider how they get there. Now you know.

He pummels the car forward, knocking it back into third, and then up into fourth. It's a miscalculation. Should have jumped right up into fifth - but he can lament that later.

He corrects his mistake. Strikes it into fifth. Namjoon is trailing. Jungkook has got this.

Eyes hard against the horizon line, Jungkook has no time to think. He flicks his eyes up to the rearview, catching sight of the SsangYong's bonnet. He's miles ahead.

Well, no. Not even a metre - but it may as well be miles. He just needs to keep up this pace.

Foot to the floor, he's tanking it. The shops you dart past become a blur of neon lights, nothing for your eyes to absorb other than the chaos of light beneath a dark sky. In the distance, you see Kang's.

"Shit," he hisses as the light at the intersection ahead begins to flash amber.

"Hold on," he says, as if you've even thought about letting go. Hands clammy from nerves, you adjust your grip. Tighter. So tight, your nails will leave prints in his leather.

He pushes further, further, further, but the lights are flashing quicker, quicker, quicker. "C'mon, beauty. C'mon."

He hits the junction line.

The lights are still amber.

And then he switches from gas to clutch. Easy does it.

Jungkook pulls the handbrake up. Clicks it into place. Pulls the car round with a single hand on his steering wheel.

He has full control over the vehicle as it roars into position right in the middle of the cross-section.

There's a blaring horn sounding behind you - but it's not directed at the Pony.

It's directed at the SsangYong, which has screeched to a halt. The oncoming traffic has been set free, lights fully changed. Jungkook made it just in time.

"He's stuck," you tell Jungkook, head over your shoulder, making sure that the SsangYong hasn't moved. "Can't get past the traffic. You're good."

You expect Jungkook to ease off the throttle, but he doesn't. He takes a sharp right instead, and begins to tunnel down back allies. Right, then left. Then left again, and another right. Takes so many rogue turns that you don't even know which direction you're facing in by the time he comes to a stop. It's been nearly five minutes since you lost the SsangYong - and yet he just won't ease off the gas. Not until he's certain Namjoon isn't lurking in the shadows of his exhaust fumes.

By the time he does eventually stop, his chest is heaving. Breathless.

You're down a back alley, across the other side of town. You don't recognise it.

Pressing down into the buckle, you undo your belt and clamber forward into the passenger seat again, feet up, body facing towards him.

He doesn't look at you for a while. Just stares ahead. Inhale, exhale. You can see his jugular vein beating.

"Hey," you reach out to his wrist, and stroke on his arm gently. He doesn't respond instantly. Just lets his eyes close. It's nice, the way you're so gentle with him, he thinks. So nice. So soothing.

And then his body acts before his mind does. He pulls on your wrist, grip firm, as his other hand pushes down the lever by the front of his seat. Weight on his feet, he pushes himself back, making space for you in his lap.

The way you clamber over the centre console is less than elegant, but he doesn't care. Just needs you on his thighs. Needs to suffocate in the scent of your gasoline tainted hair, and taste the sweetness of your tongue in his mouth. Needs to remember everything that you are, so he can forget who he is.

His hungry lips find yours, a hand in your hair, the other on your cheek.

There's really not enough room, your legs straddled over his, trapped by the door on one side, the gear stick on the other. It's tight and claustrophobic, but he likes it. Likes how ensnared he is by you. Wants to be even more trapped.

He licks against your lips and begs for permission to enter - as if you'd ever refuse. His tongue strokes against yours, the studs you'd (somehow) forgotten about making you whimper. He's rough and aggressive with his kisses, the adrenaline manifesting itself in the form of intimacy.

"I lied," he says breathlessly. "About the sex. I want it. Let me fuck you."

He wants to lose himself in you. Needs to.

"Backseat?" you moan into his lips as he begins to encourage the movement of your hips against his painfully hard crotch.

"Backseat."

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #boxer!jungkook #mafia!jungkook #throttle #byholly #jungkook fluff #angst #smut #jungkook x y/n

[sunnys-out]

Coming Back to Me | Kyra Cooney-Cross

A/N: based on this prompt list. Prompt 19: I still need you.

Angst w/happy ending (I couldn't do it to Kyra let's be real)

Warnings: Parental abuse, yelling, gaslighting

Word Count: 1325

You wouldn’t have known that something was off after we won against the Olympic gold medalist, Canada 4-0.

What had happened the night before? Nothing…Nothing was wrong…nothing was different in the eyes of the public. 

Kyra still kept up with the appearances and held my hand and smiled at me when the fans were within eyeline and then immediately dropped both once we got to the locker room. It didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team when we both refused to look at one another during team talks.

Kerr tried to talk to me, like a good captain should, but I waved her away sternly, saying “t’s fine, leave us alone”. 

In all reality, it wasn’t fine. Kyra and I had a fight in the late hours before this important game.

My mother never liked Kyra, well she never liked anyone I had ever dated no matter how much they made me happy. Kyra came into my life and after 1 ½ years of dating I had proposed at the beginning of the year…that one increased the amount of vitriol my mother threw at Kyra whenever she would call me not caring if Kyra was within earshot.

My mother “cared” about my career and well controlled it ever since I was little. Every club team was intentional, every camp was important, and my identity became just the sport. Meeting Kyra and falling in love with her was something my mother didn’t want because that meant she was losing her grip on me. 

I had previously been with Olympique Lyonnais for a time and that was something my mother hated. She constantly said that I was doing this all to make her unhappy even though she was doing what was best for me. The move to Arsenal, after some time away in France, was seen as a good move by everyone but it was my mother, who was the “happiest” at my decision…because I was back on track with what she wanted me to be.

I had gotten closer to Kyra at our first Australian camps together back in 2021. We even debuted together in the game against Denmark, grinning to each other as we both took the pitch. She was what I wanted and needed and the returning of myself came so quickly that I didn’t even recognize who I was but I loved it.

My mother caught wind of it as the fans did. While fans were filling my instagram with comments of congratulations or love for our new relationship…my mother was behind it all screaming that I didn’t care for my career and that Kyra was going to destroy everything.

I tried my hardest to hide all of that from Kyra for the longest time, and wanted to enjoy my time with her. 

The way that she snuggled her face into my neck in pictures, how she was my biggest cheerleader when I failed on the pitch, the way that she attempted to make my favorite food and nearly burned our kitchen down, me carrying her on my back to the locker room because she was tired, our holidays together, the nights we spent together…she was everything to me. 

It obviously didn’t last…Kyra was strong but she bore the brunt of it after our 1st year anniversary even though I tried my best to defend her. My mother didn’t care and blamed Kyra for every one of my failures, calling her a distraction, that her Australian call up was nothing in comparison to mine and her career would never reach that of mine. 

Kyra, justifiably, had enough after my mother called me the night before the Canada game. She finally was able to get through to my cell phone after complete radio silence from me since the World Cup started. She had found out about the engagement and screamed for Kyra to get onto the phone. 

After 40 minutes, Kyra looked at me almost angry, “ (y/n), I don’t know how much of this I can take…I really don’t” Before I knew it, we were fighting in our hotel room, she argued that I had to let go of my mother and I argued that my mother has done so much for me that Kyra wouldn’t have understood…I know that it was all manipulation on my mother’s part but when you’ve lived it your whole life it’s hard to actually come to terms with it. 

It ended with Kyra leaving the room, saying “Maybe your mum was right…you don’t need me” and electing to go to Steph’s instead. I didn’t follow her…I should’ve but, like a coward, I only whispered to myself..

“I still need you though, Kyra”

______________________________________________________________

A hand on my shoulder took me out of my thoughts, with a  fake smile on my face, I turned to see the individual in question.

“Hey Ian!” I gave the commentator in front of me a big hug.

“Amazin’ game out there. Hey I already spoke to Steph but might as well also try to rope in the future Missus, congratulations by the way. What I’m saying is we got to get Kyra to Arsenal, we get a great player and you get to have your future missus playing by your side. Told Steph I’ll call my people, just need you both to do the footwork.”

I nod the smile not fading from my face, “yeah I could do that, won’t fail you Ian”. He pats me on the back and leaves me in the tunnel. 

The universe really is cruel. At any other time, this would have been the best news in my life but I had received an email, that morning, from my manager that OL was eyeing to have me back and Kyra was still not speaking to me.

______________________________________________________________

Kyra took her engagement ring from me when the World Cup was over and we both went our separate ways. She only gave me a kiss on the cheek and went back to Sweden. No one was happier than that than my mother whom I ignored the best I could as I spoke with management both at Arsenal and OL.

Kyra arrived to sign with Arsenal in September and she made it a point to see me before she did. I had just left the office with my transfer documents in hand when she grabbed me and yelled through a whisper. 

“(y/n), I heard what you did, look I appreciate it but being on the same team is going to ruin what we have…your mum is going to explode once she finds out If I signed with Arsenal.  I can’t go through that again I-” I stop her as I show her the papers.

“I’m leaving for Olympique Lyonnais, Kyra…I don’t care what my mum thinks. I advocated for this club to sign you because you’ll have a true heart for the team that I never could because of my mum…Lyon is where my love for the game lies…and I can’t lose you, Kyra…If it means playing apart like this then so be it because I still need you in my life Kyra and Im not letting my mum take that away from me…not again.”

She looked at me and her face softened as she pulled me into a gentle kiss and leaned her forehead on mine.

“I love you so much, (y/n)” and with that I hugged her tightly.

“I love you too…and Ian Wright definitely wont once they announce my transfer in a few hours but hey they got KCC” I joke as I give her another peck on the lips.

Kyra pushed my shoulder with a roll of her eyes, “yeah and you got to answer to Caitlin, and Steph about this too”. 

Needless to say, I got some really angry texts from my friends later that evening and my mother probably…but eh who can know if you block the person on everything. 

#arsenal wfc #auswnt x reader #kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross x reader #matildas #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine

[nakanotamu]

good day madam, i am a hungry lesbian in need of your gayest wresting moments. can you spare me a cup of gay?

Anon you have come to the right person. Everything's been leading up to this. This is what it's all been for. This will probably be long.

Anon I got so excited about this I even solicited my friends for THEIR gayest moments so I'll do those first. You were recommended:

Mahiro Kiryu briefly getting a takarazuka gimmick in TJPW's Hyper Misao produced show HYPE

Giulia vs Konami from the 5 Star GP 2021, which was described as "the first match I remember watching and going OH MY GOD KONAMI AND GIULIA ARE FUCKING", and their feud did later give us a promo where Konami was like "Hey Giulia, you know how I bully you and you like it?" and Giulia was like "Ahaha, yeah?" and Konami was like "Well that's basically our entire relationship, so there you go." She did have examples.

pretty much anything with Raku/Pom Harajuku/Yuki Aino in TJPW, who my friends have lovingly dubbed the Pomycule

Okay enough from them though. You didn't ask them, you asked me and I asked them. Now for the me. I think it's important to note as well, anon, that not all of the gay shit in wrestling happens in a match, or even in the ring. Sometimes it's just shit on social media, a lot of the time it happens at press conferences, you must maintain constant vigilance. Anyway.

Whatever the fuck Syuri and Utami have going on, which I wrote about here.

There was the time Himeka kissed Syuri last year

There was Komomo enjoying getting beat up by Saki Kashima a Little Too Much, which I wrote about here.

There was the exchange between Utami and Syuri at the press conference for Stardom Gold Rush last year

There was Tam Nakano starting an entire faction to, in her own words, surround herself with women with big boobs (their focus has since shifted)

There was AliKaba, the tag team of Giulia and Syuri, which was basically just one long enactment of gay longing from Giulia

There was the time Giulia posted this picture with the caption ^-^ and then deleted it

There was the time FWC, the tag team of Hazuki and Koguma, spent 5 hours in the bath together (sadly they just talked about that I don't have pictures)

another time FWC both got matching bruises at the same time, and then later confirmed that yes they got them together. In the bath again

There were both Cosmic Rules matches at Stardom in Showcase 1 & 2 which I unfortunately don't have any great screenshots of but I'm positive were inspired by lesbian porn

There are constant small exchanges like this that don't even have a lot of context they just happen all the time

There was the time Hikari Noa had a hardcore match against Nao Kakuta and after they did this

There was the time Mina Shirakawa spat on Saya Kamitani and then licked her face

There was this shit in Act Wres Girlz, which for the record kind of depressingly does not do gay stories super frequently but has legitimately I think the highest percentage of out wrestlers I've seen in any company

There was the brief Tam Syuri feud which shockingly somehow did not involve anyone kissing but had the vibe that they were kissing mentally the entire time

There was every single exchange Tam and Natsupoi had before they realized they were still in love with each other but ESPECIALLY their cage match

And, for my money, the gay moment that lives the largest and dearest and most bittersweet in my mind was when Tam and Unagi had their singles match as part of the 5 Star GP last year, which was, unknown to us at the time, something of a farewell tour for Unagi before she went freelance, where afterwards they hugged in the ring for two minutes and then kissed.

I'm gonna cut myself off there but trust me I could go on and on and on for way too long but that's why I think you should watch for yourself. Wrestling is always moving and new gay stuff is always happening. In conclusion,

#long post #sorry I have low energy so this is just a shotgun blast of content rather than like real curation or explanation lol #I hope it works anyway #my magnum opus

[39oa]

PLS as a new stars enjoyer i really wanna know whos who in this 🥹🥹 i kill for family dynamics 🤲🤲

https://www.tumblr.com/39oa/744137614807924736/the-stars-are-like-this-is-39-yo-joe-pavelski

hi anon!!! of course i would be MORE than happy to explain and in fact am about to egregiously overexplain so apologies in advance for that >__< welcome 2 starsblr pls enjoy your stay!!! 💚💚💚

"pavs and sons" → this is our top line that consists of jason robertson (21 / "robo"), roope hintz (24 / some call him "roop", his finnish nickname is "hine"), and joe pavelski (16 / "pavs"). pavs spent over a decade in san jose and was the sharks' captain during essentially their twilight years, and he came to dallas intending to retire (which is likely to happen at the end of this year tbh) but instead revitalized a distinct second phase of his career after being placed on a line with 2124 in 2020-21, unexpectedly becoming stalwart producers for a struggling dallas stars offense (2 words: rick bowness) — robo was only in his first year with the stars and roope's career was not that much older, hence the nickname pavs and sons; although pavs is only an alternate captain because the stars already have a very established, homegrown captain, he is basically treated as our second captain thanks to his age and the vast influence he has over both our young players & the locker room as a whole :') one of his nicknames is also captain america from representing team usa on the intl stage LOL.

rest below the cut:

raising johnny -> our team's ACTUAL baby is 2003-born wyatt johnston (53 / "johnny" but sometimes we use "wyjo" lol), who was in the ohl before the 2022-23 season but managed to impress during training camp and basically forced his way onto the roster (without getting too much into it, 18-19 y/o rookies can play 9 games with the big club before burning a year off their elc, so being from the ohl at his age his only options were basically Be In The NHL Permanently or go back to ontario.) because "HE (WAS) ONLY 19!!!" and there was some uncertainty about whether he'd stay up, pavelski invited him to live at his place with his wife and teenaged-son, and now a second year into his career wyatt is STILL with them because he loves it there so much lol. the stars frequently joke about pavs being his dad/landlord, and we've gotten a ton of fun content like these quest for the stanley cup clips and other interview moments like this, this, and this.

fostering stank(s) -> logan stankoven (11 / "stank" though you will also see "stanks") is our other baby and a very recent addition to our nhl roster; he's from the same draft class as johnny, but spent last season in the whl and therefore was eligible to go to the ahl this year, where he's been cooking up a storm for half the szn. it was pretty inevitable that he'd come up at SOME point, but the perfect opportunity arrived after one of our forwards got injured and he was slotted in on short notice. like johnny, he has basically forced his way onto the team permanently by immediately performing to (and well-beyond) standard :') the fun part is that he stayed with johnny at pavs's house when he first came to dallas, though he's since moved out and found his own place... nevertheless, this was still very sweet because logan & wyatt have GENUINE history from knowing each other half their lives & winning gold for u18 team canada in 2021, and have since picked their immediate chemistry right back up on the stars's 3rd line together. (more on this later!!!)

resident glueguy tydel + otter's son -> u know how every team needs its emotional support 4th liner who is at constant threat of being dumped at trade deadline? ty dellandrea (10 / "delly" but we like "tydel" as well) is our 13oa pick who never really panned out as expected, but he's still crucial to the overall health of the locker room and beloved by many. as a small piece of the Cycle Of Mentorship that the stars subscribe to, pavs is known for basically being a deflection master and a menace in front of the net and has passed on this propensity to a lot of younger stars by doing targeted practice sessions with them, including tydel. anyway delly's lore in general is just INSANEEE because he's at the center of the stars' social fabric in a lot of ways. happily third-wheels along with the wags, gets along with the 279195 canadian slagline who mostly exist outside of any family narratives, is Publicly Liked By Roope which is kind of weird because outside of cellys roop practices jane austen levels of finnish repression, imprinted on johnny hard last year (JOINED HIM ON PAVELSKI FAMILY NIGHTS) (from this devastating webweave), has SOOO much ahl history with otter to the point that otter's baby brother sees ty as part of the family — this is also where otter saying that he and his girlfriend saw ty as their son when he stayed at their apartment during training camp comes from. which is genuinely like Absurd Things to say because jake oettinger (29 / "otter") (as a completely random aside, please look at this gifset of harls wearing otter's shirt) is ONLY 2 YEARS OLDER THAN DELLY. LIKE THE FUCK D'YOU MEAN YOUR SON???

i'm normal. okay

jbenn / "daddy" line dads -> so the stars' real captain is jamie benn (14 / multiple nicknames but "chubbs" is a signature), whoooo is a quite the contentious figure amongst stars fans but as a 2007 draftee is very much a homegrown player and still quite important to the organization. i'm ngl, stars rpf is a VERY small space nowadays in hockey fandom, but ~back in the day~ he and tyler seguin were one of The Big Ships before slowly fading as both fandom figures & stars of the team thanks to age and injury and [waves hand vaguely]. anyway while the top line on the stars has remained *mostly* set since robo was called up, the 2nd & 3rd lines still experience a decent amount of reshuffling, so wyatt is kind of jamie's fixed line son atp but they also played with tydel before we 1:1 swapped some russians and evgenii dadonov (63 / the "DADDY" in question) came in and replaced delly. so now we've had multiple "benn and sons" lines (jamie + wyatt/delly, now jamie + wyatt/logan ❗️), plus essentially a "wyatt and dads" line (wyatt + jamie/daddy) lmfao.

wedge raising harls -> robo's emotional support backup goalie is scott wedgewood (41 / "wedge" or "wedgie"), who as far as backup goalies go is like shockingly well-integrated into the stars' locker room. the piece of lore that inspired this WHOLE post is that taylor dropped an article on how wedge claimed to basically be RAISING HARLS WITH HIS (recently-married!) WIFE...??? which is just. thomas harley (55 / "harls") is one of our resident baby d-men and was in and out of the ahl for a while but has been Officially with the stars since last years' playoffs... he's a very like, self-assured but kind of introverted, Beyond-His-Years type who literally has the voice of a 50 y/o, so it's both DEVASTATING and hilarious 2 me that wedge is like "oh, this 22 y/o kid likes to show up to my house every day and me and my wife are teaching him how to cook and he keeps facetiming me to ask random questions about his bills." LIKE OH... OKAY THEN ;___;

& last but not least: the ultimate Mini Family on this team that i didn't mention in my orig post is actually the finnish mafia — see robo constantly joking about them being brothers and loving each other lol. finnmaf currently includes four players (roope, miro, esa, jani... rip kivo 😔), and they kind of help split the stars' locker room into several groups including the finns, the ontario guys, robo's goaliefucker / Nerd_Collector ensemble, and... well honestly the cliques overlap a lot (which is why our locker room is so healthy!!!) but you get the idea.

there is soooo much other lore i could get into that isn't really related to dad/son/brother narratives but i feel like this is enough of an infodump so i'll stop here for now. in general the way the stars are constructed makes it really clear why they all see one another as family and why there is such a strong & positive & sustainable sense of personal leadership that permeates the locker room... benn handles Official captain duties while pavs uses his experience not to usurp him but simply to further support him in understated areas of mentorship/leadership, and our top line consists of 3 Very unassuming & responsible player archetypes which crucially trickles down to all the other lines. so while many teams have their Old Guys (who are often on a noticeable decline) and Kid Lines, the stars are cool because we've been successful at integrating young players with very established veterans and having them feed off of each other without sacrificing their development or "anchoring" any young talent unnecessarily; benn is really not the player he used to be but he's still been great with wyatt over the past 2 years. and pavs IS a total anomaly, so it's kind of insane & surreal that a guy in his late 30s can perform at such a high level while also taking it upon himself to prepare so many of our young guys to be the present & future of our team *__*

tl;dr: also i just remembered that the amazing @starscelly has a preexisting primer from last year so feel free to check that out too :') (the primary differences are basically that we replaced domi for duchene and recently picked up chris tanev haha)

#a #ERMMMMMMMMMM. did not expect to write this much #thank u for the ask and so so so sorry once again 💔

[averagewriter-inthedark]

For The Gold 🥇 | Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Pilot/Olympian!reader x Dagger squad (platonic), slight Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Content warnings: fluff, mentions of injuries, slight profanity. Might be emotional for you so be warned| Gn!reader (They/them) | wc: 12k+

Premise: In which the 2019 TopGun Uranium detachment return to Fightertown to watch and cheer on their colleague & friend as they compete on the greatest sporting stage the world has ever seen for their last chance at Olympic glory.

Note: so I was an athlete growing up (I did gymnastics, soccer, and figure skating) and although I no longer pursue my dream of going to the Olympics (my biggest regret in life) I still get super excited when it comes around. It’s currently World Cup season & I’m hyperfixating to say the least on sports and now have these ideas of a professional athlete!reader works for the dagger squad. Let me know if you want more because I totally have ideas for other sports— especially the ones I played because I have more personal knowledge of them, but I LOVE watching the track and field and nearly went that path when I was a kid because I loved to run and was really fast (I played wing for soccer in high school and I always had people tell me I should’ve been on the track team instead). For this imagine, imagine you were born in 1990 so it would put you at age 30-31 in 2021 and just to be clear this is following the idea that the events of TGM took place in 2019 since the movie was supposed to come out around that time or 2020.

“Let’s freaking go!!!” Javy practically shouts as he claps his hands when entering The Hard Deck to a crowd of people and his friends. Eyes were already glued to the multiple TV screens Penny had set up with the help of regular patrons. There was a table filled with food set out, coolers of ice and beers donated by customers. The bar was buzzing with excitement with many sporting team USA gear and waving American flags. It was the early hours of the morning—literally 5 am and everyone in the building had slept the duration of the previous day in order to pull an all-nighter or had just woken up. They wanted to watch the event live and not the replay later that day due to the 17 hour time difference. News crews were there as well, hoping to catch everyone’s reaction.

The squad rolled their eyes at their colleague, but smiled nonetheless. They too were filled with anticipation. “How much time until their up?” Coyote asked, taking a beer before finding a place beside Hangman. The Dagger squad had arrived early to get good spots with Coyote being the last to arrive. Now there was hardly any space in some areas with the turn out. Civilians and servicemen swarmed every corner.

“About thirty or so minutes. They should be coming into the arena soon.”

Everyone from TopGun was there, including Cyclone, Warlock, Hondo, Maverick and the current aviators going through the TopGun program. Many of the former 2019 detachment had gone off to their old or new assignments, but as soon as the announcement of the team hit the news they were popping off in the group chat and booking flights to Fightertown.

So here they all were. All 12 of the special detachment that trained together for a high-risk uranium enrichment plant mission back again in the Hard Deck like the first night three ago. Rooster, Hangman, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, Fritz, Halo, Omaha, Harvard, and Yale. They were only missing one person.

The person across the Pacific Ocean who was the reason they were together to cheer on from home, and would be going for the gold in one final run.

It was the first week of August, 2021. The Games of the XXXII Olympiad in Tokyo, Japan.

What should have been held the year prior, was postponed due to the COVID-19 Pandemic. Now after years of hard work & dedications, nearly 12 thousand athletes from 206 nations around the world were gathered for the greatest sports event in history.

17 days, 339 events in 33 sports. The gold medal on the line.

For Y/n L/n, this was the moment they’d been waiting for. At 31 years old, Y/n spent their entire childhood and adolescence dreaming of the day they would walk through the tunnel of an Olympic arena to represent the USA. From the moment they could walk the track became their life. Their parents were coaches at Vanderbilt University and were the contributing factor to them pursuing the sport. And at age six, Y/n sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium in the summer of 1996 where they witnessed with awe as Micheal Johnson won the gold for the USA in the Men’s 200m & 400m sprint and Carl Lewis defended his title of the long jump champion for four consecutive Olympics. Just days prior Y/n witnessed history for USA Gymnastics when the Magnificent 7 defeated Russia for the US’s first women’s All-Around team gold medal.

It was a memorable Games, held on home soil in the city of Atlanta and with many firsts and defenders.

It was the spark of a lifelong goal for the six year old in the stands.

Blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. From an early age Y/n loved to run. But sprinting was their passion. The 100m, 200m, & 400m became their sole focus.

Everyday, sometimes twice or three times Y/n was running drills and sprints. Their day would start with an early morning jog with their dad before the sun was even out, followed by breakfast before heading to the track. From there they would stretch, run drills, and conditioning. Then they would have an hour break for lunch before doing it all over again until dinner. The day would end with another cycle of drills and conditioning. Y/n would be out of breath, sweating, and sometimes in pain.

But they were determined. Like most athletes who dedicate their lives to the international level they became homeschooled and missed out on many things a typical child or teen would experience. Though Y/n had friends it was only a select few. There was hardly time for a social life and therefore it was hard for them to form connections. It wasn’t until they got into competitions did they begin making friends with fellow competitors.

At age 10 Y/n participated in their first meet. It was a let down, but not a total loss. Sure they didn’t win a medal but they didn’t come in last and that in itself was a win in their eyes. It just made them more determined to do better and the next season they delivered by claiming a regional title. As years went by regionals became state titles and soon Y/n was a national champion at age 16. That winning season had brands reaching out to sponsor the teen, but if they were to also take a chance at an NCAA title in college then sponsorships were gonna have to wait.

2008 was the year to remember. Y/n had attended their first World Championships and although they didn’t win gold, they took the bronze and became a likely contender to make the Olympic team in the upcoming trials. They had just graduated with their diploma and had accepted a full ride to Vanderbilt University as part of their track team. What came as a big surprise to their parents was Y/n would not just be getting their degree and competing for the college team, they would also be doing the Naval ROTC program.

Unbeknownst to their family, Y/n was drawn to the world of aviation. Their grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and would tell them stories of what it was like in the air. He even had a cool callsign, ‘Viper,’ and taught at the Navy’s prestigious school for pilots. When Y/n was a child, he would take them to the air shows and teach them all about the maneuvers they were doing and even brought them to TopGun. They were in awe as he would explain all the gadgets and weapons of the F-14.

Yes, track and the Olympics was their life, but something was calling them to the skies.

“Honey, where did this come from? You never talked about joining the Navy before,” their mother said with confusion at the dinner table when Y/n explained their upcoming schedule. “If you make the team this summer I hope you’re not planning for this to be your only games. You’re so young and could easily go again for London and the 2016 games.”

“That’s still the plan, mom,” Y/n sighed, “But you remember all those stories grandpa would tell me about his pilot days? I want to do something more in case this doesn’t work out—have a backup plan per say. What if I tear my hamstring or something happens that I have to retire?” It wasn’t something they liked to think about, but with being an athlete the next meet is never guaranteed. Injuries are common—especially torn ACLs and hamstrings. Y/n had other passions besides track and wanted something there for if the worst happened.

“Y/n, if you do two years of their program you have to decide whether to commit or not and you’ll likely be commissioned when you graduate,” their father pointed out, “That means you’ll have new priorities and if you're serious about flight school that is going to cut time off the track. London is possible given it will be your last year in college—maybe we can pull some strings and have your commission pushed back if you make the team—-but I don’t think 2016 would be. You’re talking balancing a career as a Naval officer and professional athlete. That’s a lot to take on—physically and mentally.”

He had a point and Y/n knew it. London was in four years and definitely possible even if they fail to make the Beijing team. The location of 2016 had yet to be decided, but with the timing it would put Y/n four years into a possible Navy career.

Still they were wanted to make both work.

An Olympic champion and a fighter pilot.

First they had to get through 2008 and boy was it a year to remember. It fulfilled one half of the Olympic dream for Y/n: making the team and competing on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Tears streamed down their face as they embraced their parents following the end of the trials. It was a hell of a trials with Y/n competing against some of the best track stars in the country. They were completely starstruck when Allison Felix congratulated them following the announcement, Y/n remembered watching her four years prior in Athens for her Olympic debut and thought, ‘I really hope we’re teammates in Beijing.’

Unfortunately, a gold medal was not in store for the athlete. Of the three events; 100m, 200m, & 400m, Y/n only qualified for the 200m & 400m after finishing in the top two of their heat. The night of the 200m finals was a saddening with Y/n finishing fourth, just shy of a medal, but the Games were not a total loss when days later an Olympic bronze medal was placed around their neck and the American Flag rose alongside Great Britain and Jamaica’s.

And so the next four years of training for London—with Rio De Janeiro in 2016 looming around the corner—began the second they touched back on U.S soil. On top it was the pressure of securing NCAA titles not to mention A’s & B’s in their classes, while also getting through one of the top collegiate ranked NROTC programs.

It was a lot. And Y/n became burnt out at times. They had already set their name in record books at the national level, now it was time to amp up the game on the international and college level. A bronze medal would not satisfy Y/n, gold was the goal.

It all paid off by the time 2012 arrived. With a few more national titles under their belt and a World Championship in the 400m, Y/n was the talk for a gold among commentators. At the end of their collegiate career they secured several titles in their three events and managed to come out with a 3.8 cumulative GPA. In regards to the NROTC Y/n committed to the program after their second year and was set to commission that summer. The trials were around the same time as what would have been the ceremony, but after several meetings they allowed it to be postponed until after the trials. It would be some time before Y/n would be assigned an OTS due to the path they were taking with flight school and therefore it would likely not interfere with the upcoming Olympics. “Bring home the gold for us,” the officer shook their hand at the end. It filled them with nerves, but mostly perseverance, “I plan to.”

The trials were a success once again with Y/n having the honor to call themselves a two-time Olympian. The five colored rings were tattooed on their bicep, something they did immediately after Beijing that often resulted in being recognized in public, and gold was in their mind. After qualifying for all three events and earning a place on the 4x100 relay, Y/n had four chances at the gold: 3 individual and 1 team.

It was a silver lining moment in all three individual events. After failing to qualify for the 100m finals in Beijing, Y/n pulled a show stopping finish in the last heat earning them a place in the final. It was the most heat pumping 10 seconds of their life that happened in the blink of an eye. Before they knew it they were on the podium with a silver medal and the same would follow in the 200m and 400m. At the end of the 400m ceremony they were bombarded by reporters with the same question, “Y/n, what a run tonight, congratulations again this is your third medal in these games and it seems to be a silver lining moment for you. What are your thoughts?”

Still coming off the emotion from winning their fourth Olympic medal, a privilege not many could say, Y/n smiled wide, “It’s amazing really, you know I took the bronze four years ago in this event and I’m so grateful to come out with another medal—this time being silver. I couldn’t believe Monday night when I took the silver in the 100m—just making it to the finals after not qualifying in Beijing was an accomplishment and same goes for taking second in the 200m. I want to thank my parents, who are also my coaches and have been with me on this journey since the beginning. I’m just so blessed and filled with happiness tonight—I could not have done this without them.”

“You still have a chance at the gold in Wednesday’s relay. How are you feeling about that? What can we expect by the team?”

“We have such an amazing group for the relay, I’m so honored I get to represent the United States alongside them. Every one of us have worked so hard to be here and have really put our blood, sweat, and tears. Hopefully bring home the gold—I know each of us are going to give it our best.”

Y/n’s publicist from the side was signaling for them to hurry up, “One last question before you go,” the reporter quickly said. “For the people at home who have been cheering you on these past four years, can we expect you to return for Rio? I know you could very well take the gold in the relay, but are you hoping to try for an individual in the future?” This was the question Y/n had been preparing for the entire games. Having managed to keep their NROTC program hidden from the media, it troubled Y/n to reveal they would be a Navy officer by the end of the summer. It wasn’t odd for active duty members to be athletes, there were plenty who participated in the games every four years. It would just be difficult given the career path they chose and having to get all the paperwork filed for time off around meets and international competitions.

After a moment of thinking, they finally answered, “I’m very lucky I get to say I competed in these games twice now. I’m twenty-two now and will be twenty-six by the time Rio comes around—not to mention I start flight school pretty soon,” there was immediate surprise by the reporter, but Y/n continued and was quick to finish with. “I’m gonna work hard as I always do and hopefully Rio is in the cards for me. But to give a yes or no imma just say yes, that is the plan.”

Before the reporter could question the topic of flight school, Y/n was already saying goodbye and letting their publicist pull them away. The relay was in two days and was their last chance at winning a gold for the London games. Of course, Y/n was hopeful they would make the Rio team for the sake of winning an individual gold medal. There would no doubt be glory and honor if they were to win the relay, but it had been their dream since childhood to stand on the podium with a gold around their neck for one of their events.

The relay was all they ever dreamed of. A strong group with Y/n leading the first leg before handing it off, giving their teammate a great start to pull a lead against the other nations. As they were walking back to the start, their heart was racing and not just from the adrenaline…but by their teammate being the first to cross the finish line. Then there was the sound of the announcer amongst the roaring crowd, “WORLD RECORD!!!” with the USA appearing beside the #1 spot.

Y/n was screaming before they could stop themselves, “Oh my god!!” knees hit the track as they sank to the ground. They couldn’t even hear themselves by the cheers. It was a spectacular moment with Y/n pulling themselves up to run and embrace their teammates and share the glory they just made. Not only were they Olympic champions but also World Record holders of the 4x100m relay.

“The United States has taken the gold here today in the 4x100m relay and a new world record has been set thanks to the extraordinary start by Y/n L/n.” “This relay group gave it their all today, John. It was such a close call coming around on the third leg, but the Americans pulled through for a stunning finish for Olympic gold.”

With an American flag in their hand, Y/n joined their teammates beside the record projection. They were teary eyed, but held off from crying because they knew the emotion would come full heartedly on the podium. And boy did it come. The second the national anthem was playing, the first tear fell from Y/n’s eyes. The medal was heavy around their neck, but it was a reminder that they achieved the goal they set out when they were six years old.

Olympic champion.

And they got to share it with their teammates—an immense honor they would cherish till the end of time.

Y/n could barely remember all that happened following the podium ceremony. After a celebration with their parents and best friend, who flew all the way out to London to support them, they had no more events and got to rest for the remainder of the games. Closing ceremonies were spectacular. One of Y/n’s favorite moments from the Beijing games was getting to mingle with athletes from the other nations during the closing ceremonies. This time around Y/n was speechless as they got to see a Spice Girls reunion and One Direction perform.

Life became chaotic to say the least following the return from London. After winning four medals including a gold, Y/n was asked by several talk show hosts to appear for an interview. They accepted a few and were immediately bombarded with questions about the little detail they slipped after winning the silver in the 400m. “You made it known to the world that you’ll be going to flight school, was it? What can you tell us about that?”

“Well during my time at Vanderbilt, where I competed for them in the NCAA—which can I say, It’s a completely different ball field when your parents are not only your coaches for international competitions but also college meets. The energy is different, especially because they’ve been there for almost two decades now and are the definition of school spirit. Anyways, while I was there I also took the route of doing their Navy ROTC program. My grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and pretty much became my inspiration for wanting to fly—on top of being an athlete. It was something I thought long and hard about. I wasn’t sure if I would even make the London team and of course anything can happen, but I knew I wanted to go to fight school back when I competed in 2008. I actually will be commissioning once I’m done with all this post-Olympic press.”

The ceremony was a bittersweet moment. With their friends and family around them, Y/n was pinned on with the ranks of Ensign and named an officer of the United States Navy. From there were the challenges of balancing a career as both a professional athlete and naval aviator. Often were days of bad mental health and aches after overexertion. OTS & Flight school was intense but shaped Y/n in many ways. The first day they were recognized by a classmate resulting in the callsign, “Olympian,” after everyone would say, “Hey, Olympian!” when calling out to them after two straight days.

“Could’ve been worse,” Y/n chuckled after their parents were like, ‘really?’ when they told them. “I mean it could have been something like ‘Short-track,’ or ‘Goldilocks,’ if they thought about it. If I fucked up doing something then they would’ve named me something related to it. I’ll take Olympian cause that’s what I am.”

After completing flight school and receiving their first duty station, Y/n made the decision to hire a new coach. The World Championships were coming up and they did not want to uproot their parents while they were still the head coaches at Vanderbilt. At first they protested, but eventually relented on the condition that Y/n’s coach would be their former colleague. He was the former head coach of Vanderbilt when their parents were athletes themselves before becoming assistant coaches. “He is everything you need to bring your A-game these next seasons and Rio. I’ll make the call first thing in the morning and see what he says.”

The four years between London and Rio were brutal. The training with their new coach and balancing an aviation career showed more hardships than ever. Y/n proved themselves to be a talented pilot despite the struggles and eventually was invited in 2015 to attend the Navy’s prestigious Fighter Weapons School more commonly known as Top Gun. The same place their grandfather attended and taught at.

A hard decision had to be made when the invite came. The time period interfered with the track season and Y/n would not be able to defend their two-consecutive world titles in the 400m sprint. In the end, Y/n announced they would be pulling out from the 2015 season to attend Top Gun. They weighed out the pros and cons and felt it was the best route given the Olympics were a year away. If an injury were to occur then it could result in Y/n not even having the chance to do the trials. Their coach was frustrated in the beginning, as one would be after dominating the national and international meets for two years straight. He eventually put his differences aside to put focus on what Y/n needed to improve if they were to take the gold in Rio.

It was at Top Gun that Y/n met fellow naval aviator Natasha “Phoenix” Trace. They were seated next to each other in one of the many lecture rooms at Fightertown where Nat had to do a double take after recognition sparked in her. Nat was an athlete in high school and college who, like many, would sit with her family to watch the Olympics every four years. Though she didn’t run track, a sibling of hers did so they would always tune into the events when they came on. After seeing the patch reading ‘Olympian,’ Nat had to hold back her fangirling as the memory of her cheering when the US took gold in the 4x100m relay. ‘It has to be them.’ At the end of the lecture she approached Y/n with a shy smile, “I’m so sorry if this is weird for you, but are you Y/n L/n? I’m Natasha—Phoenix.”

They struck up a friendship during their time at Top Gun. The two bonded over their NCAA careers and sports in general. Nat admired Y/n for being able to balance being an athlete and aviator, for she made the difficult decision to not pursue her sport after college. What was ironic was they didn’t feel threatened by the other when going after the top spot in their class, considering they were both obviously competitive. Both had immense respect for the other, and didn’t care at the end of the day who came out on top. They both had similar hobbies outside of flying and would spend nights watching movies, going to the bars, or playing volleyball with their fellow pilots. It was a genuine friendship with Nat supporting Y/n even after they graduated from Top Gun both ranked #1 in their class.

Nat even took time off to attend the 2016 U.S. Track & Field Olympic Trials. There she witnessed Y/n, who she now called a best friend, qualify for their third consecutive Olympics. Nat never screamed louder in her life than when Y/n took the top spot on the team for their events. “Oh my God, you did it!” She hugged the athlete when it was all done. “Holy shit congratulations, Oly! This is it—this is gonna be your year!” Nat wouldn’t be in Rio, but promised to cheer Y/n from home.

Unfortunately the journey for the individual gold medal ended before it could even start. After qualifying for the 100m and 200m finals with the expectation of being part of the relay team once again, Y/n’s dream of gold crashed during the semifinals of the 400m.

Literally crashed.

Their signature event which had an Olympic bronze and silver to their name as well as several World titles, ended in catastrophe. As Y/n came up on the last leg with the final turn, Y/n had a tight lead against their main opponent. But before they could blink the athlete to their left tripped and fell to the side directly in front of them. Moving so fast and unable to stop to avoid the person, Y/n topped over and felt a searing pain in their side as they landed awkwardly.

Gasps rang out before the stadium fell silent with just the faint sound of cheers from the winners of the race. Y/n was panting, clutching onto their side as fire filled the entire right side of their body. The athlete who tripped was in tears and apologizing profusely. There was still adrenaline from the sprint as the arena stopped spinning around Y/n. Determined to cross the finish line, Y/n pulled themself up and helped their fellow athlete up, “It’s okay, c’mon. Let’s finish this.” They were crying and Y/n had their own tears from the pain in their side and leg, but they only had a few yards to go. Cradling their right arm, Y/n was practically limping alongside their opponent while struggling to breath. Each time they took a breath they were met with pain, not to mention each step had them wince.

They didn’t want to think of the extent of the injuries. The pain alone indicated it was bad. Y/n knew right there their Rio run was done for. Their lips trembled as the reality set in.

The athlete saw Y/n’s condition and immediately brought them to their side as they approached the finish line. Cheers and claps ignited the stadium. There was no doubt they were moved by the display of sportsmanship between two athletes from differing nations. Both with the same goal of Olympic glory that would not be delivered.

Y/n was swarmed by the medical staff. The athlete who tripped them kept apologizing, filled with guilt, embarrassment and shame causing injuries to the Olympian. They felt a little pain from falling but nothing to the extent Y/n had. They had practically gone flying forward and crash landed to avoid hitting their head hard on the track. Now that the adrenaline had finally worn off, Y/n was having to do everything to hold back from collapsing. Y/n embraced the athlete with a hug despite the multiple medics yelling at them, “Don’t blame yourself, it could have happened to anyone. Okay? I’m not angry with you at all.” It was true, Y/n wasn’t angry. Were they sad? Of course, their Olympics were totally over after being diagnosed with a fractured right arm, a bruised rib, mild concussion from hitting their head on the track, and a torn ACL in their right knee.

Commentators were speechless when the incident occurred, “Coming around the corner on the final stretch it’s a tight race between USA, Jamaica, and France—Oh! Oh no! Oh my goodness, there’s been a crash here ladies and gentleman and it doesn’t look good for the American Y/n L/n. Not at all, they are not moving—oh wait no they are getting up right now and helping the athlete from Poland. But L/n looks to be in pain they’re holding onto their arm and I can see they are having trouble jogging—a slight limp to their step. Now the Polish athlete has taken L/n under their arm and they are crossing the finish line to the cheers of the arena in a display that could only be described as what the Olympics is truly about. Great sportsmanship here folks. It’s unsure what L/n is feeling right now but one thing is certain, we will not get to see Y/n go for the gold in the 400m final.”

After the race when the NBC announcers live from Rio were in the studio recapping, they gave an update to Y/n’s situation.

“Breaking news we’ve just received on American Y/n L/n. After the unfortunate incident in tonight’s 400m semifinal, the 26-year-old from Nashville, Tennessee was rushed to the hospital after it was realized the injuries they sustained were more severe than what they thought. It’s being reported Y/n is in surgery for a fracture to their right arm and torn ligament in their right knee. It’s also been noted the athlete suffered a mild concussion as well as a bruised rib. Their coach has come out with a statement on behalf of L/n letting it be known they’ll not be competing in the 100 and 200m finals nor the 4x100 and 4x400m relays they were scheduled to compete in. L/n also has said they will remain in Rio to recover until after the conclusion of these Olympic Games before returning with their teammates to the States.

“The gold medalist in the team relay from four years ago has not said if they will be aiming for a shot at the 2020 games in Tokyo, Japan. L/n was the 2008 bronze medalist in the 400m dash before claiming silver medals in the 100, 200, and 400m in London as well as sharing the gold for the 4x100m relay. They were the leading contender for an individual gold in one of the events after dominating the 2013 and 2014 World Championships. The three-time Olympian pulled out from the 2015 season due to conflicting commitments after revealing in 2012 they were commissioned into the United States Navy following their time at Vanderbilt University. These games in Rio were their first international competition since the one year hiatus. We can only hope Y/n will continue their journey to an individual gold medal in Tokyo, but from those of us in the studio and on behalf of everyone watching at home, we wish Y/n L/n a speedy recovery and safe trip back to the States.”

It was a solemn week in Rio with Y/n sitting in a hospital bed and the games playing on the tv screen. Their coach was with them, as was their dad and together they cheered the US when they took the gold in several events including defending the 4x100m relay. The doctors in Rio gave Y/n a recovery period of nearly one year—the longest healing process being the torn knee. It would be nine months until Y/n could even jog on it, but the doctors recommended waiting a full year before testing it. PT was going to be a pain in the ass, but as long as they didn’t run or do sprints then Y/n would be able to do all else after everything else healed.

Their concussion lasted a couple weeks and the bruised rib took over a month to heal, as did the fractured arm. The 2017 worlds and nationals were out of the question. Thankfully Y/n was still able to fly once the concussion was gone and their arm was fully functional.

The entire year the athlete was unsure of what to do about Tokyo. All their focus was put into flying. Running missions instead of the track and being promoted to Lieutenant in 2018. That same year they decided to try for one more shot at Olympic gold by training for Tokyo. Their coach and parents were all too pleased—even Nat after Y/n called her up to ask for advice. They had a lot to work on since Y/n waited an extra six months after fully recovering. The 2018 season was unattainable so the goal was a comeback in the 2019 season gearing up for the 2020 Olympics.

Just like when Y/n was a child, blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. More times could they remember wanting to quit when their knee started to act up after a bad start off the blocks. They had more arguments with their coach which only fueled the fire. Lastly they were on intense missions that took a toll on their mental health. Nat would check in on them every once in a while, but Y/n brushed it off. This is what they signed up for. They made their bed, now they were to lay in it.

2019 nearly brought deja vu. The World Championships were held in Qatar at the end of September leading into October when Y/n got the call from Vice Admiral Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson.

“The Pentagon has tasked me with assembling a strike team for a special detachment. I’ve seen your record and I feel you have what it takes to be a possible member of this mission. Now I know your situation and it is my understanding you’re currently in Qatar, what time are you expected to be stateside?”

Y/n’s hands were shaking, dread filling them at the thought they would likely have to decline an assignment. But these championships were more imported. “The last day is the sixth, but if I qualify for the finals of all my events then I should be done by the fifth, sir.”

“That’s perfect,” his words had them sigh in relief. “The tentative date to report to North Island is the 24th. I’ll be emailing you the information at another time.”

“Yes, sir. I will be there. Thank you for informing me, sir.”

“Oh and Lieutenant?” Cyclone stopped them before they could end the call.

“Yes, sir?”

There’s a slight pause, “Good luck out there. Bring home the gold for us.”

And bring it home they did. In an amazing comeback after what could have been a career ending injury, Y/n L/n reclaimed their title as the world champion in the 400m dash. They fell short in the 200m, but left with the silver and even secured the gold for the team 4x100m & 4x400m relays. People called it the ‘comeback of the decade,’ and Y/n fell subject to a lot of media attention in the world of sports. Their publicist did their best to handle the press once they found out about Y/n’s upcoming commitment. “I won’t let a single soul find out about this, Y/n, I promise you. The devil works hard, but I work harder.”

Once stateside track was put on hold to prepare and partake for the special Top Gun detachment. Dressed in their service khaki’s, Y/n entered The Hard Deck for the first time in three years and was immediately tackled by Phoenix. “You’re here! Holy shit when did you get back?”

“Like two weeks ago, I’ve been chilling since Qatar since there were no assignments until this.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Top Gun detachment too?” Phoenix raised a brow before frowning, “Why didn’t you tell me the other day on the phone?”

Y/n gave the woman a look, “I wasn’t sure we could even mention it to people. Plus you didn’t say anything either, Phee.” They got her there, the pilot raising a hand as if to say, “touché”. By now they have drawn the attention of several other aviators, who all appeared amused by the display of affection by Natasha and were curious to know who it was that received it. One person, Bob, had their jaw dropped when it clicked who they were. Payback appeared to be deep in thought, like they recognized Y/n but couldn’t put a name to their face.

“Trace, you gonna introduce us to your friend?” the blonde aviator, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin said with a pool cue in hand. He was totally checking Y/n out with a settle drift of the eyes up and down. They didn’t look impressed but smiled to the others nonetheless.

Natasha brought the pilot over and proudly introduced them, “Fellas, this is Y/n L/n. Better known as ‘Olympian.’ One of the best damn pilots you’ll ever see. We both shared the honor of first in the class at Top Gun in 2015.” Nat then introduced all the guys and their callsigns, Y/n shaking each of their hands—Bob still appeared starstruck when they let go of his hand.

“Olympian, huh?” Hangman chuckled at the name, “That’s quite the callsign. What are you Greek? Or obsessed with mythology?” Rooster glared at the man, but also looked curious for the reason behind the Y/n’s callsign. Even their name sounded familiar. They had yet to see the tattoo on Y/n’s bicep, which now had the names Beijing XXIX, London XXX and Rio XXXI in tiny cursive below the rings.

Before Nat or Y/n could fire back at Jake, Bob dropped his cup of peanut shells. Everyone looked at him like, ‘what the hell, man?’ But Y/n started to smile, recognizing the shock in his face as though he had been right about something.

“S-sorry. Oh my God,” he stuttered with red cheeks, “You’re Y/n L/n. L-like THE Olympic gold medalist Y/n L/n. Oh my God I’ve watched you since 2008–since Beijing!” The revelation had shocked looks from everyone now besides Nat of course.

Payback suddenly jumped from his seat, “holy shit! I knew I recognized you from somewhere but couldn’t exactly figure it out for the life of me.” The man was stationed in London at the time of the Olympic Games and attended the night the US won gold in the relays. Now here is a member that he cheered on from the stands in front of him. “Wow, I was in London seven years ago—I-I saw you compete. This is fucking unreal.” Y/n laughed, shaking Payback’s hand. He was still coming down from the shock, having just crossed his mind that all over ESPN and Sportscenter the past month sportscasters were talking about Y/n’s comeback.

“Wait a minute,” Rooster pitched in, the memory of being in a bar the summer of 2016 played in his mind. In the same memory he remembered watching the 400m semifinals on the tv scream and gasping with everyone else when the American contender for the gold had tripped over their competitor and was out the remainder of the games. Coming closer to the scene in front of him, Rooster’s eyes caught the black ink on Y/n’s bicep. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re a pilot, a naval pilot like us? And you’re a fucking olympian?”

“Three-time to be exact, but who’s counting?” Y/n teased, causing Phoenix to chuckle and hand them a beer. All the men minus Payback and Bob, who had slight knowledge of Y/n’s career, practically had their eyes bulging. Rooster honestly thought they had just been in London and Rio. “It’s nice to meet you all. And to answer your question…Bradley, right?”

“Yeah, but please call me Rooster.” Y/n tried not to giggle at the callsign.

“Rooster, but yes I am a pilot, as our lovely Phoenix has pointed out I graduated Top Gun with her three years ago.”

“Weren’t you just in Qatar two weeks ago?” Payback asked when he remembered the World Championships in Athletics had just taken place. All over sportscenter they were talking about the comeback of the decade. “I swear I just watched you on my tv the other day during replays of the world championships.”

Y/n sipped their beer before replying with a nod, “Yeah I was. I probably wouldn’t be here if the timing wasn’t perfect.”

“That’s crazy,” Fanboy commented, still in disbelief he was speaking to an actual Olympic athlete. After hearing the stories from his fellow athletes— and doing a quick google search when no one was looking—Mickey was internally fanboying like his callsign namesake. “How have you managed to do both?”

“Lot’s of sleepless nights, determination, desire to win, and tequila on the weekends.” There were laughs at that. For the rest of the night Y/n fell into conversation with everyone. A few asked for a picture, which they were happy to do, and even signed some autographs for Bob and Fanboy. They caught up with Nat, relieved London memories with Payback and went into detail about their injuries when Rooster brought it up.

“I was at the bar with some buddies and saw that happen live. Everyone couldn’t believe it and I remember seeing you limp across the finish line with the, I think it was the Polish athlete? That’s amazing you even managed to get up after a crash like that.” Y/n was on their second beer, sitting between Bob and Coyote and across from Rooster while the others listened from the sides as they continued the game of pool.

“What were you thinking at that moment?” Javy asked with curiosity. “Did you like automatically know it was over for you?”

Y/n thought for a bit before replying, “the second I hit the track I knew my chances for the 400m were done—it was the semifinals after all. When I first felt the pain I thought it was the typical instant pain that would go away after a bit. Then when I started to move it got worse and as soon as I got up I thought, ‘yeah there’s no way I’m gonna be able to do the finals or relays.’ My chest was on fire from the bruised rib and then I could barely feel my knee once the adrenaline wore off. I probably would’ve collapsed after the finish line if they weren’t holding me up.”

‘Damns’ and ‘wows,’ rang out before Bob politely asked, “Are you going to try for the Tokyo team?”

“Yup,” they exhaled with a nervous chuckle at the end. “It’s gonna be tough I feel with how these past couple seasons have been, but I’m hoping for one final Olympics. It will be my last chance at gold—Individual gold,” they corrected before anyone could comment.

“You’re gonna retire?” Fanboy tilted his head, a little saddened at the thought. Throughout the night he had been on his phone watching replays of Y/n’s meets including their Olympic and World Championship runs. He tried not to react when he watched the 2016 400m semifinals. Now the thought of them retiring felt like a loss to the sport. It was like how he felt when Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt retired.

“Maybe not fully,” Y/n gave a small smile. “I might do one last season and a Worlds, but I don’t think I’m gonna go for the Paris Games.”

Payback came over and clapped them on the back, “Well I don’t know about these clowns but you can count on me to cheer you on next year. Hell I might even come to the trials.”

“That’s what I did in ‘16,” Phoenix cut in with a smile. “It was amazing and I’ll be in the stands again. Already planning to take time off to be there.” Y/n felt the warmth and gratitude swarm in them, “Thanks, Phee.”

What should have been three weeks of special combat training turned out to be two. The pressure was on with Y/n pushing their limit harder than ever—even exceeded that of their comeback. Never had the F-18 they’d become accustomed to flying feel like a stranger. Maverick was like their coach and Y/n made it their own personal goal to prove to him they had what it took to fly the mission.

At one point Y/n nearly pulled out as a candidate. When the details of the assignment were brought into light Y/n had to think hard about what they were doing. It was not going to be an easy mission. Not by a long shot. Ending badly was a great possibility compared to actually pulling it off. Their life was on the line.

What if they died? What if they got injured to the point they would have to medically retire? Decades of training for the Olympics would end if something horrible happened. Y/n had three to their name, an honor not everyone gets to have, but there was their chance at redemption after 2016 was now on the line.

In the end 6 of the 13 candidates were chosen and although Y/n felt a little saddened they were not chosen, there was a sense of relief. They were put on reserves and boarded the carrier for a long week ahead of them. When it was time to send off their teammates, Y/n pulled them each into a hug, letting it linger on Nat and making her promise to come back. “If worse comes to worse, L/n,” Payback said, “You better win the gold in our honor.” There were mutters of agreement from the others.

“How about you focus on coming back so you can watch me win it in your honor.”

They fulfilled the promise, because now here they were in The Hard Deck about to watch Y/n attempt to keep their side of the bargain. It was 5:15 am on Friday August 6th, 2021. The second to last day of the Games of the XXXII Olympiad held in Tokyo, Japan. And it was the finals of the 400m sprint.

Just a couple months ago in June several members of the squad including Phoenix, Payback, Rooster, Hangman, & Bob met up in Eugene, Oregon to attend the trials for the U.S Olympic Track & Field Team. Following covid precautions they wore their masks and stayed together in their own little group literally competing themselves on who could cheer the loudest. It was a bittersweet moment watching their friend and former teammate secure their place in their fourth and final Olympics. Hangman and Phoenix nearly shed a tear, the former consumed with emotion as they looked on proud at their partner waving to the crowd. Their romance was a surprise, but after the two met to catch up in March of 2020, they ended up having to go thorough lockdown together.

And well…..forced proximity can do wonders when you’re attracted to someone.

Jake wished he could be in Tokyo with Y/n, but even though it had been over a year since the virus broke out and sanctions were being uplifted there were still regulations set in stone for the Olympics. The entire event was postponed a whole year, but was still referred to as the 2020 Olympics despite being 2021. Only the athletes and coaches, which were limited to only one, were allowed to travel. Leading up to the Games, Penny had issued a vaccination verification and made the mask policy optional for those who had been fully vaccinated. She even went as far as making a limit for attendees during the week of the track and field events and had people reserve a spot in advance. She even set up screens outside for people to keep space in the building.

It was still a pretty full house and it was buzzing with excitement as it had been the whole week. Many were regulars who came every night to watch the heats, semifinals, and finals of many events but mostly people were there to watch their very own Top Gun alumni Y/n L/n. Even their parents were there—flying to San Diego to be a part of the watch party. They were already filled with nerves, Y/n’s mother was very upset she couldn’t be there in Tokyo with her child. If they won the gold it would be a bittersweet moment since her parents wouldn’t be there to celebrate in person until they returned home.

It was already a successful Games for the Olympian. The week before Y/n won the bronze in the 100m dash and 4x400 mixed relay and reclaimed the silver in the 200m. The place erupted in cheers each time with the dagger squad being the loudest. It would increase whenever the camera panned to Y/n, who was in obvious joy at racking more medals to their Olympic collection.

But now the pressure was on with one final individual event.

The 400m sprint.

Their signature event with two medals and several titles to their name.

One final shot at gold.

There would still be the relays, in which the final for the 4x100m would take place an hour after the 400m final and then the 4x400m the following night, but Y/n becoming an Olympic champion for an individual event would happen in less than fifteen minutes. The program flipped between other events while in prep for the race, often showing Y/n in the tunnel as they awaited the announcement of the finalists.

At around 5:20 all eyes were glued to the screen with someone yelling, “Turn it up!’ when the sportscasters appeared to be talking about Y/n. The pilots all had the same expression, wincing when they replayed the footage of the 2016 semifinals.

“I think we can all agree we are looking forward to this race, right Steph?”

“That’s right, John. You know, all eyes have been on Y/n L/n these Games. They have already had a great run with three medals, two bronze and a silver with three more events to go. They have quite the Olympic career since their debut in 2008 at the age of eighteen. They came up forth in the 200m in Beijing and walked away with the bronze medal in the 400m,” below the commentator was Y/n’s Olympic statistics. “Then they had a spectacular run in London where we saw them on the podium in each of their events. Silver medals in the sprints and It was their start off the blocks in the 4x100m relay that I believe is what secured the Americans the gold.”

“I agree, Steph. I can still recall that race and the emotions I felt. L/n had an amazing post-Olympic run after London—totally dominating the 2013 & 2014 seasons. Let’s not forget they were one of the top athletes in the NCAA’s during their time at Vanderbilt. I definitely believe it would have continued into 2015 if they hadn’t pulled out, but they still were the leading contender for the Rio Games. It was the height of the career I feel.” The screen was now split to showcase footage of Y/n’s 2013 & 2014 Worlds. Then it showed the heats and semifinals of Rio.

“Totally, John, they dominated the trials that year. They very well could have left Rio with more medals—quite possibly a gold in 400m which is their signature event. Everytime I rewatch the semifinals I almost have to look away at the final turn.”

“I know, it was an unfortunate incident that ended Y/n’s Olympics before they could really start. We almost didn’t know if we would even see them here in Tokyo, but after a spectacular comeback at the 2019 World Championships in Qatar, I had very high hopes we would get to this moment.”

“Me too, John, the pressure is on for the 31-year-old, let’s see if they can deliver,” the commentator turns to look at the camera with Y/n’s picture beside her, “Well it’s almost time for the 400m and it looks they are about to announce the finalists so we are going to have our crew in the stadium takeover our coverage. We will see you back here in the studio after the race and be sure to stick around because the night won’t be over for the four-time Olympian. Y/n is set to be one the four of today’s 4x100m relay final and tomorrow’s 4x400m relay.”

The screen switched to reveal the stadium, specifically the entrance tunnel where a projection would show the name and nation of the finalists. Y/n had taken the top spot in their heat and the semifinal so they would get the fourth lane on the track.

“Here we go!” Someone in the Hard Deck clapped, causing a few more people to follow. The cheers heightened when the American flag appeared above the name Y/n L/n.

First the announcement was in Japanese, then the English translator spoke through the stadium “In Lane Four, representing the United States of America, Y/n L/n!” With a shy smile, Y/n appeared from the side and walked until they were directly beneath their name. Then they turned to the camera and gave a wave followed by blowing a kiss to the screen and lastly throwing a peace sign. It must have been a little awkward without a packed stadium like the previous Games. Only a small section was filled with locals and the coaches of the athletes.

“That’s my best friend!” Nat yelled over the cheers. Several others followed the pilot, “Let’s go, Y/n!” “Bring it home!” “One last time, baby, let’s go!”

The remaining finalists were announced and took their place behind the starting blocks. When the camera panned to Y/n, their eyes were closed in a silent prayer.

“Take your mark.”

Their eyes snapped open with a shaky breath, feet carrying them to the starting blocks. Y/n did a ritual stretch down, tapping the tops of their toes with their hands before bending down to place their feet in the right position. Glancing up to the sky, Y/n said in their head, “please, give me this one moment.” Tucking their chin into their chest, Y/n waiting with anticipation like everyone else in the world watching.

It was like time slowed. “Set.” Their knees lifted off the track.

*Pop* the sound of the gun and Y/n catapulted off the blocks. Their eyes never faltered as they ahead at the track and let their legs do the work. In their peripheral they saw their opponents, the space between them slowly decreasing by the second as they pulled into the final stretch. Coming around the corner there was no one in Y/n’s sight. The finish line drew closer. Y/n didn’t know if they were in the lead by a long shot or if it was only a nanosecond.

Their heart pounded in their chest, sweat dripping from their forehead. Heaved breaths left their mouth and Y/n could feel her bad knee start to burn. But they pushed and they pushed.

All Y/n knew as they crossed the finish line was the world record flashed and their eyes snapped to the board which resulted in them screaming. As the announcer yelled through the coms, “WORLD RECORD!!” Y/n fell to their knees in tears.

#1 Y/N L/N—USA 47.50 (WR, OR)

Below their name were spots 2-8. And not only did Y/n just take the gold in their last individual event, but they also broke the World and Olympic records. Records that had been set for decades.

When Y/n finally lifted their head they were met with beaming faces of their competitors. They all congratulated the athlete, some hugging and patting their back. The world record sign was still flashing and Y/n felt another wave of emotion. This time they ran to their coach, aware the cameraman was keeping up with them to get a close look for the viewers at home.

Y/n could only imagine what it was like in Fightertown.

The second the athletes were lining up, Coyote yelled, “Everybody shut up!!” Silence filled the building, everyone’s focus on their respected screen. “Set.” *Pop* The racers were off and the commentators were already speaking frantically. “Great start off the blocks for L/n, coming around on the first turn neck and neck with the athlete from the Bahamas. Jamaica and Great Britain are not too far as they take on the long stretch of the track.”

“Go! Go!” People started to scream. Bob was biting his nails, Rooster was gripping his beer bottle. Hangman and Coyote were already off of their seats, “C’mon, Y/n! You got this!” It got louder as they approached the final turn.

“L/n is starting to pull a lead as they come up the turn, but the Bahamas are right there—this was the moment L/n’s Olympic dreams were shattered in Rio—O-oh! L/n has overtaken the Bahamas—they’ve got a huge gap as they pull into the final stretch! Oh my God we could be witnessing history—L/n is .10ths of a second ahead of the World Record and increasing their lead ahead of the others by an outstanding margin!”

“Let’s go!!!” The commentators' words were barely there as it competed with the uproar of spectators in the Hard Deck. Everyone was pretty much out of their seats and jumping as they watched Y/n’s lead increase with each step to the finish line. “You’re almost there!! Go! Go! Go!”

Then it exploded.

“THEY’VE DONE IT! Y/N L/n has won the gold for America!! They smashed the Olympic record and set the World record for the 400m dash by .10 of a second at these Olympic Games in Tokyo!”

“OH MY GOD!!!” Phoenix and several others screamed. She and Halo embraced in a hug with Nat covering her mouth to hold back her emotion when the screen showed Y/n screaming out to the sky before falling to their knees. The guys were all jumping around, Rooster and Payback embraced in a side hug, pulling Jake who was pretty much in tears as he watched the display of his partner.

“After heartbreak four years ago in Rio that put them out of a chance for the gold, Y/n L/n has come out on top in Tokyo. They can finally add Olympic Champion to their name as well as Olympic and World record holder of the 400m dash. In what could be the last time we see Y/n L/n in an Olympic Games, they have achieved what they set out to do since their debut in Beijing 13 years ago. What a stunning finish to a beautiful Olympic career in the sport of track and field.”

Y/n’s parents were clenched in each other’s arms, eyes rimmed as their own tears poured. They were filled with so much happiness for their child and wished nothing more to be in the crowd and share this moment with them. At the bar top Warlock, Hondo, and Maverick were high-fiving while Cyclone clapped along with a smile. Penny rang the bell simply to join the cheers.

It was truly spectacular to witness. The slow motion replay was on the screen followed by the Y/n’s reaction when they looked up to find their name on the board. The cheers kept going and only started to quiet down when TV showed the athlete in their post race interview. “Y/n, what a night here tonight. Congratulations are in store, you have not only taken an individual gold but also the World record—and the Olympic record! It’s your fourth medal in these Games, the first gold—how are you feeling right now after this victory?”

Everyone hushed to listen, but were grinning wide and some were wiping away tears. Y/n’s face was flushed, still coming off of the high of what had just happened. “O-oh I can’t even put it into words how I’m feeling right now,” there was a slight sniff, Y/n using their finger to wipe their face but was careful not to let the material of the American flag draped around their shoulders touch their skin.

“This is a dream come true. It has been a long journey to get here and I-I am so honored to have been a part of this team for as long as I have. You know after the 100 & 200 I didn’t want to have my hopes too high because as you can see anything can happen in these Games,” Y/n chuckled, eyes glossy, “I think I may have actually blacked out on the last stretch. I just kept my focus on the finish line and was just as amazed to see I had broken the records.”

The title card on the screen now showed: Y/n L/n, Gold Medalist, 400m (WR, OR: 47.50).

“Your friends and family have all gathered in San Diego—they’re watching right now and we actually got footage of their reaction to your win tonight. We’d love to show you if you like.”

“Oh God please,” Y/n was already giggling. The assistant brought over an ipad with a video and pressed play. On the tv screens the image split to show the video beside Y/n’s face to capture their own reaction. They saw the daggers squad in front of the bar while their superiors including Maverick were seated at the bar top. They were all surrounded by servicemen and women as well as civilians. Y/n teared up when they spotted their parents near Jake. By the end of it Y/n was basically crying while laughing. “Oh my God, that is amazing. I wish they could’ve been in the stands. I know my parents are probably thinking how the one time they can’t see me compete in person is when I win.”

The reporter laughed along with them. “I know I gotta let you go cause you’re set to race the relay in less than an hour and the podium ceremony is about to start, but before you go I just want to ask if this is the last time we’ll see you after these Games conclude Sunday night.”

Y/n softly smiled to the reporter, bottom lip slightly trembling, “uhh, you know I wasn’t completely sure. Since Rio I’ve had some troubles with my knee after the torn ACL—I almost wasn’t sure about these Games until 2018. I’ve been talking to Allison Felix these past couple days, since this is gonna be her last Games. Her and I have been part of Team USA for 13 years now and she’s become not only a mentor but a friend to me and i’m going to miss seeing her at competitions. I know I plan to do the 2022 season—especially the Worlds. Paris is only three-years away,” they shrugged, like they were considering it, “I’ll be thirty-four when it comes around so it’s really gonna come down to how I’m feeling after 2022.”

“Well I hope to see you again in Paris, but if not then it was truly a pleasure watching you these years. You’ve been an inspiration to many watching back home in the States. Congratulations again on this win and we can’t wait to see you bring it in the relays. Good luck again tonight.”

“Thank you so so much. I appreciate it and much love to everyone back home—thank you for all the support, especially my mom and dad, my coach, and my friends in Fightertown who I know are probably losing their minds. I love you all and I couldn't have got this gold without each and every one of you. Thank you,” Y/n shakes their hand and blows a kiss to the camera before following the volunteer to locker rooms to change for the podium ceremony.

Just like in London, Y/n was nearly a mess on the podium when the gold medal was presented to them. Per covid regulations, the athlete had to place it around their own neck instead of how it was at previous games with someone else doing the honor. Still, it held everything to Y/n.

They were an Olympic champion.

Tears streaked their face when the national anthem played and when it concluded Y/n kissed the medal and waved to the crowd of spectators that included the media and athletes from other countries. The rest of Team USA’s track athletes were there too, cheering the loudest as some of them have been Y/n’s teammates for over a decade. After pictures with the other medalists Y/n was rushed to get ready for the relay that was to start in 20 minutes. At the Hard Deck it was an emotional scene watching the podium ceremony. Jake and Nat were embraced, looking on with glossy eyes while everyone beamed at the screen. Y/n’s parents were with them too. It was bittersweet.

20 minutes later they were in cheers once again when Team USA took the silver in the 4x100m relay. Y/n kick started it off like they did in London, but this time fell short to second place by a smudge. It still was a celebration with Y/n adding another silver medal to their personal Tokyo medal count. It was passed one in the morning in Tokyo when Y/n FaceTimed Jake after the podium ceremony. They were met with shouts of joy from everyone in proximity that it was hard to even make out the individual voices.

“You fucking did it!!”

“Congratulations, Lightning McQueen, you were amazing!”

“Holy shit, Olympic gold!”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Y/n. I wish I could hug you right now.”

The call was brief but wholesome with Y/n thanking the entire squad for their support and they loved watching their reaction to the race. Jake spoke on behalf of the others with the promise to celebrate the second Y/n returned to San Diego in three days. After goodbyes and a quick chat with their parents, Y/n ended the call to get much needed sleep for their final race the next day. The Hard Deck cleared out soon after with many calling it a day.

It was the same scene the next morning at 5:30 am to watch the final of the 4x400m relay. “It is the final day in these Olympic Games after a spectacular two weeks in Tokyo. Many firsts have been made. There are just a few events to get through tonight before closing ceremonies tomorrow evening. All eyes are now on the finals of the 4x400m relay. And boy is there a lineup tonight with the Americans looking to defend with a seventh-straight title.”

“It’s going to be an interesting finals tonight, Mark. Like you mentioned, the US have retained the title of Olympic champions in this event since the 1996 Games in Atlanta. They are unstoppable and this is the first time Y/n L/n is part of the group. They won the gold in London for the 4x100 and just last night took silver in the event. Four years ago in Rio they were set to be on both the 4x100 and 4x400, but after a tragic semi finals that ended with a torn ACL, L/n had to pull out of Games.”

On the screen the team was announced with all four athletes appearing from the side. Together they did a little dance for the cameras before going to the track. “I’m interested to see how L/n does tonight and if they can pull through. This event is truly a team effort and unlike last night, L/n is set to anchor the Americans in the final pass rather than starting. They just won the gold in the 400m last night in a stunning record breaking finish—I’m still in disbelief.”

The Hard Deck painted a familiar picture as the previous morning. The Daggers were on the edge of their seats when the race started and Penny stopped taking orders when the third pass began. The camera was split to show Y/n taking their spot on the track to await the baton. Then the screen went back to one when the American came up on the last turn. “Here comes the final pass of the bottom in the final leg of this 4x400 relay. Poland and Jamaica are not far behind, but the Americans have given Y/n L/n a lead—and there they go! Beautiful pass from teammate to teammate and Y/n L/n is off to hopefully bring the US their seventh consecutive gold.”

“C’mon, baby, let’s go!!” Jake yelled, the others echoing his cheers. At the bar patrons were clapping the surface.

“They’re gonna get it—look at the lead!”

“It’s not over yet.”

“Let’s go, Y/n, you’re almost there!” The athlete increased the distance between them and the polish on the stretch coming into the final turn. The cheers got louder and louder with many already celebrating when it was obvious the Polish were not gonna catch up. The announcers knew it too.

“Poland has overtaken Jamaica but it will not be enough for Olympic glory—Y/n L/n has increased the margin their teammates had given them and has no doubt secured them the gold! All there is left to do is cross the finish line and the Americans have done it again! L/n has finished the job and given Team USA their seventh straight gold medal in the 4x400m relay!!” The last line was in tune with Y/n crossing the finish line. A large smile plastered on their face as a cry of joy left them that the camera managed to capture. Their teammates met them in the middle with the four embracing in cheers.

The Hard Deck exploded again when Y/n crossed the finish line, matching their reaction as though they were the ones who just won the gold for their country. They couldn’t wait for Tuesday when Y/n came home and they could celebrate the big wins together. Jake was really excited especially after having a heart-to-heart with Y/n’s father. The ring was safely tucked away in his suitcase as a reminder of what he had planned for his Olympian.

The rest of the daggers, including Mav and Hondo ended up staying an extra hour after the podium ceremony to celebrate their friend. Many were still in disbelief, but filled with absolute joy. Who wouldn’t really? They had just witnessed their friend win their sixth medal in a single Olympics. Something uncommon for even athletes who qualify for multiple events.

But Y/n did it.

They left Tokyo with two bronze, two silver, and two gold. In four Olympics Y/n started from a single bronze in their debut to their first team gold in London, leaving with nothing in Rio to finally medaling in every event they raced in Tokyo. Their first individual gold after thirteen years of hard work and dedication to rise to the top since they sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium.

It was a golden end to an Olympic dream 25 years in the making.

Or so they thought…..

When the stars painted Paris on the night of August 11th, 2024, the final night of the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, Y/n L/n waved to the crowd in a bittersweet goodbye as they wore the Stars and Stripes one final time. It was hard to hear over the roar of spectators from all over the world. Not a single seat had been empty for the final race of Y/n L/n’s career. Athletes from other disciplines attended, some in tears by the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

“It is an emotional scene here tonight in the Stade de France as we say goodbye to Y/n L/n of the United States. There isn’t a dry eye in sight as spectators and athletes from around the globe watch the five-time Olympian take their final bow after winning the gold with the Americans in the 4x400m relay in their eighth consecutive title. In what could be described as the greatest Olympic run a track athlete has ever done, Y/n L/n has achieved the impossible in Paris with six gold medals in six events. Never has an Olympian taken the gold in the 100, 200, 400m, and all three team relays in a single Olympics, but Y/n L/n has made history. They are also the second Olympian and only American to win gold in the 100, 200, and 400m in a single Olympic Games.”

Y/n walked the track with a cameraman following them, hand that was not waving patting their chest where their heart laid. The hand now had a gold wedding band and Tokyo XXXII and Paris XXXIII added to the bicep tattoo. Y/n’s teammates that they just won the gold with had stood to the side, clapping with the crowd with American flags draped around their shoulder and tears cascading their cheeks.

Y/n finally made it to the section where the majority of Americans who had traveled from the States were seated in a sea of red, white, and blue. Y/e/c went straight to the front few rows and were immediately met with the sight of not only their parents beaming faces, but the ones of their closest friends. None of them were hiding their emotion. Phoenix was embraced by Rooster, the two wiping away at their faces as was Bob. Fanboy and Coyote were teary eyed while Payback just nodded with a bright grin, bringing his fingers up to whistle. Even Maverick, who was now retired from the Navy, was in attendance looking like a proud father.

And Jake? Jake was a mess.

His green eyes were pretty much bloodshot but there was love and admiration in his gaze. His own wedding band reflected under the stadium lights and he made the motion of catching the kiss Y/n blew to him before placing it on his heart. All he wanted to do was jump over the railing and hug his spouse, but unfortunately that would have to wait until after the podium ceremony.

The extinguishing of the Olympic torch at the closing ceremonies would signal the start of Y/n’s retirement from the world of athletics. It would close one chapter, but the other was still in progress. There was still time for them to be the best of the best in terms of naval aviators. They were not even halfway into their Naval career.

And they were totally up for the challenge, because nothing is impossible when going for the gold.

#top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #lt jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #Jake seresin imagine #natasha trace imagine #natasha trace x reader #natasha trace #natasha phoenix trace #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #javy machado imagine #javy machado x reader #rueben payback fitch #micky fanboy garcia #mickey Garcia imagine #Ruben fitch imagine #dagger squad #dagger squad imagine #dagger squad x reader #fluff #Olympics #olympian!reader #pilot!reader

[2kmps]

diavolo gets a new hobby: reading tea leaves. he decides to share the new experience with you.

notes; 2.1k, not really proofread, written in 2021 so this is based off original obm game- not nightbringer, smoochies w/ diavolo 🫰🏻

The tea leaves always read a different fortune to him every time he looked. Out of habit, he hurried through his first cup to see the formation of the leaves look as they floated to the bottom and settled in clusters, taking on rather intriguing shapes that looked a lot like nothing.

From the inside of his jacket, he plucked out a little red book of whimsical divination, detailing thousands of different interpretations for why those tiny specks looked like that. This one promised him a lucrative future and fulfilling love life.

This one had to be accurate, it was most pertinent to the happenings of his life and what he wished for, after all. It was more the latter than anything else that jostled his spirits, coaxing his shoulders a little higher and his smile all the more dazzling as a satisfied hum vibrated in his throat.

His only complaint was that the divination he received was a little vague, that was the downfall of relying on that as a measure of reading the future as opposed to going to a fortune teller or palm-reader. All of that aside, it didn’t dissuade him from reading for the teapot centered in the table to pour another cup for yet another try.

This time, he wanted it a little more specific on his love life. If he couldn’t get a name, maybe he could at least figure out the qualities of the person he’d end up with. Admittedly, he already had compiled a list of those in chronological order with an image of someone in mind.

“Young Master,” Barbatos announced with an amicable smile, arm rigid at his waist while he gave a slight bow. He sidestepped to allow you past him. “Your company has arrived. I’ll prepare the new tea leaves you requested.”

He offered a few excitable words of thanks to the butler, eyes alight like glittering gold and never faltered from you even once you took your seat at the table. The twitch was there in his limbs to reach across the table to touch you; grab your hand, tuck a hair behind your ear- anything, really.

“I’m glad you were able to come. The brothers didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?” he asked coyly, tucking his hands below the silk tablecloth to fiddle with the pages in his red booklet. “I did call you out of the blue. It didn’t really occur to me at the time that you may have had plans.”

As much of a chaotic whirlwind you were, miraculously, there were traces of modesty in tact with a real discomfort for causing issues not warranted by necessity.

You were a strange being with a good heart, perhaps that why you were so close to his.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Your reply was accompanied by a crack of laughter while you fiddled with the settings on your phone. He hoped you meant to turn it off. “I actually sort of snuck out. Don’t give that look, it’s not a problem. I promise! So, Lucifer recruited all of us to do a top-to-bottom scrub of the House of Lamentation. Wanna know why? Because-ah, well… never mind. Let’s just say that Mammon got way too invested at the casino, that blew up bad…”

Diavolo jutted his lips, pulling them down into a frown. “Sounds like he may have gotten involved with the crime syndicates, then. They’re difficult to regulate, though less of a problem than what they used to be. A couple hundred years ago, the Devildom would’ve been completely inhabitable for humans. They controlled a lot.”

“So, sort of like the syndicates, gangs, or mafia in the human realm, right?” you asked, grabbing one of the finger sandwiches from the silver tray on the table and popped it in your mouth. “Didn’t think they’d really be a thing here. Thought it’d be more like ritualistic torture or magic fights.”

He gave a hearty laugh that shook his shoulders, mirroring you as he took one of the miniature foods as well. “Oh, there are those, too. You’d need to go to certain ends of the Devildom where they’re more common, though. Even then, they’re forbidden.”

You didn’t talk with your mouth full, instead you gave a hum of understanding, a nod, and reached for another morsel. A petite cupcake was in your sights as Barbatos reappeared with a new tea spread atop of a platter of pure gold. Diavolo had to notice that the particular set he chose was a favorite; all of the components were clear glass with unique craftsmanship on the spout which was twisted yet elegant and poured marvelously. The individual cups were the same glass with the addition of white porcelain at the base and their handles, finished with delicate traces of gold.

“For the tea,” Barbatos started, just touching two fingers to the top of the lid as he tipped it towards your cup first. Neither Diavolo or you had paid attention to the fact that there had been liquid inside, albeit as clear as the glass that contained it. As it surged forth and gushed from the spout, it turned crimson in the air and in your cup. “Incredibly rare leaves with a blend of berries.”

You looked like you were ready to go feral and spring atop the table in absolute astonishment at witnessing this. Diavolo had seen it once before at a meeting many moons ago, although it was still as fascinating as the first time he had seen it. It was your reaction that he treasured the most, seared into his memory; it was truly the only reason he requested for Barbatos to hunt it down for him.

He watched as you settled into your chair again, smoothing out the fabric of your shirt as though to disguise your embarrassment. You only grabbed your cup once Barbatos had filled the other and Diavolo hooked a finger through the dainty handle, holding it aloft to toast you. It was a gesture that you were eager to reciprocate.

“To an afternoon with… really… the best company I could ask for.” The air cut with a sharp clatter of glass, however gentle it actually was. Diavolo lifted his shoulders towards his ears, feeling heat crawl up them from his neck. “Truly, the amount of joy I feel when we’re able to have time together like this- it’s immeasurable.”

Your smile broadened. “I always look forward to it.”

Finally, he rewarded his bravery with a sip of the tea. The warm wafts of steam swirled around his face, filling his nostrils with a showstopping sweet aroma that he thought he could already taste in the back of his throat. Other traces were far more subtle, a little more of a task for him than he was willing to put into the drink.

All that mattered was your reaction.

His gaze remained on you still, always. Once you took a sip, he did as well, though he let his lips linger on the rim of the cup for a while afterwards. While the tea itself could almost be described as overwhelmingly sweet in smell, it was far more tart in flavor, making him pucker and salivate. It clung to the back of his throat, heavier in body than he recalled from the one other time.

Overall, it was a delightful foil to the monotony of other blends he had tried recently.

He was first to finish the cup, turning it inward to where the remnants of dried berry and crushed leaves lay at the bottom in a rather peculiar pattern that he had never seen before. It prompted a look of marvel and retrieving the red booklet from beneath his thighs where he had tucked it earlier.

“What are you doing? Is something wrong with your tea?” you were trying to get a better angle of what was going on. “Seriously, what?”

It was the perfect moment, he thought. He was quick to rise from his chair, moving it across the shriveling grass below until he was able to root the legs down next to you. Still in his grasp were the cup and booklet, both of which he held up between your bodies. “I’ve never seen this kind of pattern in tea leaves before. This book has thousands of different meanings. I think this one is special!”

Your head remained still, though your eyes roamed from the booklet to him and back again a few times. “I didn’t know you were into reading tea leaves, Diavolo. Definitely not what I expected.”

Again, he gave a laugh that felt like it even rumbled in his stomach. “Haha! Well, I guess you could say It’s a new hobby of mine! I find it fascinating there’s so many ways to read your fate and fortune. Worth mentioning it’s all for fun, though.”

That wasn’t the complete truth.

“Does reading tea leaves sort of fall into that grey area where you shouldn’t try to alter the future or something? Impede natural progression of fate or whatever?” you were genuinely curious, he could tell when you took the cup from him and rotated it in your own attempt to make sense of it. “Kinda looks like a weird heart, don’t you think?”

“Oh, so you see it, too? I bet that means something good.” He moved closer to you, arms and thighs flush to one another. “Barbatos' power is on a different level from reading tea leaves for fun. It’s also real. Fortune-telling in most of its forms is real too, but easily falsified. We have the fake psychics in the Devildom as well. You just never know if you’re getting something authentic, or something for a quick grimm. It’s almost harder to regulate than the crime syndicates.”

Diavolo was suddenly very aware of the weight of your body against his side as you leaned into him, holding the cup up near both your faces. “I can imagine. So, if it’s not illegal for us to play around with it… what does the heart thingy mean? Love, probably?”

“Probably!” he agreed, wildly perusing the pages until his eyes landed on a picture with a heart formation mostly similar to one in the cup. They were never precise. “It says… hmm, I see. This book in particular is saying that how well formed the heart is determines how the flow of a relationship will go. In this case, I’d say… it looks… off… a bit.”

You sputtered a laugh, sticking your elbow against him. “Don’t sound so upset. It’s just tea. Besides, isn’t the nature of most relationships a little up and down? The heart doesn’t look that messed up, Diavolo.”

“Mmm, that’s true,” he sighed, flipping to the next page to continue the explanation. “The issue I take most with tea leaf readings is that it’s all just so… nebulous. The shape of the heart itself may not even mean much; it could just be that there’s a relationship in my future that may go well, or not at all. It doesn’t always tell you that much.”

Your cheek was resting against his shoulder at this point, using it as an anchoring point to make it easier to read the booklet he held up. He hoped that you couldn’t hear the sound of his heart thrumming against his ribs; it was deafening in his ears right now.

“So,” you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue, “It’s, like, if you get an omen in your cup that doesn’t necessarily mean that omen is gonna fuck you up. It’s more like, the omen is going to be present in some shape or form?”

Diavolo couldn’t care less about the booklet at this point, not with how you were nestled against him like this. “Hmm, that sounds about right.”

“So,” you continued, slowly tilting your face up so you were able to see his. “That means you shouldn’t let the reading dissuade you from anything. You should just go for it?”

He saw your eyes drift from his towards his lips, it made his jaw clench and breath catch in his throat. You had tendencies to be forward with things, but he hadn’t expected it in these circumstances. It was almost embarrassing how much of a brainless fool he became when you were with him.

It was as his arms wound your body, holding you firmly against him while his lips danced across yours in several fervent kisses that he realized he didn’t care much for any of that.

divider; @/anlian-aishang

reposted from my deleted blog, cardeneiv

#obey me #obm #obey me diavolo #diavolo x reader #diavolo x you #diavolo x mc #diavolo x y/n #obm diavolo #obey me imagines #obey me one master to rule them all #2k writes

[aching-tummies]

Onion Rings RP reaponse. I'd provide the kneading-hands on your upset tummy. Definitely a "hurt it" kind of kneading too. Firm, deep kneads. I'd use my knuckles a lot, pressing deep and dragging 'em like a baker does when they wanna drag the dough against the counter. Also can't forget the "punch down" action ^^ the bloated dome gets the fist. I'm going to cause that tummy ache to bloom and enjoy your tum's grumbles and making you moan and whine and maybe burp, or more likely vomit.

This gem has been sitting in my inbox since 2021. I'm so sorry to the person that sent this because this ask is gold and I've written and scrapped over a dozen responses to it because none of them felt quite right. All the onion rings puns in this ask kind of derailed me so many times and I love them. I wonder of the “bloom” one is in reference to a “bloomin' onion”--a form of “onion ring”/deep fried onion? Whether that was intentional or not, it was perfect and has made me smile countless times since I received this ask. Thank you!

Response to this post.

I whine as yet another potential sickly belch is denied to me. My tummy grumbles unhappily, continuing to inflate with the sickly gas being produced by the greasy, messy digestion of my unhealthy snack. The drive-thru you stopped by in the way home got your order wrong and gave you onion rings instead of the fries you had asked for. Unfortunately for you, you didn't check the bag before driving home and once back home you weren't going to leave over some fries. Luckily for me, I love onion rings...or at least, I did. I love the idea of onion rings—when they're outside of me and about to be consumed. Once they're conspiring to give me a nasty, greasy case of indigestion I like them a lot less.

That's what brings us to this moment. You scarfed your burger and pawned off the onion rings and half of your Mountain Dew to me in favour of hopping into the shower. I ate the side of onion rings and downed the Dew before it had a chance to go flat. The sickly green colour of the Dew should have been warning enough not to drink it. My poor tummy feels volatile, like it's filled with radioactive sludge rather than the greasy, carbonated mess it's churning around.

“My my, what's this?”

I almost jump out of my skin at your voice in my ear. You rest your chin on my shoulder, hands sliding under my shirt to palm at my rapidly bloating belly.

“Nnngh...oww...t-tummy's...j-just a bit upset.” I murmur, still struggling to try and expel some of the gas festering in my poor belly.

You dig your palm into my gut above my navel, dragging it slowly and firmly to the left with your fingers curled to make a bit of a fist. The bumps of your knuckles knead deeply into my upset gut.

“Oh! Oooh....nnnngh...*urp*” I startle at the sudden pressure of your palm on the centre of my gut and can't help but moan at the dragging kneading.

You continue this motion, altering hands and falling into a steady rhythm. It hurts, but with each 'punch' to the centre of my belly I get the opportunity to let out a pitifully small belch. It's not much, but I can only hope that it's gradually reducing the pressure in my achy belly. The carbonation in the Dew and the greasy onion rings were conspiring to wreck my sensitive belly. Already, the stretch from my stomach bloating up with the products of indigestion is pretty uncomfortable.

We stay in that position for a few minutes. Your kneading massage gradually slows. The thudding impact of your palm starting in the centre of my belly stops, replaced by both of your hands cupping at the sides of my bloated belly and squeezing. I've got a relatively trim tummy, but the indigestion and uncomfortable bloating has caused it to dome slightly. I'd think it was cute in a miniature-basketball sort of way if it didn't come with feeling so utterly sick to my stomach.

“Nnnngh...s-so upset...oooh...h-hurts!” I groan and whine, squirming in your hold as you torment my belly. My mutterings end in a frantic exclamation as I twist in your hold. Your hands had found a particularly sore spot in my belly and kneaded firmly. “Ooof...oww...s-sorry...oww...nnngh...it really, really hurts right now. C'n...C'n we slow down a bit? G-Gentle? Oooh...m-my tummy *really, really hurts!”

You grin at my protests, arms coming back to loop around my waist as you guide us to the couch. The tea I'd been in the process of making sits, forgotten, on the counter. Pity, I'd been preparing it in hopes that it'd settle my stomach. It's an intentional move on your part. Settling my stomach will come, eventually. Throughout your shower, thoughts of a stomach ache in full bloom went through your head. You didn't dare to hope that the small side of onion rings and half a drink would create issues in my tummy, but upon stepping out to the sight of me pressing my tummy into the counter sealed it for you. The indigestion will quell, eventually, it'll run it's course probably quicker than it would if left untouched—a byproduct of getting to manhandle my guts to your heart's desire and see the limits of 'tummy ache' that you can inflict on it.

#tummy ache #upset tummy #aching tummies #indigestion #RP-Ask upset stomach

[sergeifyodorov]

every active first overall pick | 2020, alexis lafreniere

Selected first overall in the QMJHL entry draft, Alexis Lafreniere scored the most goals by a rookie since his Rimouski Oceanic predecessor Sidney Crosby. He has represented Canada on the international stage five times, including gold at the 2018 Hlinka Gretzky Cup, where he served as captain, and the 2020 World Juniors, where he won tournament MVP. He is the youngest NHL player to score their first goal in overtime, and one of only two teenagers to do so.

2019 | 2021

#alexis lafreniere #new york rangers #the cody art tag #big fan of the pose on this one... lets go laff woo yeehaw #also JACCUSE next. finally someone i can talk about without digging for juniors stats

[lovelytsunoda]

hot n cold // esteban ocon

summary: two years of drama, adrenaline and a doomed friends-with-benefits relationship with esteban ocon are shaping up to be the death of olympic archer y/n szafnauer as she finds herself off the archery circuit with a wrist sprain. the relationship wasn't supposed to mean anything. until y/n szaufner wishes that it would, wishes that esteban would just tell her how he really feels.

pairing: esteban ocon x female szafnauer!reader

warnings: a few small smut scenes. miscommunication and pining. fernando, daniil and oscar being done with everybody's bullshit. pregnancy scare is integral to the plot. slight lawrence stroll jumpscare. existential crisis as y/n worries about her future and the teenage years she feels like she never had, a little bit of toxicity on either end of the relationship. jack and oscar being loveable dipshits, fernando being a disappointed father. otmar being the really disappointed father.

2021 Season

she appeared in the paddock in a flurry of skinny jeans, heeled sandals and and a cropped camp shirt in british racing green, open over her black, lacy bralette. her eyes were hidden behind rose-gold sunglasses, a metal straw in between her lips as she sipped her caramel iced coffee.

esteban ocon and daniil kvyat were sitting outside the alpine hospitality suite, the reserve driver laughing as esteban's jaw dropped, his eyes following the woman as she stopped to talk to laurent rossi, the team principal.

"close your mouth, ocon." daniil laughed. "you'll catch flies."

"who is that?" esteban asked, nodding in the woman's direction. "she's beautiful."

"that's y/n szafnauer, otmar's daughter. she was on america's olympic archery team."

"i didn't realize that otmar had a daughter. he's not that old, is he?"

daniil shrugged, thinking about the aston martin team principal. "he's pushing sixty, i thought."

"how old is the daughter?" esteban asked, reaching for his phone to punch her name into the search bar. "quick question: how do you spell szafnauer?"

the reserve driver sighed, knowing exactly where his colleague's mind was going. "esteban, that is not a road that you want to go down, comrade."

"but look at her, mate. she's so hot."

he glanced at the screen, reading the first headline that appeared underneath the google box with her name, accolades and birth date: szafnauer to miss milwaukee open following vegas wrist injury.

"esteban ocon, if you know what is good for you, you will not flirt with otmar's daughter. promise me."

esteban rolled his eyes as he made the promise with daniil.

a promise that the fully intended to break. because y/n szafnauer had him under her spell, and they hadn't even had a full conversation yet.

on the other end of the paddock, y/n was walking up the steps of the aston martin hospitality, giving lawrence stroll a hug as she tried to find her father.

"lawrence, have you seen dad?"

the team owner laughed, gesturing to the offices in the back of the building. "he's in a meeting with the engineers, but he should be done in under half an hour. how's the off season?"

she shrugged, thinking about the bow and arrow at the back of her closet. the way her fingers itched to be back around the slender body of an arrow. lawrence didn't miss the way that her pointer finger nervously tapped the side of her plastic starbucks cup.

"you know how it is. there's not really an off season for us like there is for you guys. always looking to the future."

"well, i wish you the best of luck, y/n."

"you too, lawrence." she nodded, slowly backing away, as she would have felt awkward being the first to exit the conversation with the stroll patriarch.

she waled through the brightly-lit hospitality building, the sun reflecting off the bright white walls as she knocked on the door to her father's office.

"hey kiddo." otmar szafnauer smiled, glancing up from his laptop. "how's the wrist?"

"still sprained. i don't know if i'm going to be able to get back on the circuit this year." she admitted sadly, slumping don in one of the chairs opposite her father's desk. "i don't know what to do, dad. i don't know who i am without archery."

"you could always travel with us for a little bit." otmar suggested, thinking about the girl across from him, remembering when she was just a twelve year old who picked up a bow and arrow at summer camp and never looked back. he remembered standing there at the olympic medal ceremony, watching his daughter stand on the podium with a large bouquet of flowers and a gold medal around her neck, and he wished that he didn't have to see her look so defeated.

y/n snorted. "yeah right. the doctors said i was supposed to relax. what part of this lifestyle is realxing? i'm surprised you haven't had a heart attack yet."

"knock on wood, young lady." otmar said jokingly, rapping his knuckles on the surface of his desk. "a change of scenery might do you some good. all the guys love having you around. you just need to find a way back to yourself, darling. you need to find the y/n that you are when you don't have a bow in your hand."

"and what if she died when i was sixteen, dad?"

"and what if she didn't?"

y/n laughed, knowing exactly what her father was doing. "come on, dad. i'll stay for two weeks, until my next follow up appointment, if that will make you happy." she nodded her head back towards the door. "have you told lawrence that you're thinking of leaving yet."

otmar shook his head, casting a sad look at his daughter. "i don't want to tell him until anything is certain."

later that night, after the qualifying session, the teams went out drinking. the bar was buzzing with energy with the two ferrari drivers singing 'don't go breaking my heart' by the jukebox in the corner, arms around shoulders and beer bottles held up high.

y/n sat at the edge of the booth, keeping distance between herself and the crew members. she was wearing a tight cotton sheath dress, white with blue flowers on the fabric. she had taken her wrist brace off before she left the hotel, and she was already starting to regret it.

she needed to be able to get back out there before the year was over if she wanted any chance of the big-shots in 2022.

with a sigh, she grabbed her purse and made her way back up the bar, craving something stronger than the club soda she had just finished. she had promised her father that she would be on her best behavior that evening, but if charles and carlos were allowed to get as drunk as they were, there should be no reason why she wasn't allowed to have a drink or two.

esteban ocon had been watching her from the alpine table. when he saw her go to the bar, he moved to meet her there. he had been waiting the entire day to make his move, against daniil's better judgement.

"dude, what is wrong with you?" the russian hissed, grabbing esteban's arm. across the table, fernando alsonso raised his eyebrows.

"i feel like there's a story here." the spaniard said with a grin, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"esteban here has a little crush on y/n szafnauer."

"no." fernando said sharply. not in surprise, not in question, as a definitive. "she's so far out of you league, don't even waste your time."

"thanks for the support." esteban huffed. "from both of you. now, if you'll excuse me, i'm going to go and work my french charm and buy her a strong drink."

"if you say so." fernando grinned, looking forward to watching his younger teammate crash and burn.

so imagine how surprised both of the remaining alpine drivers were when, an hour later, y/n and esteban could be spotted quietly slipping out of the front door, giggling together as they made their way to esteban's car.

the night ended with esteban's head in between her thighs, his tongue and his fingers stretching her out before her flipped her over on the bed, taking her from behind until they were both spent.

"mon dieux." esteban cursed, thrusting his cock into her deeply as she moaned underneath him. "you feel so good, mon ange. such a good girl for me, taking my cock so nicely."

"oh, esteban! yes, yes, god."

and that was how it started. one night turned into two, turned into three and suddenly neither of them knew what it was, finding their way back to each other every time. three races go by, and y/n finally gets the all-clear from her doctors to return to the professional circuit.

and she didn't realize the void that leaving the track would leave in her heart. not just because she missed her father, but because her bed was back to being empty every night, esteban's lanky body not next to hers any more.

instead of nights filled with riveting sex, french dirty talk, and talking about hopes and dreams for the future with their limbs tangled together under cotton sheets, she was finding it increasingly difficult to fall asleep, even after coming home from long training sessions with aching arms and sore feet, dropping her quiver and immediatley falling into bed just to stare at the off-white ceiling.

she had no idea that esteban felt the same, unable to get her off his mind, unable to find that same sense of calm in someone else that he found in y/n szafnauer. other girls wouldn't do it for him any more, but god did he try everything in distraction. instead, every hookup just left him feeling dirty and unsatisfied.

but there were never labels on what they had, no procedure on if they were supposed to miss each other or not. they were nothing but friends who occasionally (or more often than that) slept together, right?

so it would be strange for esteban to call her up and ask to come see her at the next invitational, right? well, the right opportunity fell right into his lap when lance mentioned how otmar had given his father tickets to go and see y/n's invitational in japan and that lance and chloe would be going, as chloe was a close friend of y/n's. as it stood, there was one ticket left, and it would either be going to esteban or mick.

but of course, like most men, esteban ocon thinks with his dick, and the one thing that his cock wanted more than anything in that moment was to be back inside the archer.

two weeks later, he found himself in japan, in the outdoor archer stadium, his eyes scanning the field from the vip box to see y/n in her lavender under armour polo and those tight little navy leggings, hair pulled back in the way that he always held it as she sucked him off.

y/n crossed the pitch to her target, pulling out the handful of arrows that she had been working with that morning. it was her third major invitational back after medical leave, and she felt. . .off. at this point, she wasn't sure if it was because she was falling in love with esteban ocon or if it had something to do with her wrist again. she couldn't afford to have another injury. she was already twenty-five, which is a death sentence for an athlete.

she held the metal arrows in her hand as she turned to walk back to the white chalk line all archers fired from, and that's when she saw him in the crowd, with lance and chloe. it was impossible not to see him, his lanky figure towering over everybody else.

her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating faster as she remembered what they had done the last time they were together.

as the competition started, she had to force herself to keep her cool, to breathe normally as she notched an arrow, lining up the shot with the target. pretending that esteban's eyes weren't glued to her as she let the arrow fly, grinning to herself as she landed a perfect bullseye.

she took home silver that day, and all she could think about was how she wished her father had bothered to show up. otmar was currently in england, finalizing the last little contract details that would cement his switch from aston martin to wherever the fuck else, but the romanian had promised to attend the next grand slam.

instead, she was stuck with the strolls and the one man she wanted to see the most, even though they'd been terrible to each other over the last year.

victory didn't feel the way that it used to.

as she stepped of the podium, she just felt empty as she thought about everything that she had given up to get there. chloe stroll was really the only friend that she had left outside of the sport.

"great job, babes!" the canadian laughed, pulling y/n in for a hug before giving her a massive bouquet of flowers. "i know your dad is proud of you. we sure as hell all are."

"thanks, chloe." she put on a brave face, smiling at the singer before shaking hands with lance, and then coming face to face with him. "hey." she said softly, hesitant to meet esteban's gaze.

"hi." the frenchman sounded just as unsure as the archer did. "i'm really proud of you, y/n. you did incredible out there."

y/n smiled nervously, brushing some stray hairs out of her face. "thanks, esteban. seriously. i've missed you since i left the track."

"me too." the alpine driver said softly, reaching for her hand. she allowed him to bring her knuckles to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back of her hand that sent shockwaves through her skin.

that got her wondering: was he just being a gentleman, or did esteban truly feel the same way that she did?

at the afterparty that night, y/n had a lot of mingling to do, but she only wanted the attention of one person: esteban ocon. it was with the alpine driver in mind that she slected her dress: a cotton bodycon dress with a cutout in the top that showed off her cleavage, and a pair of plastic stiletto heels, her hair pulled back in a seductive yet prim bun at the back of her head.

she had hands to shake and sponsors to greet, and with a champagne flute in hand, she kept a look out with the corner of her eye for esteban. she found him, but what she saw when her eyes found his made her stomach churn.

esteban was talking to a tall blonde from australia, the one who had won bronze. the wannabe pageant queen. and clearly she had esteban's attention, with the frenchman laughing loudly at something the woman had said.

y/n didn't understand why her blood was boiling the way that it was. she and esteban weren't anything special, although his skills in the bedroom certainly were.

so why did she immediately grab her purse and walk out, hyperaware of the frenchman's gaze on her ass, which was barely covered by her dress.

somehow she knew that esteban would follow her outside, into the cool japanese night.

"i wasn't going to sleep with her, you know. you do not have to think that little of me, szafnauer."

y/n rolled her eyes, turning to look at him. "it's not my problem, ocon." the words almost hurt her to say. "we aren't anything. you can flirt with whomever you want."

esteban raised his eyebrows. "so why do you look so upset?"

"i'm not." she said lowly, stepping closer and running her fingers up the front of esteban's suit jacket. "i just thought that you were coming home with me tonight."

and so it went, the same old story. her dress ended up on the floor, a lacy thong thrown over a lampshade, a tie gently holding her wrists together behind her back, esteban's trousers on the floor.

a cycle they were doomed to repeat for as long as they were scared of admitting how they felt about each other.

"esteban?" she asked quietly, scared to break the spell as they lay side by side, the frenchman's nimble fingers twirling her hair around his pointer finger. "do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you weren't who you are?"

"what do you mean, mon tresor?" the driver hummed, dropping her hair.

"i mean that i've been in this life since i was sixteen. there's a lot of shit i missed out on. i never went to prom, never went on dates. in between school and archery, i didn't really have anything else. i reckon that i didn't even have too many proper, genuine friends either. because of who my dad was, they thought i could get them into races, you know? get them an in with the drivers."

esteban thought for a minute. "your twenty-sixth is coming up, isn't it? that would mean that your career lasted a solid decade. i see no reason why you can't retire, or at the very least take a step back. life is too short not to go for what you want."

what if what i want is you, esteban ocon?

"what if, right now, i just wanted you?"

the driver smirked, ducking underneath the covers so that his head was between her thighs. "then that's what you'll get, mon ange."

2022 Season

szafnauer to take a step back from the competitive circuit, focus on life after archery

finding life after archery was harder than y/n szafnauer thought. her father had left aston martin, and gone to alpine, where, low and behold, she would constantly run into esteban.

even when the french driver was the last person she wanted to see, because every time they saw each other, it ended the same way: with the two of them naked.

but with every night spent together, the lines blurred even further. more nights were spent having deep, meaningful conversations over a bottle of wine, or cuddling together on the hotel couch while esteban commentated on shitty french comedy films.

they were crossing lines left and right, terrified to admit it to themselves or each other.

she couldn't let this go any further, she thought to herself, slipping out of esteban's bed and gathering her clothes from the night before, hastily pulling a guess sweatshirt over her head, and the jeans that she'd bought because they were cheap and comfortable (from old navy, at that- the furthest thing from a brand name!). hopin gthe frenchman wouldn't wake, she pressed a kiss to esteban's forehead before quietly slipping out of the hotel room.

as she heard the door click shut, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, turning around to almost run directly into fernando alonso.

"y/n? isn't that esteban's room- oh." the spaniard was at a loss for words when he realized what exactly that meant. "so, you and esteban?"

y/n's eyes widened. "it's not what you think. okay, maybe it is! but you cannot tell my father. if my dad finds out, it doesn't end well for any of us?" she pleaded with the older man

"so you're making me an accomplice."

"exactly! so glad you understand, thanks fernando!" she shouted as she took off down the hallway, hoping that nobody else would notice.

but of course, ignorance couldn't be bliss forever. especially not when y/n szafnauer was standing outside the alpine motorhome after spending the whole morning hurling her guts out in a hotel toilet, staring down at the period tracker app on her phone.

your period is fourteen days late.

there was only one person that the father could be, one person that caused this. she didn't even want to think about telling her father. first things first, esteban needed to know, and then they both needed to find out if she really was pregnant.

holding her breath, she stepped into the motorhome with shaky hands, hoping that her father wasn't around, knowing that otmar would rain hell down on the team for the entire race weekend. he needed to keep his head in the game, as did the rest of the team personnel.

"hey y/n!" a voice called from the hospitality.

she turned around, meeting eyes with oscar piastri, the barely-contracted reserve driver. over the past year, y/n had heard all about her father's ill-advised lawsuit to keep the aussie with the team, and his unawareness at just how laughable his case even was.

anybody with a brain could have told otmar that he was going to lose the appeal.

"hey, oscar." she hoped that her voice wasn't shaky as she spoke to the young driver. "you haven't seen esteban this morning, by chance, have you? i know it's media day, but the pen was empty when i walked past."

oscar coughed, swallowing the last of his croissant. "i think he's in his driver's room. hey, so fernando told me something this morning-"

"thank you, oscar!" she cut him off, clapping him on the shoulder before she hurried down a hallway, hoping to avoid confronation with quite literally anybody else.

if fernando had told oscar, who else already knew?

"esteban?" she called out, knocking on the driver's room door. "esteban jean-jaques ocon! i need to talk to you!"

she was about to pound on the door again when it opened, giving way underneath her knuckles.

"y/n?" esteban raised his eyebrows "what are you doing here?"

"um, my dad works here, jackass." she was done being nice, shoving past esteban and taking a seat on his massage couch. "we need to talk."

"so you said. you know fernando saw you leave my hotel room this morning?"

"fernando is the least of our worries." she blurted out, showing esteban her phone screen. the frenchman cocked his head in confusion, and the former archer cut him off before he could ask what that meant. "i could be pregnant, esteban. and we need to decided what to do from here."

"she might be what!" the unmistakable voice came from behind the door to the driver's room, panic setting in as esteban ripped the door open, causing two drivers to topple into the small space.

oscar piastri and jack doohan had been listening from the other side of the door, fernando alonso shaking his head at them from further up the hallway.

"this is what you cabrons get for eavesdropping."

the aussie junior drivers clumsily got up from the floor, hanging their heads in shame at being caught.

"is it true?" jack asked quietly. "is y/n pregnant."

"jack!" oscar scolded. "we are in enough trouble!"

"enough!" y/n shouted, shaking her head. "we don't know. i was hping just to have this conversation with esteban, seeing as how he's the only one it concerns. and now the entire goddamn team knows."

"sorry." oscar said, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. the rookie had decided it was better to keep his head down now that the court case had been settled and he'd be moving to mclaren the following season. "at least abbi doesn't know."

"don't make this worse for yourself, kid." fernando sighed. "let the adults talk."

"i am twenty-one years old!"

jack coughed. "actually, i sort of am still a kid."

"exactly. so mind your business."

esteban shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "they already know, fernando. if you send them away, they'll just blab. putain! none of this can get back to otmar, you guys hear me?"

"so what do we do from here?" y/n asked, head in her hands. it's not that she hadn't started thinking about settling down now that she was taking a break from archery, but she didn't expect it to be this soon.

she wanted to rediscover who she was first, and it was going to be hard to do that with a child on her hip.

"we keep oscar and jack somewhere where they won't gossip." fernando suggested. "since this entire mess is esteban's fault and i like watching him squirm, he gets to go out and buy the pregnancy tests. three different ones, each a different brand. cuts down on the chance of a false reading."

"why do i have to do it?" esteban gawked at the same time that jack asked "what do you know about pregnancy tests, old man?"

"i'm forty three years old and divorced, you do the math, kid." fernando said, quickly quieting the doohan boy, who promptly returned to staring at the ground. "esteban, you have to do it because y/n is already stressed enough. speaking of, y/n, do you want a coffee or something while esteban is out."

"yeah, actually." she said slowly, reaching fro esteban's hand for some kind of comfort.

he didn't reach back, his hand limp in hers. feeling like she had been punched in the gut, she dropped his hand, following fernando out into the hospitality suite for a much needed caffeinated drink.

"so..." the senior driver started, placing two fresh coffee's on the table. "you and esteban?"

"what about us?"

"is it serious?"

y/n snorted. "it's barely even a relationship. it's like we're drawn to each other, we fuck, and then we have these incredible conversations over a bottle of wine, and then it's like we don't even know each other."

"can we talk friend-of-esteban to friend-of-esteban?"

"that's not how this works, alonso."

"well, it's hardly man-to-man, is it? the cabron is head over heels in love with you, and he has been for two years. he's just a coward who won't admit how he actually feels about you."

she had suspected as much, and this conversation was confirming it for her. they were both as scared as the other: scared to rock the boat, scared to ruin what they already had with each other.

"what am i supposed to do, fernando?"

fernando gave her a knowing look, placing his hand over hers. "you tell him how you feel, and then you take the tests."

"but what if they're positive?"

"he'd be an asshole to run away, and i don't see that happening. i think that he would lay down his life for you, kiddo. give him some credit. not a lot, but some."

"and then i guess i have to tell my dad."

fernando gave her a pitiful glance, one that said everything that he couldn't. "can't help you there, y/n. that one's gotta be all you-"

"i'm back!' an out-of-breath esteban ocon proclaimed, appearing next to the table. "i got three different ones, each a different make, just like fernando said." he spoke fast, and he spoke nervously, backwards alpine ball-cap covering his disheveled hair. he'd done nothing but run his fingers over his scalp and regret every life choice he had ever made.

but especially not telling y/n he loved her.

"okay." she gulped. "let's get this show on the road."

all three sticks were locked at loaded, face up on the counter in the bathroom, a timer set on esteban's phone, all three sets of instructions nervously clutched in y/n's hand.

"y/n?" esteban asked quietly, reaching out for her free hand. "what are we doing? we can't go on like this."

"like what?"

"this. i can't do it anymore, because i think that i've fallen in love with you. no, i know that i've fallen in love with you and i've just been too scared to say it. fuck." he was out of breath despite not having said much, the anxiety eating away at his stomach. "i love you, y/n szafnauer."

"he said it!" oscar's shout could be heard for miles, and he continued yelling as esteban and y/n tried to get the young aussie to be quieter. "jack, mate, you owe me twenty quid!"

"fucking crikey, mate." jack whined. "fine, you win this one. but did the dumbass get her knocked up?"

"jack doohan!" y/n scolded. "why are you dumbasses still here?"

there was a creaking on the staricase next to them, followed by the voice of the person that everybody wanted to see the least.

"what on earth is this fucking yelling? some of us actually have work to do today!" otmar szafnauer shouted, freezing in his tracks when he saw his daughter, pregnancy test intructions clutched in one hand, the other held securely within the hand of otmar's second driver.

"dad," y/n started. "i promise you, it's not what it looks like."

"y/n y/m/n szafnauer, why are you holding pregnancy test instructions?"

oscar's eyes widened, and he turned to look at jack. "dude, does hospitality have popcorn?"

"no idea." jack shook his head. "i bet the other academy guys don't get to witness this shitshow every day. just wait until we tell them."

"you're both idiots." fernando huffed, knocking the two young aussies heads together. "this does not leave the motorhome, do you hear me?"

"dad-" y/n tried to reason before otmar cut her off.

"no buts, y/n! who have you been fucking all this time? was it oscar? daniil? because if it was that russian motherfucker, i swear to god i will find his address and hunt him for sport!"

"at least we know it wasn't me, mate." jack offered up, trying to lessen the tension in the motorhome. "because i'm not an adult yet, remember?"

"shut up jack!"

the f2 driver got the message loud and clear. "okay, shutting up."

"oh dear god?" otmar closed his eyes, hands in front of his face in the prayer position. "please tell me . . . tell me that it wasn't. . .it's not. . . fernando, is it?"

y/n physically recoiled, fighting the urge to gag. "christ, dad! who the fuck do you think i am?"

"i was just checking!"

"my standards may not be super high," fernando admitted. "but i would never fuck my boss' twenty-five year old daughter."

"i'm twenty-six, fernando."

"my mistake. sorry, kiddo."

otmar turned back to his daughter, something akin to disappointment hiding behind the initial betrayal in his eyes. "we used to tell each other everything, y/n. and now i find out that you've been seeing one of my drivers behind my back?"

the sadness in her father's eyes made y/n crack then and there. she missed how close she and her father had once been.

"it's esteban. we've been seeing each other for two years, dad."

"oh sweet jesus." otmar muttered, before he starting rambling in romanian under his breath. "esteban jean-jaques ocon, when this is all said and done, i need to see you in my office."

"i understand, sir." esteban nodded, moving his hand from y/n's so that he could put his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. "but believe me when i say that i am in love with your daughter, and i plan to do right by her."

"estie, we don't even know if there is a baby yet." she said softly, turning to look at him. "what are we supposed to do?"

"we try again. start completely from scratch, from square one, as if the past two years never happened. we go on proper dates, and i listen as you tell me your big plans for retirement." the frenchman said quietly, gently kissing her on the forehead. "je t'aime, y/n szafnauer."

"je t'aime, esteban ocon."

the timer on esteban's phone went off, and the driver looked over at otmar. "otmar? i think you should sit down for this."

"sit down? don't tell me to sit down, young man! you've been boning my daughter behind my back for two years, i don't think that you're really qualified to tell me anything-"

"otmar!" fernando interrupted. "i know that you're stressed out right now, but your daughter's future is written on three little plastic sticks. so sit your ass down and give the two of them some space to find out what to do next."

"i'm too young to be a grandfather."

oscar snorted. "dude, you're like, sixty."

"i am fifty-eight!"

"are you ready, mon tresor?" esteban said quietly, turning to face y/n.

she nodded, one hand wrapped around the cool metal of the bathroom door handle. "as ready as i'll ever be."

the two crammed themselves into the small bathroom, estie's arms around her waist and his lips agains thte side of her head as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for those little pink lines.

how crazy is it that the entire future of two people can be changed by a series of pink lines? everything different in an instant.

"i'm right here." the driver encouraged. "take your time, mon tresor."

slowly, and with shaky hands, she flipped over the first test, and then the second.

negative. negative again.

she drew in a breath, looking at the last test, the smiling baby on the white handle doing nothing to calm her nerves. she didn't even know if she knew what she wanted the test to say yet.

"i can't do it, esteban. i can't face the unknown."

she knew it was a shitty answer. she faced the unknown the second she announced that she was stepping away from her sport. faced the unknown the minute she got into esteban ocon's bed. the moment she had to deal with medical leave.

esteban placed his hand over her. "then we turn it over together. and i promise, whatever the answer is, we work through it together."

"okay."

on the count of three, they turned the test over together.

not pregnant.

shockingly, she found herself breathing a sigh of relief. and she could feel esteban relaxing behind her as she rested her head against his chest, mumbling to himself in french.

"now we have time to do the real relationship things. to fall in love with each other all over again." she turned to look at him. "let's do everything in the right order this time."

esteban laughed. "i'd like that very much." he smiled as he kissed her. "so, does this mean that children are on the table for the future?"

"is that something you want?"

"only with you."

y/n smiled. "then yes. but you'd better put a ring on it first."

esteban chuckled, kissing her again. "i think i can make that happen, mon ange."

#esteban ocon x reader #estie bestie #esteban ocon #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lovelytsunodas katy perry series

[toasttt11]

august crosby

August Catherine Crosby

Number: 7

Season: Eighth

Position: C

Height: 5”6

Hometown: Halifax, Nova Scotia

S/C: R

NHL: VGK

Prev Team: PIT

NHL

• Selected First overall by the Pittsburgh Penguins in the 2016 NHL Draft.

• Traded to the Vegas Knights for the 2017-2018 season.

International

Team Canada

•2023 World Championship- Gold Medal, 9 G, 8 A, 10 GP.

•2021 World Championship- Gold Medal, 9 G, 9 A, 7 GP

•2016 World Championship- Gold, 10 G, 8 A, 7 GP

•2016 World Junior Championship- Gold, 9 G, 9 A, 7 GP

•2015 World Junior Championship-Gold, 8 G, 9 A, 7 GP

•2014 World U-18 Hockey Challenge- Gold Medal, 7 G, 7 A, 7 GP

•2013 World U-17 Hockey Challenge- Gold Medal, 9 G, 8 A, 6 GP

Eighth Season (2023-2024)

Vegas Knights

42 G, 40 A, 82 P, 50 GP

Signed a 75 million dollar contract for 8 years and five million dollar signing bonus.

Captain.

Seventh Season (2022-2023)

Vegas Knights

58 G, 80 A, 135 P, 81 GP

Received King Clancy Memorial Trophy

Received Hart Memorial Trophy.

Received Art Ross Trophy.

Received Conn Smythe Trophy.

Stanley Cup.

Captain.

Sixth Season (2021-2022)

Vegas Knights

52 G, 77 A, 127 P, 80 GP

Received Hart Memorial Trophy.

Received Art Ross Trophy.

Captain

Fifth Season (2020-2021)

Vegas Knights

50 G, 75 A, 125 P, 75 GP

Received Hart Memorial Trophy.

Received Art Ross Trophy.

Received Ted Lindsay Award.

Alternative Captain

Fourth Season (2019-2020)

Vegas Knights

25 G, 30 A, 55 P, 40 GP

Received NHL Plus-Minus Trophy

Captain

Third Season (2018-2019)

Vegas Knights

48 G, 66 A, 113 P, 79 GP

Received Ted Lindsay Award.

Received Bill Masterton Memorial Trophy.

Signed a six year contract for 50 million and three million signing bonus.

Captian.

Second Season (2017-2018)

Vegas Knights

42 G, 65 A, 107 P, 78 GP

Received Ted Lindsay Award.

Received Hart Memorial Trophy.

Received Lady Byng Memorial Trophy.

Alternate Captain.

Rookie Season (2016-2017)

Pittsburgh Penguins

39 G, 63 A, 102 P, 75 GP

Received the Rookie of the Year award.

Received Art Ross Trophy.

Received Conn Smythe Trophy.

Received Hart Memorial Trophy.

Signed a Contract for 9 Million dollars for two years and a 1 million dollar signing bonus.

Won a Stanley cup.

OHL

Third Season 2015-2016

85 G, 120 A, 205 P, 75 Gp

Captain.

Won OHL Championship.

Draft Year.

Second Season 2014-2015

70 G, 107 A, 177 P, 68 GP

Alternative Captain.

Rookie Season (2013-2014)

56 G, 110 A, 166 P, 68 GP

First player to ever get exceptional Status and joined a year earlier.

Personal

Born September 14, 1998

Daughter of Troy and Tina Crosby

Has two siblings Sidney and Taylor

#augustcrosbyau #ac7 #nhl x reader #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes #jack hughes x oc #mitch marner x oc #mitch marner #dylan strome #connor mcdavid #edmonton oilers #pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby #jack eichel #brendan brisson #marc andre fleury

[lizzisimss]

Eccentric Pastel Apartment CC List:

CC used (list below) #402 Pinecrest Apartments in Evergreen Harbor 1 bed, 2 bath $76,073

ATS4 - https://sims4.aroundthesims3.com/index.shtml

· Bulk Grocery Jar Cookies

· Canisters Basic

· Canisters Hens

· Canisters vintage

Brazen lotus - https://www.brazenlotus.com/objects-d...:

· EP09 Second Chance Frames Pressed Flowers

· EP13 Laundry Made Essentials

charly pancakes - https://www.patreon.com/charlypancakes

· The Lighthouse Collection

· Insomnia Merged

· Munch Merged

· Smol Merged

· Soak Merged

felixandre - https://www.patreon.com/felixandre

· Shop the Look Season 1 Merged

· London Interior

house of harlix - https://www.houseofharlix.com

· Orjanic Merged

· Bafroom Merged

· Baysic Merged

· Harluxe Merged

· Livin’Rum Merged

· The Kichen Merged

harrie - https://www.patreon.com/heyharrie

· Country Collection

· Octave Merged

· Shop the Look

Kiwisim - https://www.patreon.com/Kiwisim4

· Block House

· Piha

leaf motif - https://leaf-motif.tumblr.com

· 2202 Magnolia Bathroom

· Aubrey Office

· Basil Chair

· Botanic Boudoir

· Calliope Bathroom

· Eloise Living

· Heirloom Kitchen

· Ivy Hallway

· Patron gift 1

· Patron gift 3

· Patron gift 4

· Patron gift 7

· Starlight Crystals

· Sunbeam Study

· Twee Tableware

· Vintage Crockery

lilis-palace - https://www.patreon.com/lilis_palace

· Intarsia Biedermeier Set

Littlecakes - https://litttlecakes.tumblr.com/downloadspage

· Poor Bunny

littledica - https://www.patreon.com/littledica

· Countryside Cabin Merged

· Eco Kitchen Stuff Pack Merged

· Sleek Slumber Stuff Pack Merged

· Deligracy Merged Cottage Living Update

Madlen - https://www.patreon.com/madlen

· Brizo Soap Dispenser

· Brizo Tumbler

Marvell - https://marvell-world.tumblr.com/download

· PS Painting Merged

max 20 - https://www.patreon.com/Max20

· Child dream kit

· Classic Kitchen

· Cosy Backyard

· Master bedroom pack

mlys - https://mlyssimblr.tumblr.com/

· Deco Deskop Globe

· Deco Storage Basket

my cup of cc -https://www.patreon.com/mycupofcc

· Colour Talk Kitchen Merged

· Colour Talk Dining Stuff

· Maple Manor The Modernist Collection Living Room

· Maple Manor Part 1

myshunosun - https://www.patreon.com/myshunosun

· The art room

· Daria Bedroom

· Dawn Living

· Dawn Storage

oni - https://www.patreon.com/oni28

· Antique Country Dining Bread Basket

· Vintage Living Room Living Storage

· Vintage Living Room Wall Paper

peacemaker - https://peacemaker-ic.tumblr.com/TS4O...

· Bayside Bedroom Set Merged

· Elsie Bedroom Basics

· Hinterlands Bedroom

· Hinterlands Living

· Hudson Bathroom

· Iris Seating

· Mina Kitchen

· Urbane Kitchen

· Bowed Arched Sideboard

pierisim - https://www.patreon.com/pierisim

· MCM All

· Oakhouse all

· Roldsov Kitchen

· The Office Mini Kit

· Tidying Up

· Coldbrew Coffeeshop

· Winter Garden

PixelVibes - https://www.patreon.com/pixelvibes

· Butterfly Sconce

· Fleur Lamp

simplisticsims - http://simplisticsims4.com

· Modern Chinoiserie Bedroom

· Art Klimt

· Bedroom Painting Gold

· Botaniucal Framed art

· Cottage Bed

· Painting indigo 2021

· RHckfridge

· Round jute rugs

· RPC Cotswolds rug

· Tot barn curtains

· Vintage country art

sixiamcc - https://imfromsixam.tumblr.com/

· Oak & Concrete Kit Merged

· Home Basics

· Luxbath

· Retro Vibes

SurelySims - https://surely-sims.tumblr.com/downloads

· Appliance CoffeeMaker

· Deco Coffee Can

Clutter Cat - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/thec...

· Busy Bee

· Petits Pirates

· Cat milk no 1 reloaded

· Cat milk no 2 reloaded

TUDS -https://www.patreon.com/TudTuds

· Beam Parte 2 V01 Merged

· Ind Merged

· Cross Merged

· Vime Closet Merged

awingedllama - https://www.patreon.com/awingedllama

· Apartment therapy inspired stuff v2 Merged

· Paranormal plants all

· Blooming room plants merged

Kaiso - https://www.patreon.com/kaiso

· Rusti co

Greenllamas - https://www.patreon.com/greenllamas

· KERV Collection

Tray files are available on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/lizzisimss

Please consider supporting if you wish :)

#lizzisimss #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 cc #sims cc #cc #sims 4 cc finds #sims cc finds #cc finds #sims 4 cc list #sims cc list #cc list #sims 4 cc links #sims cc links #cc links #patreon

[alexbkrieger13]

Could you please do an introduction of the hockey girls you like? I’m lost

Marie-Philip Poulin

Aka Pou

I know we talk a lot about who's the Goat in women's football and how you can really classify just 1 but with women's hockey there's no question it is her

She's played in 4 Olympics and scored the game winner in 3 of them

Along with an overtime winner in the world championships in 2021 she has four Golden goals

Currently the captain of pwhl Montreal and is the longest serving captain in Canadian National Team history

Engaged to Laura Stacey

Laura is 1 of the alternate captains for pwhl Montreal (kind of like vice captain in football terms)

she also has a golden goal from the 2018 Clarkson Cup (think of it like the nwsl championships)

Laura wears #7 cause it is the same number her great grandfather wore when he played

They are both forwards

They won gold in the 2022 olympics and the 2021 and 2022 world championships

They also have a dog called arlo

#did i forget to put this out a week ago...yes #but hey better late then never

[9w1ft]

9-

I was looking through old jewelry stuff and found a necklace Karlie wore for about 6 months, from about Sept 2019-April 2020. It was a gold disk that was engraved with “I can and I will” on it. As our resident jewelry expert, any theories on what that may have been about?

hello hello

thank you for your inquiry 😌

so this necklace is something that i assume was bought along with two other pieces from the same brand because they appeared around the same time and she wore them often interchangeably, and frequently together. the necklace is by Zoe Chicco.

in addition to this disc with the mantra “I Can and I Will” inscribed on it, the necklaces i associate it with are a strand of graduated gold disks and a ‘sunbeam medallion’ which she actually wore a ton on its own.

the mantra necklace was most frequently worn within the set of these three and at the time it felt very much like just, idk, a trendy layered look, and she wore them so often that honestly i did not keep track of the necklaces well. so i had to do a little bit of poking around.

so, for your perusal, here is an incomplete list of times she has worn at least one of the three pieces, based on an account that was documenting her looks at the time (link) and StarStyle (link):

~~

she starts out wearing either the graduates discs or the sunbeam necklace, from september 2019

9/5/2019 in china for the world cup

9/8/2019 to the US open

9/18/2019 papped outside in nyc

9/21/2019 papped in rome (scooter was around)

10/10/2019 on her instagram outside in nyc

10/21/2019 papped outside in nyc

10/30/2019 papped outside in nyc

then the mantra necklace appeared and there was a period where she started wearing the three as a layered look more often, sometimes two together, and sometimes just the mantra necklace:

11/1/2019 promoing adidas on her insta

11/15/2019 papped outside in nyc

11/26/2019 at the elk in nyc

12/8/2019 papped outside in nyc

12/21/2019 yachting in st. barthelemy

1/27/2020 when karlie was in LA

2/18/2020 amex valentine’s day dinner

4/23/2020 instagram live w katie couric

4/28/2020 the today show

4/30/2020 met gala bts video

5/1/2020 exercising on instagram

5/1/2020 on wes gordon’s instagram

5/5/2020 the tonight show

5/17/2020 instagram from her nyc place

5/19/2020 klossy video about how falling on the runway can help your career

from this point forward she started wearing the necklaces separately instead of all three at once (not the mantra medallion though as far as i could tell) from mid 2020 up through mid 2021. for the sake of brevity i won’t list everything up, but you can check StarStyle from the above link.

~~~

as for what the mantra means, you know, this is just a loosely formed thing but… i will offer a quick thought

in retrospect, she wore the necklace along with the other two during a very specific time period, right? a little after taylor’s masters were bought by scooter, all the way up until she headed for LA a few months into quarantine. so if you think about late 2019-early 2020 as being this time where everyone thought karlie further betrayed taylor and where karlie went to places or events where scooter was and such… and how following this period of time scooter’s infidelity was eventually exposed and he divorced and a lot of his business dealings soured, and we got songs like mad woman, vigilante shit, and karma —songs that i do believe show that karlie stuck around scooter and got dirt on him for taylor— then, within that context, i think that the mantra “i can and i will” is pretty… badass 🙈 like, if the amulette de cartier was for dark seasons of life that require courage, this mantra feels much more something suitable for… playing offense 😏

#jewelry #zoe chicco

[leelahsrose]

HONEY. | LIL MEECH

Hey y’all! Long time no see, I know it’s been a while since I’ve been on here + Wattpad but I am back for sure and ready to write again. For my comeback story I’ve decided to do a Lil Meech fanfiction, i haven’t seen anybody writing for him and I want to change that. Of course this is always going to be a black!reader! I hope you all enjoy, I already have the first three chapters written up for y’all so comment, like, + share for me! 🫶🏾❤️

chapter one.

“𝙄 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙚𝙧.” -Key Glock, circa 2021

12:30 PM

This story starts in the strip club, yes you read that correctly. The club. The place where there is a multitude of beautiful and seductive women? Yes, that's exactly where it starts. You might be thinking it will begin with a dancer herself, no? Maybe not, the club was always filled with lost souls every night. But, there was one diamond in the rough there. On the outside, she shines bright. Her energy as beautiful as the features on her face. The inside is where all the good stuff hides. In this story, only one person will bring it out of her. But, at what cost?

THE DIAMOND.

the story of

DETROIT.

khaleesi

PRESENT DAY.

"Big ol glock, nigga." Key Glock's cops & robbers shakes the whole Diamond. The beat bangs against the walls as the hundreds of people on the floor move in their own way. Red cups are held in the air, filled with a variety of alcohol. Hennessy, dussé, crown. Pulsing low blue lights fill the large room all the way up to the balcony, hundreds of dollars float slowly and down into the air as a dancer graces the sizable circle platform in the middle of the room. The way her body twists and turns around the pole was like art. Her heels clacked together loudly when the beat drops.

The Diamond is a two-story entertainment club with the most attractive and jaw-dropping women in Detroit. It was and currently is the hottest strip club in the city, the amount of money that filled the place on Friday & Saturday nights was thousands. Maybe millions. Everybody knew, if you wanted to have fun... the Diamond is the place to go. But, our story starts with Khaleesi Taylor.

"Cash rules everything around me." The song changes causing the lights to fade into a soft blush color. A young lady, 21 to be exact, sits at the bar with a shot glass in her hand. Her legs crossed and her walls up as her back rests against the counter. Khaleesi's dark eyes gaze up at her sister on the pole, her orbs filled with the pink lighting. She watched carefully as Kali's hands grip and hold the metal, the sound in her ears had tuned out. She had stayed hours with Kali to help her practice, motivating and being there for her.

Khaleesi sits her glass down and runs her hands down her thick thighs, her long & tall square nails were decorated with colorful decals and bright colors. Her glistening and smooth brown skin was rich, she found the time to moisturize using oil with lotion. It's what made her skin feel like a cloud. Her button nose had two gold piercings on each nostril, one of the small hoops has a yellow butterfly hanging freely.

Khaleesi wears a denim mini skirt, it was light blue. The top, a dark brown crop top with baby blue thick heeled-boots. Her tummy poking slightly through her skirt, for some, it was an insecurity but for her she loves her tummy. There's a black bag that hangs from her shoulder, the bundles in her head were thick & wavy: the silky tresses cascading down her back beautifully. A buss down jet black middle-part was her favorite style, she believes it really compliments her face.

She stands up and pulls at her skirt, Khaleesi had always been thick. It was a disadvantage & advantage at the same time, for example, she couldn't wear things like this without her cheeks showing. Sometimes, she just says fuck it. Her slithering gaze skims the club as the tip of her thumb sits on the edge of her lips. As she walks, the beat catches up with her. With every step her hips switch, her plump behind flowing like water. Times like this, she felt so confident.

The many eyes of men & women follow her, she waved at some of the girls that said hi to her as Khaleesi glides past to the dressing room. She comes to the back of the club where a matte black door stands. She flashes her wristband at the buff security, he nods and opens the door for her. In the room, multiple girls were walking around. Some naked, some screaming and chatting with friends, others getting dressed to go out on the floor. "Let's go girls! Get y'all asses ready!"

Khaleesi pushes her way to the corner were Kali was gathering her makeup and supplies quickly. Her head switches toward her sister sharply. "Girl, where the hell you been? We have to go asap!" Kali grabs the black bag and rips it open, she takes out a black sweatshirt and blue jeans. A pair of white tennis shoes came right after. "Dad's gonna kill us, fuck Leesi."

"We're gonna get back in time, don't worry. Besides, you know dad and mom sleep heavy as hell."

"We still have to go to the store and get some breakfast for this morning, remember, I told them I'd go shopping?"

"Fuck! Kali I told you to go before we left for the club." Kali pushes the bag into Khaleesi's chest as she walks past her. Her flosses and other stage outfits were packed into the bag. They come out of the dressing room quickly, the beginning of Brent Faiyaz's price of fame filling their ears. The drop of the beat shook Khaleesi's body to the core, her hips wanted to sway and move to the beat so badly.

"You know you need to pull your skirt down, daddy would kill you."

"Says the girl who was just in her damn floss on the pole." Kali rolls her eyes and grabs ahold of Leesi's wrist. They move as one through the crowd, pushing through the sweaty people and desperate men. "I'm glad we left anyway, ballers don't come out until later." Khaleesi says when they get outside, they walk beside one another heading to the bus stop. Shoulder to shoulder as they push one another playfully.

Kali holds on securely to another black duffel bag in her hand, it was full of ones and maybe if she was lucky 20s & 50s. She looks just like her younger sister but, obviously an older version. Kali was 24, Khaleesi 21. The warm and slightly windy air was comforting to the both of them, they grew up on a farm. It felt like being in the vast green fields back at home, it was freeing but, they were far from that.

They moved to Detroit at a young age, their father had got a high-end job and was transferred immediately to the city with their mother behind them. They live in a house in a nice neighborhood 10 miles from The Diamond. Their father works for a company downtown and man was it exhausting for him. Their mom, a stay at home mother who loves cooking more than anything. Kali, graduated senior, who works in the club secretly to make money for herself.

Khaleesi, a recently graduated senior, helps her sister out and not by dancing. She covers for Kali and supports her dancing career in the club, carrying her supplies and handing her what she needs when she gets dressed. "So... are you going to move out?" Khaleesi didn't want her sister to leave her, her voice held a certain kind of sadness. Their father and brother was incredibly overbearing hence, why Kali wanted to move.

Her father and Kali have a tension between them, she was more the rebellious sister and Khaleesi the sweet one who abided by all the rules. Kali didn't want to leave her sister but, it was only a matter of time before their father finds out about her night life. Then, she'll be kicked out instead of moving out. "I don't know, you know I can't leave you by yourself."

"Then take me with you, we can be roommates."

"It’s not that easy. You know dad and mom won't let you come with me, especially when they find out about me." The thought of her parents disowning her was terrifying, the two people she believes would love her forever. "Plus, they want you to go to college. I love dancing, no matter how much they don't understand."

“I don't want to go to college, why does everyone want me to go." Kali grabs her shoulder, stopping Khaleesi in her tracks. Her baby blue heels weren't clacking against the concrete anymore. The streets dead quiet, it was expected considering the time. "What?"

"You have to go, don't you wanna be something?" Khaleesi rips her sisters hand from her shoulder and steps in front of Kali.

"I can be something without college, not everyone needs a degree to go out and be something. Hell, I say as long as you're making money a job is a job."

"Tell that shit to dad, bookie." She rolls her eyes as Kali slides past her. Their father was adamant on Khaleesi going to college, when he couldn't get Kali to budge the responsibility fell on Leesi. "Let's go, the gas station across the street!"

"Wait for me!" They run across the empty street screaming happily, their black hair flowing behind them carelessly. Nights like these were the best, the most care-free. Even if they are away from their dad and brother’s strict rules & expectations for a couple seconds, it was always the best feeling however long it lasts. The gas station, no more than two minutes from the Diamond, was packed with hellcats. Cherry red, winter blue, and snow white chargers take up the gas pumps. The music echoing down the street engulfs the atmosphere, men sit on the hoods smoking, talking, and gambling.

"Kali, what's up ma?" They walk past a man in a tracksuit, he grabs ahold of her wrist holding her in place. This causes Khaleesi to stop in her tracks and run into Kali's back.

"Sir, we're tryna get some food." Kali nudges his forehead back and pulls her wrist away from him. "Holla at you later." One thing Kali didn't do was ditch her sister for a man, she didn't put anybody above her. He kisses his teeth and walks away pulling his hood over his head, Khaleesi sighs as they walk into the store.

"I didn't mean to scare away your guy friend."

"Girl please! I already fucked him a while ago. He won't leave me alone. If anything, you saved me." Kali laughs causing the corners of Khaleesi's lips to lift into a smile.

The two sisters walk into the store and are greeted with a booming voice. Nizhoni. Her dad owns the place but forces her to work night shifts on some weekdays and weekends. A green lollipop swirls between her full lips—her teeth drenched in grills. Her nails were cut into a stiletto shape and black as night.

"Leesi and Kali!" They walk over and lean against the counter, the small convenient store was crowded with teenagers and young people shopping & playing around. The TV blasting in the corner was showing a rerun of a football game, a group of older men gathered around it to watch carefully. "I love you two so much, you actually came to keep me company. You know the night life gets busy." Nizhoni collapses down on the countertop and sighs deeply.

She sits back up and pulls her hand purse from the side of her and on to the counter. Niz takes out a nail filer from her purse and begins to scrape it against her fingernails, Khaleesi lifts herself up and sits down on the tall counter. She grabs one of the 99 cent honeybuns from a rack and opens it, taking a big bite. "I know how much you love those little shits so I'll let you have it for free this time." 

"Thank you." Khaleesi tunes out the talking of Kali & Nizhoni, everything around her had seem to become dark and quiet as she chews on her honeybun. Her brown eyes observing the surroundings, she was the paranoid sister. Always watching. Always observing others behaviors and motives. A steady beat bangs in her chest, it seems to cause the whole gas station to vibrate. Everyone's eyes seem to land on the black SUV pulling up to one of the pumps.

The passenger side door opens and a young man jumps out of the vehicle. A smile wide on his face, the whiteness of his teeth dancing with the stations bright lights. Khaleesi's eyes were stuck on him, the way he carried himself was... attractive. Everyone else had paid no mind to him, going back into their own little worlds. Kali and Nizhoni didn't notice, they continued to talk.

Khaleesi didn't notice her breathing had changed, her chest moves up and down in a quick but steady pace. She tilts her head up a little trying to get a better look but, she didn't want to get caught looking in this man's direction. She watched as he converse, talking to other men as his tall figure leaned against the SUV. "I love to love you baby." Donna Summer's soothing voice echoes in the back of her mind, the music on the tv playing faintly but loud.

His cuban chains glistened beautifully in the light: there was one, no- two around his tattooed neck. He wears all black, long-sleeved shirt and joggers. Khaleesi couldn't stop staring at some of the rings on his thick fingers. The veins running through his hands show as he moves them around expressing what he was saying. He has a rough beard on his sharp jawline and a thin mustache going across his plump lips. The hood on his head lowers as he walks toward the door. A piece pushed into the side of his waistband, Khaleesi gasps softly and removes her eyes off of him.

The man has on colors that they were not suppose to associate with, Leesi's heart was thumping against her chest. They weren't usually welcomed on this side of town. But, could still come and go as they please. "We have to go, Kali." Her sisters eyes shift to her as she grabs her wrist.

"What's wrong?" Nizhoni nudges Kali's shoulder and they all look to the double doors. Kamari Parker pushes them open, he walks inside and the room falls silent. A soft green lighting from outside flows from behind him and into the store. Khaleesi didn't dare to look up, Kali had turned her head away as well. Her eyes glued to Nizhoni, Kali bulges her eyes at her begging for Niz to say something.

"Ohhhkay..." Kamari squints his eyes around the store, his heavy steps move around the room as he grabs a bag of chips. Khaleesi's thumb touches her bottom lip as she watches him, his deep voice is heard as he raps random lyrics. Niggas. His voice, Khaleesi couldn't control the sensation between her thighs. It rattled her, it held nothing but power. She quickly crosses her legs and averts her stare when he turns around and walks over.

"Wassup? Let me get a five pack, russian cream." The words that slipped from his lips were smooth and comforting, Khaleesi couldn't feel anything but timid in his presence. He felt familiar, he felt warming and reassuring. Leesi believed he would go after her sister, no one's ever chased after her. Everyone loves her sister, she was beautiful, charming, and a great dancer. And she was just known as Kali's little sister.

Khaleesi sighs and looks back towards the store, her eyes landing on the TV as she tunes out the rest of the conversation. "Let me get some oil too, mama."

"Give me a second and I'll come out there and put it in for you, baby." Nizhoni gently smiles and pops her lollipop out her mouth. Kamari smiles then licks his lips.

"Is it okay if shorty over there does it instead?" Kali and Nizhoni's eyes switch over to Khaleesi. Her big sister slaps her on the thigh to catch her attention, Leesi gasps and glares in Kali's direction.

"What the fuck, Kali?"

"This nice man would like for you to put some oil in his car." Kali has a forced smile on her face, she tilts her head towards the door. "Go on, now. I'll be watching you in here." Kamari grabs his bag of chips and backwoods, he walks backwards to the door. His eyes looked Khaleesi up and down, he bites his bottom lip and walks outside into the summer air.

"Kali, if Q finds out-"

"He's not here and we saw the way you were looking at him, bitch, go." She smiles and laughs with Nizhoni, Khaleesi hugs Kali tightly and runs to the entrance. She walks outside and her eyes automatically land on Kamari, his stare holds on her.

"Come on." He flicks his hand toward him, Khaleesi walks across the parking lot. Her heels slapping the ground as her hair falls gracefully around her shoulders. She heard a few whistles but easily ignored them, she could've sworn she saw a slight sneer or Kamari's face. He didn't like it. Parker lifts up the hood as Khaleesi stands beside his tall figure. She stopped exactly at his shoulder, she was tall herself. He removes the top and moves aside for Leesi. "It's all yours."

She glances over at him and sees he's resting against the car on his side. Just watching her. Khaleesi pours the oil in slowly, she bites her lip trying to concentrate. She could feel his eyes burning into her, her legs becoming weak and her mind was racing with thoughts. Stand up, girl! Khaleesi screams at herself in her head. "Is there a reason you're watching me like this?"

"Just making sure you good, you good?" Khaleesi looks up at him and that was a mistake. He looked so good, she was folding hard. His voice was soft, almost like a whisper but, still had a hint of raspiness.

"Yes, I'm good, thanks for asking." Khaleesi closes the top on the oil and walks past Kamari to throw away the bottle. The friends that he arrived with were gathered around the car talking amongst themselves. His eyes follow her behind as they move up her spine and to the hair laying on her neck. Khaleesi comes back toward him and he grabs her wrist softly.

"What's your name?" She didn't think he would ask her that, Khaleesi panics. They were not under any circumstances allowed to tell their names to enemies. What made him ask her name? Had she caught his attention?

"And why would you want that?" Khaleesi calms her self and begins to play along, she moves close to him. He leans back against the car, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You're beautiful, that's all. I've never seen you around."

"Oh, so you want my name so you can spy on me." Khaleesi smiles, Kamari's arm wrapping around her waist: he pulls her in and clenches his jaw. She turns her head and quietly gasps, she feels his eyelashes graze her cheek softly as he looks down at her body.

"I'm serious, can I please have your name?"

"I'm sorry, no." Khaleesi's finger grazes the skin under his chin. She bites her lip as he looks up in her eyes, he sits against the car.

"Why you wanna play like that?" A half smile rises on his lips, Kamari laughs then sits up. "That's aight, I'mma ask everybody in this motherfucka then." Khaleesi stops him from leaving her sight, she grabs his hand before he can walk away and pushes him on the side of the car. "Damn, nigga." A look of amusement on his face as he returns to his original position.

"Fine, it's Khaleesi. What about you?"

"People call me many names but, the only one you need to know is Kamari."

"Come on, Khaleesi!" Kali runs out and grabs ahold of her sisters wrist. "They're here." Khaleesi's heart drops to the pit of her stomach, she pulls away from Kamari quickly. "Nigga, this never happened." Kali glares at him and he furrows his eyebrows, his eyes never leaving Khaleesi's. He watches as they run and disappear into the night.

#blackgirlsarelit #lil meech #black!reader #fanfic #leelahsrose #erik killmonger x reader

[chuluoyi]

🥤 please??

hello nonnie !! thank you for asking!🥹

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

oh wow there are too many, so you can check my recs tag for full list! but if i have to choose ones whose fics currently stuck in my head right now...

@/gojonanami -> sab's stories will get you on rollercoaster of emotions. i think i have to establish that i'm one for fast reads and 10k+ fics aren't my cup of tea but reading her 10k+ fics don't feel dragging at all!! it's fast-paced and the dialogues flow so easily, i just love it🥹 fav fics: prof geto series, five times nanami about to confess to you, lower your guard

@/saintobio -> *sigh* anything she writes is gold :') i have been a fan of her ever since 2021 and back then i wasn't even a writer, i hadn't even watched jjk or hq, just a tired university girlie putting together her thesis and trying to find good reads. saint specializes in angst, and her words are woven so beautifully they never fail to make my heart hurt🥹 fav fics: wastelands, sincerely series, as you like it, dilf gojo

ask game

#—chu’s mailbox 📬 #ask game

[womanwithahotdogstand]

What do you think is the main issue when it comes to the USWNT and do you think they have a lot to prove at these upcoming Olympics given their last few past results?

This is my personal opinion and I would love for anyone with a different one to join in (keep it respectful, of course! 🥰)

US Soccer was/still is calling in the same 23 players into every camp (with the exception of a few as of VERY recently) including the 2021 Olympics roster AND the 2023 World Cup roster, when it has been abundantly clear for a long time (and still is) that these 23 players do not play well together for some reason.

The Vlatko era more or less had one starting line up. And it NEVER gelled. And instead of taking time in 2022 to try to fix it, experiment and call new people in — he doubled and tripled down on something that never really worked. No one can look me in the face right now and say a single USWNT game from the last 5 years that was a truly groundbreaking performance from the team.

I want more experimentation with our camp rosters and starting lineups and if that means blowing up the Olympics, as sad as that will make me because some of these players truly deserve to genuinely compete for a gold medal, than so be it I guess.

#uswnt