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#dogfight au
powderblueblood · 3 months
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I hope this isn't too random but I really like your taste in movies and media and one of my favourite movies ever is Dogfight (1991) with River Phoenix (which I think you'll like if you haven't seen it already) and I love the idea of a Dogfight AU with Eddie or maybe Steve. It's pretty convenient that the lead character's named Eddie in the film too lol. Anyway, I'm not making a request or anything like that I just wanted to say that ever since I started following your blog I've felt that you're the perfect kind of writer to do a story like that. I watched the movie again a few days ago and I was reminded of your blog and I kept thinking oh man if anyone could get this AU down the right way it would be powder
so I want to preface this with telling you that I hadn’t seen dogfight when I received this ask but I read this and I was like you know what. I’ve got nothing on this morning lets pop in a movie
and jesus christ anon, have you ever got my number. i really, really liked it. took a few notes during. this was one of them
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and i also got to thinking about this little sketch-- i mean, i have a bias towards wisecracking tragedy boy eddie munson lets be so serious, so i watched it with him in mind. (i also think there's such fertile real estate with steve as berzin-- i wanna talk about the marcie of it all with him!)
but you've got eddie, okay, eddie with a crew cut and a malaise that seems boyish but isn't. in boot camp, they cut off one of the last things that made him him (his hair, i am always thinking about his hair) and dressed him up to send him off to die.
on the one hand, he's dabbled in the counterculture by virtue of being an outsider all his life (he knows the war is fucked); on the other, he doesn't want to be a draft dodger like his father. the more he's surrounded by something like the rigidity and after-dark feral lost boy-ishness of the marines, the easier it becomes to surrender to it. forget himself. make a bunch of jarhead buddies and put money on a dogfight.
they're calling for okinawa in the morning. he's got twelve hours in frisco and a mission to find the ugliest date that he can.
and then he meets you.
you, and you are sweet and weedy in nature with a guitar in your hand, with hands you hold like there oughta be rosary beads webbed between your fingers. your shrine to joan baez and odetta holmes on the wall of your bedroom in the apartment above the diner that he stumbles into, sweating and desperate and running low on that classic munson charm, trying to find the gnarliest bitch hound in all of san francisco.
your hair is a little too done up in a poor imitation of girls in the magazines and you move your body like it's a constant obstruction, apologetic to everyone in your path. you're perfect-- for this. he asks you to a party, a party set up to humiliate you and amuse him and that's all well and good until--
you pluck off the chords of dink's song and you remind eddie of something he'd tried to beat down, you pressed little flower you.
and this eventual exchange.
'what are you grinnin' about?'
'i was just wondering what you'd look like with your hair a little longer and without that bruise on your face...'
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sweetheart, i need to have a fucking LIE DOWN. this really might end up on my WIPS by VIRTUE OF THIS ASK ALONE. DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I LOVE YOU
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Snitches Get Stitches Masterlist
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Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader
Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe
Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?
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Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (potentially eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.
A/N: This is my first time writing for any of the Top Gun characters so I hope y’all enjoy! I highly recommend you check out the blurbs for each character in the main San Diego Dogfighters universe masterlist but you won’t be completely lost without them.
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Main Series
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Oneshots
Daddy’s Queen
One Man’s Trash
Blurbs
Pudding Inspiration
Princess Pudding
Jake’s POV of Chapter 4 (aka Chapter 4.5)
Jake makes a matcha latte for the first time
Jake’s POV of Chapter 7 (aka Chapter 7.5)
Jake’s POV of Chapter 8 (aka Chapter 8.5)
Greedy
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slidersimp · 2 months
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Dog Football
A ficlet set in the same universe (au? narrative thread? story? Idk y'all) as my fic at my side in which Maverick gets a service dog named Tess for his PTSD post-TGM and the daggers fall in love with her immediately. Ft. occasional fun shenanigans to break up the sad emo content.
——
When Maverick looked up at a shadow covering his beach chair, the sound of footsteps on sand coming to a stop beside him, he wasn’t surprised to see Admiral Simpson standing beside him, hands on his hips as he surveyed the beach in front of them. He was surprised, however, to see the relaxed smile on the Admiral’s face. It was true they weren’t under a deadly time crunch like they had been the last time this little scene had played out, with the mission and all its disastrous consequences looming over all their heads, but a smile still wasn’t something he expected out of the Admiral under most circumstances. He was even more surprised when the Admiral glanced behind him, then sat down in the sand beside Maverick’s chair, uniform and all.
“Dogfight football?” Simpson asked, nodding towards the aviators in front of them.
At the waterline, the daggers were racing over the sand, throwing footballs between them and shouting. Since the last time they’d played, they’d started to get more of a handle on the game, figuring out something of a strategy, but the longer they went on, the more it descended into chaos. Not to mention a certain curveball that the aviators had been all too happy to introduce.
“Not quite.” Maverick told the admiral, his eyes on a single figure within the group. “Dog football. They came up with it themselves.”
The daggers had opted to keep both footballs, though at least one of them—or both, for one rather comical moment—was almost always in the mouth of a certain German Shepherd, Tess. Maverick watched the daggers chasing her into the water while they scrambled with the other ball, trying to lead her over to their respective sides or entice her back to the field of play. He wasn’t sure Tess had any idea what the rules were, but she was running circles around the daggers, evading their grabs for the ball and lighting up cheers of triumph or shouts of dismay whenever she raced into an endzone marked by a line carved into the sand.
“It looks like they’re still doing offense and defense.” Simpson observed. They watched Coyote take a sliding dive for Tess, grabbing for the football in her mouth before she dodged away, tail wagging. “Did they add any new rules for her?”
Maverick shrugged. “I’m not sure I understand it anymore, to be honest. They’re not allowed to tackle her, but that’s my rule.” 
Simpson nodded. “Smart.”
“And, I think if she scores in an endzone it gives the team more points than if a human scores.” 
Maverick watched Rooster rush past Tess, lightly shoving her playfully, lunging away and continuing to run to lure her to follow him. She was hot on his heels as he raced towards his endzone until Phoenix whistled loudly, slapping her thighs and calling for her to come her way instead. Rooster hurried to redirect her with his own calls and Maverick and Cyclone watched the opposing struggle until Payback and Fanboy slid in the sand to reach Tess, fighting to wrestle the football from her grip.
“It’s been a lot of this.” Maverick told Cyclone.
Shouts erupted from the sand as Fanboy pried the football from Tess’s jaws, nearly dropping it in the sand. He scrambled to get control of it, tossing it to Hangman before Phoenix could snatch it from his hands.
“Tess! Go long!” Jake was at the back of the pack, but he raised the ball and Tess knew exactly what he was offering, taking off sprinting towards the other end of the sectioned off patch of sand. He threw the ball hard and the aviators all watched it fly, the other football forgotten.
Tess caught the pass in the air, landing just beyond the line marking the end zone and the aviators erupted into a chaos of cheers and screams. Maverick watched Rooster nearly knock Hangman to the ground as he launched himself at him with a shout of triumph. Hondo’s whistle singled the end of the game, and Cyclone patted Maverick’s shoulder.
“Keep up the good work.” 
Maverick grinned. “It’s good to see you, Admiral.”
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aviatrix-ash · 4 months
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Continuing that silly Spaceport Au comic I started a while back. Happy to finally put Splendid Prime into a comic. :3
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...he's joking! Would never eat a doggo-
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rubyreduji · 7 months
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an underrated musical imo is dogfight like the music is SO GOOD and the premise is so <<//33 ugh i love it
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l1xvanter · 4 months
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SKZ fic recs !!
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-- most of these are felix, and some of them are jisung and minho :3
-- {❤️‍🩹} = angst {💋} = mature/suggestive {💞} = fluff || pink means personal favorite !!
-- they are organized by member and word count
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⟡ ᶻz﹒l.felix﹒➳﹒
should i stay or should i go? 1.6k by @sachifukyo ❤️‍🩹
take a chance 2.4k by @smuttystraykidsthoughts 💋💞
soulmates 2.8k by @writingpei 💞
23.02 4.1k by @lettersfromaphrodite 💋💞
that hufflepuff boy 5.1k by @kkami-writes 💋💞
kinktober day 5 5.7k by @dreaming-medium 💋
why does it hurt 6.7k by @skz317cb97 ❤️‍🩹💋💞
hey, hey, golden boy! 11k by @staysuki ❤️‍🩹💞
dogfight 12.1k by @bbujiikseu-archived ❤️‍🩹💋💞
matters of the head and heart 13.1k by @skzsauce01 💞
warm light at daybreak 14k by @moonflowerchanniesgirl ❤️‍🩹💞
felix navidad 16.4k by @candlewaxandp0lar0ids ❤️‍🩹💞
forgive me for what i haven’t done 17.5k by @rachalixie ❤️‍🩹
beauty and the beast 18.8k by @comet-falls ❤️‍🩹💞
lee felix’s guide to hating you 21k by @yyxgin ❤️‍🩹💞
seasons 24k by @moonjxsung ❤️‍🩹💋
aurora 21.8k by @changbunnies ❤️‍🩹💋💞
★﹒﹒l.minho﹔﹪﹒➔
call of the siren 5.7k by @tasteleeknow 💋💞
when we twisted shadows back into stars 15.3k by @skazoo ❤️‍🩹💞
out of my mind 15.6k by @luvknow ❤️‍🩹💞
swordsman 16.5k by @missinghan ❤️‍🩹💞
the enemies to lovers project 18k+by @softukiyos ❤️‍🩹💞
conflict, conceal, confess, 18.1k by @fizzydrink698 💋
in another lifetime 18.9k by @luvknow ❤️‍🩹💞
labyrinth 20k by @soobnny ❤️‍🩹💞
fields 23.5k by @hoes4lino ❤️‍🩹💞
lost in translation 26.5k by @moonjxsung ❤️‍🩹💋💞
୨୧﹑h.jisung ﹕ ‧₊˚ ⋅
on my mind 8.6k by @staytheword 💋
catfish…? 9.2k by @seungminheart 💋
sakura 12.4k by @j-0ne25 💋💞
series !! (all felix x reader) ༻*ੈ✩
happy pills by @seospicybin 18.7k words total; finished ❤️‍🩹💋💞
[a cute series for a quick read <3]
twin flame series by @seospicybin 31.2k words total; finished ❤️‍🩹💋💞
[caused emotional trauma tbh, i was crying at 2am]
fairy flowers by @hyunsvngs 36.8k words total; finished ❤️‍🩹💋💞
[this one is insanely fluffy and cute i liked almost died from how sweet it was]
too hot to handle series by @seospicybin 38.5k words total; finished 💋💞
[this series also has versions for leeknow, chan, han, and changbin]
off the deep end by @stayxlix 82.3k words; ongoing ❤️‍🩹💋
[words cannot begin to explain how good this series is, if you have some time and sanity to spare, please read this !!!]
bodyguard au by @skzdarlings 110k words total; finished ❤️‍🩹💋💞
[INSANELY GOOD. please read this, it also has a oneshot that goes with it. went through hell and back while reading this i was so invested.]
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diejager · 3 months
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My deep dark desire for a distillery au wherein each force is a competing distillery and you yeet an expert taster reader in there who is in charge of judging each whisky and ranking them. Either they are pulling out all the stops on your tour and treating you like a princess or doing the opposite and threatening you to rank them the highest :')
Mhairi, I am the worse person to ask about whiskey, my parents have delicious smelling ones, fruity and spicy ones, but taste wise? I gag like there’s no tomorrow, especially gin!! I hate gin. The only thing I can stomach so far is sweet, coffee and cream flavoured Baileys Irish Cream. (I know there’s Irish whiskey in it, but it’s only 17% compared to the 40% of any other whiskeys)
Eau De Vie Cw: Alcohol drinking, whiskey taste, tell me if I missed any.
Whisky had always been your favourite, your little secret that you shared with your closest friends alone —your penchent for judging whiskeys and bourbons alone, managing to include rum and brandy in rare occasions. So when you were approached by a known figure in the Whiskey industry that acted as the face for many distilleries across the world, you couldn’t turn down the offer when you were given so much in a simple deal.
You were responsible to drink and rank many popular brands by taste and smell alone, the only person delegated to become the judge. You were given the privilege of taking home a bottle of each brand after this competition, another reason to accept it. So you signed the contract without a second of hesitation, shaking her hand to conclude the deal before she left you squirming with excitement in your office home.
You were flown from your city to a calm part of the Scottish countryside, a chalet overlooking the Scottish highlands and its green beauty. This was the quaint house you would temporarily live in with the rest of the team orchestrating this friendly competition, leaving the connecting house up the cliff side to the different distilleries. From what you’ve heard, Kate Laswell - Kate you called her after a few meetings that had fully bloomed into a friendship of alcohol connoissoir - the participating teams were the British company 141 - who in coalition to Chimera and the ULF - would represent their alliance, the American Shadows, the multi-national KorTac and the Russian brewery Konni. They were all popular brands distilling whiskey and brandy in their own countries, creating a plethora of tastes and sensations that would explode on your tongue after a few sips.
You were ecstatic, your mouth salivating at the simple thought of tasting the finest whiskeys from around the world, but you had a few days to rest and tour the side of Scotland you were shipped to. What you expected to be calm and mild-mannered men and women from their side of the world to meet and eat with refined etiquette, was shattered the second you peered through the door after walking down the connecting path from your chalet to their house.
They were loud, rambunctious in the very sense of it, loud and jovial, hurling insults and hissing out jeers at one another. It was a dogfight between brewers, like cats and dogs. You felt like a stranger, gawking at the group hurling words at one another until it all stopped, the open living room falling in silence when they heard you drop your bag on the polished wood. You’ve never seen humans move so fast until the second after the silence, scrambling to clean the room up and wooing you with their compliments and sweet pleasantries to appease you.
They gave you a tour of the house, the rich wine cellar that was open to you whenever you wanted a drink, the wooden patio that had it’s own lounge and bar, and the various rooms in the mansion-like chalet. They all vied for your attention, ripping one another’s throat to have a second of your attention, kissing up to you with sweet compliments and even sweeter praises.
The Brits - well, three English and one Scott - were a good mix of mature and zealousness, low voices and near-overwhelming figures with their broad shoulders and stocky mass. They came with other people to represent their company: Farah and her devoted Alex from ULF, and the crude Nikolai and Krueger from Chimera.
The Shadows were American, the most American you’ve ever seen, energetic and determined to win you over, and the CEO, a man with a southern accent and a seductive smirk, swiping you off your feet with pet names that made you fluster.
KorTac had as many accents as they had people of different countries, both men and women skilled in multiple languages and conversing so fluently that you started to question if you were on the same planet.
Konni was rough on the edges, their leading figure as scheming as he was gentlemanly, his thin lips letting out the most vicious praises to have you squirming under his dark gaze and unmoving determination for the win.
Days later, you met them at the compound farther down the road, away from the beauty of the coast and cliff, a long table exposing their finest to you. Poured in a cups, one with ice and another without, they were left for you to decide which would win the prize for both straight and on the rocks. Today was the day you would nominate one as the best, standing higher than everyone else without bias despite the times they rendered you a flustered mess and made you unendingly grateful for their help.
Your pallet exploded with flavour every time you sipped on a different brand, eyes rolling to the back of your head with the deliciousness of every bottle. 141 brought three bottles of their aged whiskey: a smoky Scotch Whisky made in the same Highlands you were tasting it, the bitter spiciness of rye whiskey from the American branch of the ULF - credits to Alex for introducing it - and the woody and fruity aroma of Chimera’s whiskey. Shadows had brought - unsurprisingly - their most popular types of whiskey to the table: Bourbon made in their own distillery in Kentucky, a sweet and mellow sub-type of their first one and the smooth flavour of their wheat whiskey. KorTac had a large variety to it’s collection: a floral tasting whiskey that outmatched Hibiki Harmony, a nutty sensation of a bottle made in Ireland and the rich and peaty on of a danish-made bottle. And finally, three Russian bottles from the biggest distillery in Russia: a sweet and smoky bottle, a second one with rich malt and honey, and a third focusing on aroma with it’s spicy odour and fruity taste.
They were all so delicious, if you had these bottles when you working at the bar, mixing concoctions for paying clients, you would’ve been overjoyed, but those days were long gone, your priority standing elsewhere than fulfilling your dream. Truthfully, you didn’t know who to give the medal, the flavours so vast and unique. Perhaps they wouldn’t mind if you took a second or third sip just to be sure.
Part 2
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake
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wearerandomlyyours · 9 months
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I had the goddamned strangest dream which led to a weird story idea but I have no clue if I'll ever get around to writing it:
TimeTravel!AU where post Layton IceMav end up back in time in WWII, and after convincing the US that they're not spies (Ice: I'm a goddamned Polish Jew you think I'd willingly spy for the Axis? Interrogator: That's fair) they convince the Navy to let them fly for them.
It's a little rocky at first, having to get used to much slower aircraft, but once Ice and Mav settle in, they're deadly. Their kill counts quickly soar past Ace to Ace-of-Aces, with whoever is in the top spot swapping dogfight to dogfight.
It takes three years for the Luftwaffe to finally take out the two deadliest pilots to ever fly, sacrificing 20 of their brand new jet fighters to bring them down, losing over half in the process.
Iceman and Maverick wake back up in the future and finally understand why everyone had always compared them to the legendary WWII pilots 'Blizzard' and 'Wild Thing'.
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hlficlibrary · 21 days
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HL Fic Library 💙 Disabled Character Fics
Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.
✨ Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction {E, 153k}
There is a prestigious school in the British Royal Navy classified as Premier Delta - or as it is known by its flyers, 1D. These select pilots are an elite set of Naval lieutenants who are trained in the skill of aggressive aerial combat. They are instruments of war, trained in times of peace. They are dogfighters, relentless and fearless in their mission to protect their beloved country. From their lofty vantage, they are always watching, waiting, and ready to lay it all on the line.
Lt. Harry Styles, call sign Sparrow, is a prodigy when it comes to flying. The owner of an unrivaled Naval pedigree, being a pilot was always written in the stars for Harry. With his trusty RIO, Lt. Niall Horan, Harry has made an unprecedented ascension in the ranks of the Naval aerial combat elite, and has been recruited to the esteemed Premier Delta flight school, carrying on his family’s legacy. What he finds there are unexpected friendships, perilous challenges, and something beyond what he ever thought possible. Because as his father had always told him, before the great Captain Styles went tragically missing in combat, you don’t fall in love with the sky, you fall in love with what keeps you on the ground.
✨ And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 109k}
For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him?
For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart?
And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?
A story of love. A story of loss. A story of fighting for each other, no matter the odds.
✨ We're What's Right In This World by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite {E, 48k}
“Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to die?”
“It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally.
The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”
Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.”
“Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the sea. Promise me.”
“I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you something I can’t cheapens the things I can.”
Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.
✨ Seeing Blind by zedi {E, 46k}
Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”
OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.
✨ It Feels Different When You’re With Me by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings {M, 45k}
Harry fell in love with sign language as a kid. He never imagined the first love of his life would lead him straight to his second.
✨ fondre ton absence by @scrunchyharry {T, 41k}
Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him.
It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life.
When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died.
Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in.
He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?
✨ Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16 {E, 30k}
It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.
Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago
✨ my strange girl by curlockholmes / @dykesteddie {E, 30k}
Harry works in a cafe kitchen; making bagels, snarking with Zayn, and generally trying to exist as an autistic girl working in hospitality.
Louis is the captain of the local women's rugby team who takes a shine to her.
✨ To Give You a Hand to Hold by gettingaphdinlarry {NR, 26k}
When he spoke again, Harry’s voice was low. “Ever think of how many birthdays they don’t get?”
Louis avoided Harry’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Martinez was what, nineteen? Missed a good sixty of them.” Harry took the last of his cake and passed the plate to Louis. “Figure sixty missed birthdays each. Just on our side. How many is that?”
Louis used the edge of his fork to scrape frosting off the plate. “Never thought about it.”
“What would your shrink say?”
“‘Focus on the positive.’”
Harry ran a hand over his head and scratched the back of his neck. “How’s that working?”
Marine Louis Tomlinson is medically discharged when an IED explodes in Afghanistan. Months later, he's reunited Stateside with his Navy medic Harry Styles. The two of them shelter each other even as they refuse to admit they're in the throes of PTSD, until one night nearly destroys them.
✨ the dead things we carry by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics {M, 25k}
September ‘49  He hasn’t seen him since that day in France, that horrible muddy day where for one terrifyingly long second, Louis really thought he was going to die. He winces with the phantom pain, the hand not holding his cane going to his stomach automatically, remembering the franticness, the tenderness, of Harry’s hands while Louis was bleeding out.
This is the man who saved Louis’ life.
For one second, Louis fears Harry won’t recognise him, but his eyes widen when he turns to his left and they meet Louis’. He takes a step forward, reaching for him with a shaky hand before stopping himself.
“Louis,’ Harry says with a shudder and Louis doesn’t think his name has ever carried more weight.
This is the only man Louis ever thought about kissing for real.
“Oh,” Mrs. Padley says, clearly taken aback. “You two know each other?”
There are some things people never fully come home from. Until, one day, if they’re lucky, home comes to them.
✨ Don't Act Like It's a Bad Thing to Fall in Love by nightwideopen / @themarshalstale {G, 23k}
Louis was born blind, completely blind, leaving him with nothing but the absolute blackness that his lack of vision produces.
Harry, on the other hand, is deaf. No sound can be registered by the two tiny ears his rowdy, chocolate curls obscure so well.
The first time Louis and Harry meet, it’s sort of an accident.
✨ the sanctity of patience by @scrunchyharry {T, 22k}
When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through. His illusions came crashing down when he understood it meant living in isolation in the alpine castle of Neuschwanstein with a husband who turned out to be far from what he had hoped for.
His illusions vanished, Harry will have learn to appreciate what has and even, perhaps, fall in love with his imperfect husband and his castle.
✨ some evening in springtime by delsicle / @eeveedel {M, 20k}
Fresh out of veterinary school, Louis moves to a sleepy small town in Texas to take over the local animal clinic. But his new life is quickly interrupted by a middle aged rancher with a bad leg and a mysterious past, who really needs Louis's yoga skills.
✨ Blind Faith by @2tiedships2 {M, 18k}
“Harry?” Liam prompted.
“I’m blind,” Harry eventually said, trying his best to keep himself from crying.
Liam was silent for a few moments, before responding, “That’s not exactly news, H. You were blind when I met you a year and a half ago. Have you been in denial this whole time or something?”
“No, Liam,” Harry cut in. “This is different. I’m not legally blind like I used to say. It’s not just my night vision. The tunnel from my tunnel vision has closed. I’m fucking blind! I moved halfway around the world in the hope of finding my soulmate and it’s obviously not happening now. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not even a soulmate is going to want to put up with a blind alpha."
✨ Our love is special because it's you and I (series) by sweetkisses {NR, 11k}
"So what are you studying?" Harry asks.
"Accounting." Louis says quietly.
"Sweet. I don't know much about accounting but I do know that it means you must be pretty damn smart." Harry says nodding his head.
"Thanks." Louis giggles out and Harry didn't know it was possible for him to be more beautiful. "What, um, what are you studying?"
"Law." Harry says and lays his legs out in front of him as he places his hands behind him and tilts his head towards the sun.
"You must be pretty smart if you're studying law." Louis mocks with a smirk. Harry didn't expect the next words to ever come out of his mouth but this boy just does things to him.
"Two smart people make a genius couple."
or the four times Harry sees the beautiful boy in the wheelchair
✨ Heart Eyes by @snowy38 {E, 10k}
He fidgeted nervously, long fingers pushed through his soft fringe, fingertips lingering on the thick curls that he felt formed there. He hoped his hair looked okay. He hoped he looked okay.
He hoped-
“Oi oi!” Niall’s loud, Irish voice cut into the small space along with the loud chatter of the party; the door assumingly opened. He swallowed.
“Fuck off!” A northern accent complained; the sound of bodies wrestling before it went quiet again; the clunk of the lock confirming to him that his suitor was now locked inside.
Harry knew the voice. He knew. And if he hadn’t known the voice, he would have known the smoky, sweet scent of the boy before him. Seventeen years old, friends since they were eight, and they’d never been pushed into the kissing cupboard together before.
✨ Deep Within The Mystery of Your Eyes (I Am Home At Last) by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey {M, 10k}
It's a world where you discover your soulmate after skin contact and finding your world exploding in colour. Louis has been blind his entire life. He makes do quite well, thank you very much, and he's glad that he doesn't have to see colours fade in and out of his world. Harry trains disability dogs, and, during a chance meeting with Louis at a local market, he discovers that Louis' his soulmate. He comes up with a wild scheme - train his current dog to be the perfect dog for Louis - in order to keep Louis in his life, and maybe convince him they're soulmates.
✨ the pain never leaves, but neither do you. (series) by Anonymous {M, 10}
Harry has fibromyalgia and Niall is an idiot, leaving Louis to bump into Harry at 6am in a hospital corridor. It ends up as something much more wonderful than Harry ever could have expected, stood with a walker in his ratty PJs after a nasty flare-up, and he finally finds someone who can love him just the way he is.
✨ I Roll 'til I Change My Luck by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus {T, 8k}
Dating is hard enough when you're gay. When Louis reveals to his Tinder matches that he uses a wheelchair and has a service dog, things tend to get even more complicated. Too bad the guys on dating apps aren't as sweet and understanding as his best friend Harry...
✨ Struggle by @1diamondinthesun {NR, 3k}
Louis had accepted long ago that he would always be alone in the world. Yet he often wondered what defined us as people: the cards we’d been dealt, or how we played them to survive.
Or, Louis is living with a chronic illness and growing tired of going it alone.
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powderblueblood · 3 months
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Hi I'm the dogfight anon. I'm so happy you liked it!!! I had a feeling it would be your kind of movie. It's such an underrated gem and I recommend it to people all the time. I came across it because I was in my River Phoenix era a few years ago (btw I just want to shoehorn in that I think he's the only one who had hair as nice as Joe Keery's in my very humble opinion. Just not in this movie though haha) and I couldn't believe that more people haven't heard of it because it's so so good!
Steve as Berzin? you're so fucking right for that and everything else you said about Eddie is pure perfection omg I can picture it all so vividly
'what are you grinnin' about?'
'i was just wondering what you'd look like with your hair a little longer and without that bruise on your face...'
I'm about to chew my own arm off this is fantastic!!!
No pressure at all because I know you've got HAI and the sequel in the works but if you do happen to write a dogfight AU I will spontaneously combust with joy. To see that story through your lens and in your writing would be a dream. The restaurant scene in your writing??? I would DIE DIE DIEEEEEEEE
If you have any more thoughts at any time PLEASE post them because I will eat them the fuck up. I will inhale that plate clean because I am famished for this
the restaurant scene made me SCREAM! these kids running out to get a dinner jacket because 'eddie doesn't have appropriate funeral wear' and 'i'll have the fucking poached salmon with the son of a bitching rice with the dirty bastard salad and a shitload of roquefort dressing. and who knows what this asshole wants'
i'm obsessed. this is going to be noodling away in my brain for a while and i can't thank ya enough for putting me onto it, anon <3
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One Man’s Trash
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Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader
Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe
This oneshot is a companion to the fic, “Snitches Get Stitches” but can be read alone.
Summary: You and Jake consider growing your family
CW: 18+ ONLY, fluff, angst, discussions of having kids and parenting. No use of Y/N.
A/N: Wishing the happiest happiest birthday to @fanficfandomlove 🥰 Nat!!! I love you so much, I hope you enjoy your present~
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“Bunny come on, just consider it.”
“Jake Seresin,” you place your hands on your hips and try your best to keep a stern expression on your face as your boyfriend gives you puppy eyes rivaling those of the actual dogs on the screen in front of him. This discussion has been occurring more and more often and you’re starting to feel your resolve slipping. Jake wants another dog. With you so early on in your career, you’d expressed your desire to wait to get married and have kids until you’ve had time to get your feet under yourself, and Jake, ever the respectful partner, had supported and agreed with your decision. An unforeseen side effect, however, was that instead of baby fever, your boyfriend has come down with a severe case of puppy fever. He spent every spare moment looking at shelter websites and showing you photo after adorable photo of puppies up for adoption.
It’s not that you don’t want another dog. You love Pudding but she’s always going to feel like Jake’s dog, no matter how much the two of you love each other, to the point that Jake constantly complains that she likes you more than him. And the house is more than capable of housing another pup. Even with its single-floor layout, the backyard is open to the beach and it's perfect for a dog. And yet despite all that, you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at your heart at the idea of leaving yet another dog at home when you and your boyfriend are busy jetting around the continent for work, sometimes for weeks at a time. Sure, right now you had an ideal situation with your parents being empty nesters just two hours away in Anaheim, and more than willing to babysit Pudding while the two of you were out of town, but that was an arrangement formed out of necessity. Willingly bringing another dog into your anything-but-consistent lifestyle made you feel like a bad parent. It was another reason you were holding off on kids. Jake, of course, who was more used to this lifestyle didn’t feel that same guilt the way you did and he’d even gone so far as to bring it up when you were at your parents’ house for dinner last. Your parents enthusiastically expressed their support and willingness to take care of yet another dog should you choose to get one. You know part of that is due to the fact that your parents have decided that despite being their youngest child, you’re likely going to be the source of their first grandchild. They want to be as supportive of your and Jake’s relationship as possible to get to that point since Charlie is married to his job and Tucker’s currently single and busy with his career.
You watch Jake’s brow furrow and feel a different stab of guilt in your chest. You don’t mean to be so cold to him but you just want him to consider your point of view and reservations. The smart thing to do would be to wait until the off-season at least before taking on a new member of your family, but he’s insatiable. “Fine, Bugs,” he says and you feel your heart squeeze at the coldness in his tone. He closes the laptop and gets up from the counter. You feel frustrated tears making your nose tight. You don’t want to fight with Jake but he can just be so damn stubborn sometimes, and while it’s one of your favorite qualities in him, it’s also been a point of contention in your relationship.
You’re left alone in the kitchen, fighting back the tears until a wet nose presses into your hand and you look down, blinking past the tears to smile at Pudding, who’s gazing up at you with concern in her honey eyes. You squat down and wrap your arms around her fluffy neck, burying your face in her fur as the tears escape. She nuzzles you gently, placing a paw on your bent knee, whining softly in concern. When your tears finally stop, you decide to take some space to breathe and grab your keys and Pudding’s leash. You load her into the back seat of your new SUV. Your heart aches at the memory of Jake surprising you with it for your birthday. He’d been chiding you about getting a new car longer than you'd been dating but you’d been hesitant to spend the money, so after a careful line of questioning and a few times he’d been able to coax you to test drive some cars for the hell of it, he’d surprised you with the forest green SUV that was bigger than you needed but Jake insisted it was a safer option than a car.
You feel your heart pinch again as you drive to the nearest dog park, wishing Jake was with you. Going to the dog park as a little family was one of your favorite things to do on your precious days off and you can’t help but feel his absence like a dull ache in your chest. You hate fighting with Jake. By the time you get to the park, you’re ready to turn right back around and go home but you can tell that Pudding’s excited even if she can tell that something’s wrong.
You manage to play for about an hour or so before wrapping up with a long walk around the park and heading home as the sun begins to sink below the horizon. Jake’s not home when you return and your heart sinks. You’re eager to set things right with him, but you force yourself to cook dinner, leaving some out for him, before climbing in the shower. The tears come again, then, at the idea that Jake may not be coming home tonight. Your shoulders shake with sobs as the shower water mixes with your tears. When you finally leave the shower, the water has long since run cold and you get dressed for bed in a daze, exhaustion sitting heavy on your bones.
When you pad out of the bathroom, however, your heart lifts at the sight of Jake sitting in bed, reading whatever coach’s biography he was currently working through. He doesn’t seem to have noticed your presence, that or he’s ignoring you, and if that’s the case you can’t take it. You approach the bed cautiously, climbing in, and Jake starts, “Hey Bunny, how was your sh-“ he’s cut off as you scoot across the bed at lightning speed and curl against his side, inhaling his scent and letting it ground you even as you shudder against him. “Bunny? What’s going on, sweetheart?” He puts the book down, his full attention on you as you don’t answer, and simply curl closer. Jake pulls his arm free from under you and wraps it around your shoulder and you feel your body relax into his touch.
“I’m sorry, Jake.” You blurt and hate the way it sounds wet and weepy as your tears flow once again. He stiffens underneath you and then his other hand reaches for your chin, guiding your face up to his so he can see the tears coursing down your cheeks, alarm in his eyes.
“Sorry for what? Bunny, what’s going on?” You blink, surprise stopping your tears as confusion takes over.
“For earlier, about the dog,” you blubber tearfully. “I hate fighting with you and I should have been more patient-“
“Fighting with me? Bunny, I’m not mad at you,” he says, surprise lighting his eyes flecked with pain. “Was I frustrated in the moment? Yes, but I’m not mad at you sweet girl, I could never be mad at you over something like that.” You blink up at him.
“Then where did you go? You were gone so long I thought you weren’t coming home tonight,” his eyes widen and he wraps his other arm around you, pulling you closer.
“Oh Bunny, I told you this morning I was golfing with the guys this afternoon and we’d probably do drinks after.” You’d completely forgotten about that. “I figured you and Pudding went out to have a girls’ day, I didn’t realize you were upset or I wouldn’t have gone, I’m sorry.” You shake your head against his chest.
“No, I’m sorry, I should have articulated better and not just assumed you were angry at me. And I really am sorry Jake, about telling you no about the puppy. It’s been just as hard for me as it has been for you.” You pause and Jake seems to know you have more to say so he waits patiently. “I haven’t been fair to you. I know I’m asking a lot to wait before we have kids, and you’ve been so respectful of that. And I know this is a natural compromise but I can’t help but think about how irresponsible it feels right now and… it makes me feel like a bad mom.” Your voice gets softer at the end but you know he heard you as he pulls back so he can look you in the eye.
“Bunny, first I want you to know that you should never feel guilty about wanting to wait to have kids. You’re right, neither of us are ready for that right now. I’m lucky enough to have a girlfriend that travels with me to my games, if I had to trade that for kids? I’d pick you every time. Kids can wait, I want to enjoy you, just you, for a little bit longer. Second, I know you just want what’s best for us and this puppy, and I know I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on you to make this happen sooner rather than later and I’m sorry. I know you’re right about waiting until the off-season and I’m sorry I haven’t been receptive.” He leans in to press a kiss between your eyes. “Third, you’re not a bad mom. You never will be, not when you care this much. You’re not impulsive, you’re level-headed and you care so much it hurts you. You’re such a good mom to Pudding and you’re going to be the perfect mom to our future puppy and kids.”
You sniffle, leaning back down to lay your head on Jake’s chest. “I really do want a puppy, you know? I want to raise them together, and I don’t want to miss a single second of it, which is why I want to wait. So know that as much as you want to get one as soon as possible, so do I, the timing just isn’t right right now.” Jake nods above you.
“I know, sweet girl.” He kisses the top of your head. “You know I love you, don’t you?” You nod.
“I know, and I love you too, Jake.”
“That’s my girl. We’re a team, even when we disagree, remember that. And we’re not going to make any decisions for this team without agreeing about it first, okay?” You nod again and he eases the two of you down to lay down in bed, reaching over to turn off the lamp.
***
Two weeks later, you’re running late. You’re supposed to be meeting Jake and the rest of the team at a restaurant downtown now that the game in Anaheim is over. You would have driven up with Jake but you had some things to finish up in San Diego before the game against the Ducks that evening in Anaheim. The guys had decided to drive to the game instead of taking the jet since it’s basically local and they were anxious to spend a day at home after a long road trip even if they had one last road game before the next stretch in San Diego. You’re wrapping up the last of your preparations, Pudding at your side. She doesn't usually attend away games but your parents came to the game and brought her so she can come home with you and Jake after almost two weeks apart. Jake had offered to take Pudding with him but she’d been glued to your side to his dismay. Now she’s waiting patiently as you load up your gear and various forgotten articles you’d found during a final sweep of the locker room. You swing the trunk shut, ready to be on your way.
You turn to Pudding but she’s nowhere in sight and you panic suddenly, turning to look around the deserted parking garage in fear as you call out for her. You hear a yip in response and follow the sound to a large dumpster in one corner of the garage. Pudding’s jumped on top, balancing on the one open lid, and she’s digging around inside, a distressed whine coming from her as you approach. You’re confused. While you and Pudding have become quite close, you haven’t quite managed to grasp the meaning of all her various noises.
“Pud, what’s wrong, honey?” You ask tentatively as he just whines louder and digs more. You approach the dumpster, trying to see what she’s so upset over. Those aren’t her hungry noises, you know that. When you get closer, she grabs your sleeve with her teeth, dragging you even closer and your brow furrows in concern. Something’s definitely wrong. When Pudding realizes you don’t understand, she huffs before jumping into the trash and you let out a yell of surprise. She digs around in the trash and before you can shout at her to get out her head disappears under the trash. You start calling for her frantically, considering whether you should climb in after her when she starts to resurface and that’s when you hear it. It’s weak and muffled but the whimpers are clear as day once you catch the sound. Pudding’s head comes back up and clutched gently in her teeth is the scruff of a puppy. You let out a cry of surprise as you reach out instantly and Pudding gives you a knowing look before passing you the puppy.
He’s skinny, too skinny and there are cuts and tiny sores on his grayish blue body but you recognize him to be a pitbull puppy and his distressed whimpers and whines tell you he’s terrified. You pull him close, curling around him protectively as Pudding pulls herself out of the dumpster and jumps down next to you. You give him a basic once-over before calling to Pudding and heading to the car. He needs to go to the vet for a proper checkup but from what you can tell, he’s okay.
***
You’re pacing around the exam room. The vet’s cleared the little puppy and prescribed him some medicine to help with the sores. Pudding has climbed up on the exam table and is licking at the tiny puppy lovingly, and he seems to be comfortable with her if not still very anxious. You don’t blame him, it’s a new place with new people and he was abandoned in a dumpster before this. He lets out a little whine and you stop your pacing, making your way over to the two dogs, squatting so you’re eye-level with them before smiling at the little guy. You reach out a hand to stroke his tiny head and he licks your fingers as you giggle. Your heart clenches as you spot the dark patch on his chest that looks a little like a heart.
You’re enjoying the moment when Jake bursts through the door to the room, worry on his face. He turns to you instantly.
“Is she okay, what happened?” You’d texted him letting him know you’d be late or possibly miss dinner due to an emergency trip to the vet. You stand up, giving him a shy smile as you gesture to the little pup curled under Pudding’s chin.
“Meet Taz,” you whisper and he whips his head around in confusion until his eyes find the little gray bundle, widening in surprise. He squats down then, reaching a tentative finger out to stroke Taz’s tiny head.
“Hey there little buddy,” he whispers softly and Taz rubs up against his hand. Jake’s face breaks into a grin and scratches behind his ears gently. “Where’d you find this little angel?” Jake asks, turning to look up at you. You shake your head.
“I didn’t, Pudding did. He was buried in a dumpster in the Ducks’ parking garage. Pain passes across Jake’s face as he turns back to the dogs, reaching his other hand to scratch Pudding’s head.
“Good girl, you did so good,” he praises and you can’t help the smile that creeps up your cheeks. “You’re ready to be big sister, huh?” He asks, turning back to you. “So, Taz?” There’s more than one question in his eye and you nod.
“Like the Tasmanian Devil, since we’re already Bugs and Lola.” You shrug as he grins. “I know we talked about waiting, but I feel like we found him for a reason,” you give him a nervous look, “if you’re ready that is?” Jake’s eyes soften, leaning down to kiss Taz’s little head before standing to wrap you in his arms, kissing your head next.
“I’m ready if you are, Bunny.” You nod against his chest.
“I think I am,” you smile and pull back to see Jake smiling too.
“Then I guess our family’s growing by one,” he says, reaching down to scoop up Taz as he ruffles Pudding’s fur with his other hand, his arm looped around you, and you curl against his side, smiling contentedly.
The door to the exam room opens and the doctor walks in, smiling. “You must be Dad, what’s the verdict?” She looks excitedly between the two of you and you smile, leaning back against Jake as he presses another kiss to your head shamelessly.
“We’re keeping him,” Jake confirms and she grins at him, clapping her hands excitedly.
“Congratulations! I’m having my nurses draw up some paperwork and then we can talk about whether you want to get his preliminary vaccinations taken care of today or if you want to wait to take him to your family vet.”
***
That night you’re exhausted by the time you get home. Jake stopped by the pet store to grab some necessities for Taz while you took the puppies home. You left Taz in Pudding’s care while you hopped in the shower. When you pad back into the living room, Jake’s sitting on the floor next to a smaller dog bed he’s placed right by Pudding’s that Taz is currently exploring while Jake watches. You walk up behind him, pressing your legs to his back.
“Hey, did you get everything?” Jake nods, tilting his head back to look up at you. You return his fond smile as you sit down next to him and Taz nervously trots over to you and you scoop him up, nuzzling him against your cheek.
“Hi, sweet boy, are you getting all settled in?” You coo softly and you can feel Jake watching. He places a kiss to the part of your shoulder that’s bared by his shirt being too big on you.
“See Bunny? You’re not a bad mom.” He whispers against your skin and you feel your heart squeeze. “Thank you,” he says then you turn to look at him, pulling Taz against your chest where he snuggles in.
“For what?” You ask as Jake lays his forehead against yours.
“For growing this family of ours, and for bringing us something that’s truly ours equally.”
“Well it didn’t seem fair that you’re outnumbered by the girls in your own home,” you tease and he bumps his nose against yours playfully.
“Something tells me he’s going to be a momma’s boy and then you’ll all still outnumber me anyway,” you giggle at that.
“Well if it makes you feel better, I think Pudding has the two of us beat for favorite,” you point out as Taz wiggles out of your grip as Pudding comes over to lie on her bed and then he’s attempting to climb onto it beside her. She watches for a few moments before giving in and reaching over to grip the scruff of his neck between her teeth gently and lifting him up onto the bed. He immediately snuggles up against her and she nuzzles his tiny head with her nose.
You see Jake watching them with a fond look in his eye and lean over to kiss his cheek. “You’re my favorite, though. Always will be.” He smiles at that.
“You’re my favorite too, Bunny.” The two of you watch as the puppies snuggle up next to each other and you swear you feel your heart grow a size bigger as your family does too.
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A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed seeing Jake and Bugs again and welcoming baby Taz to the Seresin family 🥹💚 (I’m still on vacation at this point, it’s a scheduled post, hope y’all are doing well!)
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starryeyedstories · 1 year
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I have a few ideas for the roomies. How about the roommates having a game night. Idk why but I can see Bradley cheating at monopoly or at least trying to cheat. Or them having a really intense Mario cart session. OR them playing the game of life and as they add people to their cars they can’t help but imagine a future with the other in it. I’m gonna stop before this gets out of control.
True story, I’ve never played monopoly in my life! I am so in love with your Mario Kart idea, I just had to write it.
Also, you’re always welcome to send any ideas or requests you have for the AU!!
And They Were Roommates
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Your neighbours across the hall were probably cursing your name as you let out a triumphant laugh, almost flinging your controller in the air in celebration. Beside you, Bradley groaned in defeat, his head dropping back onto the sofa. Neither of you could remember exactly when during your Mario Kart tournament you had both moved from sitting on the sofa to sitting against it on the floor.
“How are you so good at this?” he demanded.
You grinned.
“I’m a woman of many talents, Bradshaw. Pay up.”
He glared at you.
“I’m not paying you anymore. I was lured into this challenge under the false understanding that you weren’t a Mario Kart assassin,” he grumbled, “I’ve been conned.”
You snorted.
“Boo-fucking-hoo. What you’ve been is defeated, flyboy. Easily defeated, I might add. I can’t believe they let you fly multimillion dollar planes when you can’t even stay on the road in Mario Kart.”
“There aren’t any banana skins in a dogfight,” he said loftily, “I want a rematch.”
“Do you really?” you asked, popping a piece of popcorn from the bowl that sat between you in your mouth, “You gonna be able to afford your rent this month if I beat you again?”
“You’re not gonna beat me again,” he said confidently, tossing a piece of popcorn up in the air and catching it in his mouth. He grinned at you, the kernel held between his teeth, and you rolled your eyes at him.
“You’re gross. And you’re full of shit. I hope you’re ready to get your ass handed to you again.”
“You’re really mean when we play games,” he commented as he set up another game on the TV screen, “What happened to my sweet, kind roommate?”
You bit your lip to stop yourself smiling at the knowledge that he thought of you as sweet and kind. You were not about to let your stupid crush lose you the game.
“I beat her too,” you quipped, and he let out an amused snort as the countdown to the race appeared on the screen, “Better get your wallet open now, Bradshaw.”
“In your dreams, sweetheart.”
Almost immediately, your character sped ahead of Bradley’s on the screen, and you let out the most unattractive cackle of laughter you had ever heard. Bradley watched you out of the corner of his eye, unable to stop the soft smile on his face at the way the light from the TV made your profile glow, and the way your tongue poked out from between your lips in concentration. Even the way you leaned from side to side as if you were actually driving a car at high speed was ridiculously adorable.
“Dude, you’re not even moving now!” you pointed out, giggling, “At least make an effort!”
His eyes snapped to the screen and saw that his character’s car was stuck against the edge of the track, going nowhere fast.
“Shit,” he cursed, hoping against hope that you hadn’t realised he’d been too busy staring at you to play.
Perhaps it was time to resort to cheating.
“I think I’ll use my winnings to- hey!”
Your world went black as Bradley’s hand covered your eyes, his laughter echoing from beside you as you tried blindly to keep steering whilst struggling to get away from him. Kicking out blindly, it was your turn to laugh as you heard the clatter of plastic on wood that meant you had successfully knocked his controller from his hands. His hand left your eyes and, before you could adjust to the sudden return of the light, he had grabbed your controller from you and sent it across the floor to land beside his.
A glance at the screen showed that the race was far from over, both of your characters stuck against the side of the track…right beside each other. You looked at each other in surprise, and then at your controllers a few metres away on the floor, and you both dived for them at the same time.
Bradley had the advantage of being both closer to the controllers and having longer arms than you; he managed to grab them both before you got the chance. Still, you weren’t giving up.
Grabbing his wrist, you tried to prise your controller from his grasp, but his grip was strong. He rolled onto his back to try and sit up, inadvertently dragging you on top of him with the motion, your thigh sliding between his and your face inches from his own. Above his head, you had his wrists pinned to the floor.
You both seemed to realise the compromising position you had gotten yourselves into at the same time, freezing in your battle for the controllers and staring at each other in surprise. Your lips parted with the intention of saying something to break the tension that suddenly existed between you, but the way that Bradley’s eyes flitted to your mouth had any words dying on your tongue.
“Truce?” he whispered hoarsely.
Clearing your throat, you nodded and scrambled back so that you were no longer on top of him. He sat up slowly, as if he was slightly dazed, and you found that you couldn’t meet his eyes. You hated how much your heart was racing from the moment- had it been a moment?- that had just occurred.
There weren’t many platonic explanations for your roommate staring at your lips…were there?
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aviatrix-ash · 2 years
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Transformers Animated: The ATC who loved Powerglide? 😆
Since learning Sky Garry's basically Cybertron ATC (or STC? Space traffic control?) I've been wanting to draw a little comic thing with him and some other Autobot aviators.
It's not uncommon for pilots to accidentally broadcast casual conversations over radio and doing so at an airport usually gets that careless pilot roasted. So I wanted to play with that in this. 😆
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astralalmighty · 8 months
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I’ve seen plenty of modern aus where Nimona is Ballister’s ward/kid/adopted child. But I raise you: Nimona is the 20-something-year-old runaway who has definitely been on a few missing posters the last few years (and several blotters) but is also the only one who was interested in the roommate ad Ballister put in the newspaper and continuously comes home looking like she was in a dogfight but she always pays her rent on time and is always repairing the pipes and heating systems when their landlord ignores them and well Ballister has no idea what she does for a living and he’s not sure he wants to know but they’re on their fifth rewatch of that 80s zombie movie they’re both obsessed with eating pizza that’s half sardines half whatever Nimona likes and life is just a little too good to bother changing
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hamsterclaw · 1 year
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Afterburner
All Jungkook's ever wanted to do is fly, and he's damned good at it. Then you turn up, and get under his skin.
Genre: Fighter pilot! JK AU, smut
Word count: 8k
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Sex, swearing, fighter pilots, plane crashes
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Wing Commander Jeon Jungkook has done all the calculations he needs to land safely, even on a moving target. He casts a glance at his controls, but he’s not looking at individual displays, just making sure nothing’s red or alarming. His arm is stretched, instinctively locked, and he allows it to relax, allows the throttle to move forward.
Jungkook’s clocked in close to a thousand flight hours in the F-35, more than any other pilot in his squadron, but he’s never taken any of it for granted. He takes his hand off the throttle just long enough to lower the landing gear and flaps. 
Now or never.
Jungkook executes an almost perfect vertical landing on the tarmac of the Destroyer with his eyes closed because frankly if anything went wrong right now it would be beyond his control. 
He opens his eyes, thanks whoever’s looking out for him and climbs out of the cockpit. There’s no time for the adrenaline to ebb, because as soon as his feet touch solid ground on water, he sees a familiar blond head.
He’s too far away to make out his expression, but there’s only one man on this ship with blond hair, and Jungkook’s known Jimin long enough to tell by the way his shoulders are squared that he’s tense, angry.
Jimin’s level-headed normally, he didn’t come by his callsign Durumi by chance. He’s always been slow to anger, able to maintain his perspective, capable of finding a peaceful way forward in almost any conflict. His cool head under pressure makes him valuable in battle, not that they ever engage in dogfights these days.
After knowing him for over a decade, Jungkook can count the number of times he’s seen Jimin angry on one hand. He’s started forward, recognising a bad situation when he sees it, when the fight starts.
It’s quick, merciless and brutal in its efficiency. Jimin darts away, ducks the first blow from the taller man he’s been facing off with, and lands a beautifully timed swing to the other man’s jaw, knocking him out cold.
The man, who Jungkook now recognises as Lee Hyeok, a new transplant from the now defunct 492nd squadron, crumples to the floor, and for the first time, Jungkook sees you.
He knows of you, even if he’s never officially met you. There aren’t that many women around, not in this job, and there hadn’t been any women in his squadron before the merger with 492.
His first impression of you is of blankness. If watching the two men fight had any impact on you whatsoever, it doesn’t show in your smooth expression. 
Jungkook doesn’t trust what he can’t see. And he sure as fuck doesn’t trust you, given what’s just happened.
‘What the hell, Jimin?’ he asks, voice tense, one eye on the fallen pilot sprawled on the deck.
Jimin’s gaze flicks to yours, and you both start speaking at the same time.
Jungkook holds up a hand. ‘This is going to be an investigation, you know that,’ he says, to Jimin more than you.
‘There’s nothing to investigate,’ says Lee Hyeok. He gets up, unsteady but recovering rapidly. He fixes Jungkook with a steady gaze. ‘I fell.’
Jungkook hardens his stare. ‘I saw him —‘
Unexpectedly, you step forward. ‘It was my fault,’ you say, quietly, convincingly.
Jimin’s trying to step in front of you. 
Jungkook throws his hands up, exasperated. 
‘If this happens again I’m reporting all three of you,’ Jungkook says. 
Wisely, all three of you fall silent. 
‘Go and get checked out in the infirmary,’ Jungkook orders.
Jimin grabs your arm as you try to move away. ‘You need to get checked out too,’ he says, firmly.
Jungkook can’t see any visible injuries on you, unlike Jimin’s swollen hand and Hyeok’s bruised jaw. 
‘I’m fine,’ you say, but you go along with them anyway.
Jungkook watches you walk away, with a sense of foreboding. He’d known the merger of 492nd and his own wouldn’t be smooth, but he wonders what the hell that had been about.
***
The next morning, Jungkook wakes to an ache in his neck from years of straining against g-forces and an erection that he takes care of in the shower. It’s been a while since he last got laid, he’s just come off a mission in the South.
He casts a cursory glance in the mirror as he gets dressed in his regs. His hair’s getting longer, starting to wave in a way it doesn’t when he’s on top of getting it cut regularly. 
He’s going to need to stop by the barber later this morning.
The truth is, though, that Jungkook doesn’t think about the way he looks much. At least not in the way women seem to view him. He’d never thought twice about his eyes until an ex had snapped at him to ‘stop making those goddamn doe eyes’ at her. He’s always been athletic, the defined abs and shoulders he’s had since high school have only got more prominent since he started training more, eating well. He’d never really thought about his thighs until another ex had seemed to get off on how they felt under her. 
So although he’s never had to make an effort to find a woman willing to sleep with him, Jungkook’s never been the type of guy to take advantage. 
Jungkook’s always wanted to fly, and everything else has always, always, only ever been a means to that. 
He laces his boots, right before left, and heads for the canteen. He picks up a tray, looks for somewhere to sit, really scanning for Jimin or Namjoon or Yoongi. He doesn’t see any of his friends, but he does see you.
You’re sitting alone by the window, conspicuous in your solitariness. Jungkook finds his feet taking him over to you, an instinct he doesn’t understand but he learned long ago to trust his gut.
You look up as he puts his tray down and takes the seat opposite you. You nod a greeting and carry on eating like you don’t intend to say anything to him.
Jungkook watches as you gulp your coffee.
‘You know, if you’re eating quicker to finish your meal and get away from me, you don’t have to,’ he tells you.
You put your empty cup down.
‘I can move,’ he offers.
‘It’s nothing like that, Commander Jeon,’ you say. Your face is expressionless, blank as usual. ‘I’m thinking about the day ahead.’
Jungkook spoons his porridge. ‘I didn’t mean to presume,’ he says. ‘Did the docs clear you for duty?’
There’s the barest flicker across your face as you reply. ‘I’ve been cleared. Jimin and Hyeok are off for a week.’ 
‘Want to tell me what happened?’ he asks.
Your eyes study his face, and if Jungkook didn’t already know you were holding back he’d have worked it out by the emotions he can see in your eyes.
Then you blink, and sit back. 
‘I have nothing to say, Commander,’ you say. 
You’ve decided not to trust him, and Jungkook’s irritated about it, enough that there’s an edge to his voice as he says, ‘there’s a flight exercise at 1200 hours. We’re going up in the F-15.’
You nod, and pick up your tray. ‘I’ll be there, Commander.’
Jungkook looks down at his now lukewarm porridge after you walk away. Somehow he’s lost his appetite.
***
It’s a beautiful day for flying. Jungkook’s cued up first, waiting for the go ahead from the control tower, that familiar electricity coursing through his veins. No matter how many times he suits up, it never gets old.
He flicks the engine switch, hand on the throttle, feet braced on the rudder pedals. He goes through the steps, 0 to 175 in under two minutes and then he’s off, positive rate of climb. 
He can see in his helmet-mounted cueing system that everything’s as it should be. He evens out at fifty thousand feet, and checks his colour display to see you taking up wingman alongside him.
Your cool voice sounds in his in-ears, sounding like you’re in his head.
‘All good, Hawk?’
Jungkook knows that, as far as callsigns go, he’s fortunate to have been named ‘Hawk’, unlike Namjoon’s ‘Snoopy’ or Taehyung’s ‘Baby G’, but he’s never seen himself as a ‘hawk’. He much prefers Jimin’s ‘Durumi’. 
He realises he doesn’t know your callsign. 
‘It’s ‘Kokinchan’,’ you say, like you can hear the question he hasn’t voiced. ‘Like in Anpanman.’
The disgruntlement in your voice doesn’t stop the smile across Jungkook’s face, and he’s grateful you can’t see it. 
‘Ok, Kokinchan. Ready to fly?’
By the time Jungkook lands on the tarmac, he’s learned two things about you. One, you’re a pretty steady, reliable wingman and two — totally unrelated to flying….
Your voice sounds incredible in his ear. 
Initially, he’d thought you were a blank, difficult to read. Listening to you during the flight, he’d been able to pick up all your emotions in your voice. The lilt in your words as you’d executed a manoeuvre perfectly in sync with him, the hitch in your breathing as you’d taken in the glorious terrain. The last breathy gasp you’d let out before you’d landed, a release after the silent concentration that had preceeded it, had sent blood shooting to his cock. 
Jungkook’s glad he’s still got his g-suit on to keep blood streaming to appropriate places in his body.
You clamber out of the cockpit, all legs, fizzing over with excitement, and catch up to him by the locker rooms.
Because he’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, he sees the moment your dizzy expression smooths over into your usual deadpan face. 
You haven’t quite managed to curb the emotion in your voice, though, and Jungkook has the uncharacteristic urge to pull you under his arm and squeeze you when you say, ‘incredible,’ voice vibrating.
Jungkook starts unzipping his g-suit to give himself something to do. Behind him, he can hear you rustling, getting changed yourself. 
You spend time unlacing your boots, placing them carefully in your locker.
Jungkook’s amused by your persnicketiness, a stark contrast to the piles of boots scattered throughout the locker room.
He says, meaning it as a joke, ‘I don’t think anyone else wears your size.’
In his squadron, Jimin’s not a lot taller than you but his feet are definitely bigger than yours. 
You don’t look his way. ‘I don’t want to share with a bunch of stinky male feet,’ you reply. 
Jungkook’s so attuned to your voice by now he picks up a guardedness that he hasn’t heard since he met you that first time.
You don’t give him time to think about it.
When you turn to him, your expression is fractionally warmer than your customary blankness. ‘See you at lunch, Commander.’
***
He doesn’t see you at lunch. In fact, the next time Jungkook sees you, you’re wearing a short dress and leaning back against the bar in the nice restaurant in town.
He says your real name, and you give him a smile so pained he thinks for a second it isn’t you.
Then you say his name back. 
‘I’m hiding,’ you say by way of explanation, manoeuvring yourself so that he’s between you and the rest of the room.
‘Need a wingman?’ Jungkook offers, for lack of anything better to say. You’re leaning forward, head close to his, and from this vantage point he can see down the low neck of your dress. 
He forces his eyes back to your face. Thankfully you haven’t noticed his lapse.
You look morose. ‘I wish I had Snoopy to aim a laser at him,’ you reply. You brighten. ‘Maybe you could shoot him down.’
Jungkook’s only mildly concerned, he’s seen you being merciless in training exercises and he’s pretty sure you can look after yourself.
‘I don’t know why I bother to date,’ you sigh.
Then you seem to notice how smartly dressed he is. ‘Shit, sorry, are you meeting someone?’
‘She cancelled,’ Jungkook explains. ‘I have a table. I was looking forward to the wagyu.’
‘She’s a fool to cancel on you, look at you,’ you say, loyally. 
‘Where’s your date?’ Jungkook asks.
‘I excused myself to use the ladies,’ you say, face falling as you remember your predicament. ‘He was explaining how the F-18 weapons systems work.’
‘He knows you fly them, doesn’t he?’ Jungkook asks, incredulous.
You roll your eyes. ‘Some men.’ 
You shrug. ‘I should fly one over his house,’ you say, despondent. ‘We haven’t even ordered and I’m looking forward to leaving.’
There’s an unfamiliar male voice over Jungkook’s shoulder. 
‘There you are,’ says a good-looking, tall guy, smiling at you.
Jungkook’s always been quick on his feet. 
He turns to face the guy. ‘Honey,’ he says, voice exasperated. ‘I thought we weren’t doing this anymore.’
You blink up at him, so quick he has whiplash. ‘Baby, he’s cute, you said —-‘
‘I’m sorry,’ Jungkook says to the guy, acting embarrassed. ‘We’re in an open marriage but well, we agreed to —-‘
You slide smoothly up to him, hand hooking into the crook of his arm like you’ve done it a million times before. ‘But daddy —-‘
Jungkook stares you down sternly. ‘We said no more pickups unless we talk about it beforehand. And where’s your wedding ring?’
You pout up at him. ‘Daddy I can’t pick up guys with a wedding ring on.’ 
Jungkook sighs, turning back to your unfortunate date. ‘Sorry, man. We need to talk —-‘
The guy’s already backing away, hands up. ‘I had no idea,’ he says to Jungkook. ‘That she was married.’
Jungkook waves him away and turns back to you.
‘Daddy?’ he asks, under his breath. ‘Do I seem like a daddy to you?’
‘He’s out the door,’ you report, gracing him with a smile so bright he can’t help but smile back. ‘Do you still have your table? I like wagyu too.’
‘You’re buying, Kokinchan,’ Jungkook grumbles.
‘I’ll even spring for dessert,’ you promise. 
***
The steak’s as buttery and delicious as Jungkook had expected, going down easy with the wine you’d ordered with a careless gesture at the wine list.
You’re concentrating on your steak, humming as you enjoy it, and Jungkook likes watching you.
‘Why Kokinchan?’ he asks.
You narrow your eyes at him, skin gleaming in the candlelight. ‘I made Minseok cry once. And I cried too.’
‘What happened?’ 
‘Dropped the weight I was holding on his balls.’ You grimace. ‘He cried and I felt so bad I cried too, running him to the infirmary.’
‘On purpose?’
There’s a shadow across your expression. ‘Hyeok thought it’d be funny to sneak up on me and grab my ass. Minseok was a bystander.’
Jungkook’s got the sense there’s more to the story you’re not telling him. 
You shrug and change the subject. 
‘So how come your date ditched you?’ you ask. ‘Apart from that she’s an idiot, of course.’
‘Of course,’ agrees Jungkook, smiling crookedly at you.
It’s his turn to shrug. ‘Maybe she turned up and didn’t like the look of me.’
You scoff. ‘Please, you look great. That shade of blue suits you. Better than khaki and black, anyway. I didn’t know you had a lip ring.’
Jungkook’s trying to keep up. ‘I like wearing black.’
‘We wear black all the time,’ you reply. You gesture to the silvery dress you have on. ‘It’s nice to wear something else.’
Jungkook’s trying to think of something to say when you say, quickly. ‘I’m not fishing for a compliment. Just to clarify.’
‘I wasn’t going to give you one,’ he says, honestly. 
You laugh. ‘Shit. Thanks, I guess.’
You lift your wine and clink glasses with him. 
‘Cheers, Hawk. What do you want for dessert?’
***
Jungkook pays the taxi driver and is wondering if he should offer you his jacket when he realises you’re already halfway to the block of living quarters.
‘Wait up,’ he calls.
You wave a graceful arm at him without turning around. ‘I don’t put out on a first date, not even for a man who can fire a cannon.’
Jungkook stops, torn between amusement and exasperation.
‘I just wanted to say thanks for dinner,’ he says.
You turn, and he realises you’re more off-balance than he originally thought.
‘How drunk are you?’ he wonders out loud.
You tip your head to one side, counting.
Jungkook stares at you, brow furrowed.
‘Three,’ you say, decisive. ‘There are three of you.’
You shake your head. ‘No, four.’
‘Need help getting into your flat?’ Jungkook asks, rolling his eyes.
You frown at him, offended. ‘Of course not. See you at training tomorrow, Commander.’
You give him a tipsy salute and turn away.
Jungkook waits until you’re safely inside the building anyway.
***
Jungkook looks up as you slide into your seat in the briefing room. You’re technically right on time, but everyone else arrived ten minutes early.
You give him a tentative smile that he doesn’t have time to return. 
Colonel Park, a decorated veteran and director of the fighter pilot programme, clears his throat and begins.
Jungkook already knows about this upcoming mission, as leader of the 490th squadron, he’s been pre-briefed.
On the surface, it’s simple enough. The mission only needs four pilots, two to make a drop and two to create a diversion and cover the drop.
Jimin, back from medical leave and none the worse for wear, nods his way.
After the brief he comes up to Jungkook. 
‘Flip for it?’ he says, that familiar shit-eating grin on his face as Jungkook rolls his eyes.
Jungkook’s the most decorated pilot in the squadron but Jimin’s a close second. 
Jungkook shrugs.
Jimin produces a coin and flips it onto his palm. 
‘Heads,’ Jungkook calls.
It’s tails.
‘Great. I’ll make the drop, you provide the distraction. Also, you get Kokinchan,’ Jimin says.
‘Shit, did they just flip for us?’ Taehyung asks, nudging you, pretending to be offended.
You shrug. ‘All you boys look the same in my afterburner,’ you say, to a chorus of whoops from Jimin and Taehyung.
Jungkook catches your gaze. ‘If your trash talk’s as good as your flying, Kokinchan, we’ve got this,’ he says, easy.
‘My flying’s even better, Hawk, it’s your lucky day.’
Jungkook laughs and follows you to the locker rooms to suit up.
***
You’re tight on Jungkook’s tail, keeping up with him even though the terrain’s unfamiliar to you both.
He pulls his nose up. There’s a SMARD missile a few hundred meters away that he’s intentionally going to fly within radar detection range of, and then he’s relying on his own flying and your flares to evade.
He’s activating his mic to speak when your voice sounds in his in-ears.
‘Flares are ready when you are, Hawk.’
‘Glad you’re paying attention, baby.’
‘Maybe I’ll let them burn your ass for that.’
‘Sorry, Kokinchan. If it helps, I once called Durumi, baby. He’s never let me live it down.’
‘Durumi’s kind of a baby though, I see it.’
Jungkook laughs. 
‘Let’s go, Kokinchan.’
He adjusts his position, heading straight for the target.
He’s just entered the detection zone when his in-ears crackle with the voice of Hyemi from control. 
Jungkook has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 
‘Hawk, there’s a bandit, due North.’
It’s one thing to evade a SMARD, it’s another to evade a SMARD with a bandit, a hostile plane on you.
You’re already descending, trying to get out of range on the off-chance that Jungkook hasn’t triggered the SMARD.
He admires your optimism but he’s a realist.
Your voice is steady in his in-ears. ‘Ready to drop, Hawk.’
Jungkook says, terse, ‘Stay on me.’
He sees smoke, pulls back on the throttle, hard, to ascend, and you drop your flares like you’ve rehearsed it.
Your timing’s impeccable.
The SMARD zips past Jungkook just as you say, ‘don’t think he just wants to say ‘hi’’.
The bandit’s approaching too fast, right in your flight path.
He can hear you shouting, but he can’t make out any actual words apart from ‘motherfucker’, clear as day, as you fire your cannon.
The bandit implodes in front of them, a ball of burning shrapnel.
Then ‘ah shit, Hawk, I’m an engine down.’
Jungkook’s reassured by the tone of your voice, calm despite the fact you’re two octaves higher in pitch than you normally are.
‘Hey,’ he says, going for levity because you need to detach yourself from what’s just happened before the adrenaline overwhelms you. ‘Is that why they call you Kokinchan?’
‘Why?’ you ask, playing along, grasping at the hope of a punchline that you can actually laugh at to release some of the tension.
‘Because of that squeaky voice,’ he says.
His stupid joke doesn’t warrant the full-bodied laugh you let out, but Jungkook likes hearing it all the same.
‘You know what they really call you, Hawk?’ 
‘What?’ Jungkook asks, watching you carefully as you head back to base.
‘The boba-eyed fuckboi.’
‘Shut up, no one calls me that.’
You both laugh. 
Then, soft in his in-ears. ‘I can make it back with one engine right?’
‘Yeah,’ he says immediately, wanting to reassure you. ‘Just don’t break the other one.’
‘Yeah. See you on the ground, Hawk.’
‘I’ll be in your afterburner, Kokinchan.’
The last thing he hears before you land is your soft laughter.
He’s reminded again of how much he likes the way you sound.
***
Jungkook climbs out of his cockpit, looking around for you.
He finds you hunched over a bin next to the hangar, eyes watering, hand on your stomach.
Wordlessly, he hands you his water.
You flick your eyes at him as you accept and take a big swig, wiping your mouth. 
Jungkook leans against the wall next to you, head back, not wanting you to feel like he’s intruding. The setting sun warms the skin on his face and neck.
When he opens his eyes, you’re looking at him.
The ends of your hair are on fire, backlit by the sunset. 
You’re beautiful.
‘I’ve —‘ you stop, swallow. ‘I’ve never killed someone before, Hawk.’ 
Jungkook knows what you’re really asking. He’s taken down two fighters in combat because he had to. It’d taken him a while to feel normal again. 
He’s not sure he even still knows what normal is. 
‘You think about it less over time,’ he says carefully, wanting to reassure you but not wanting to give you unrealistic expectations. 
You’re looking at him intently, searching his face. 
Jungkook lets you look, stays still, gazing back at you steadily, unflinching, until you find whatever it is you’re looking for. 
You both seem to realise how close you’re standing to each other at the same time. 
You take a step back because he can’t, pressed with his back against the wall. 
‘Hey, let’s get a beer,’ he says. 
‘You buying?’ you ask, reverting to your default spiky personality. 
Jungkook has the urge to hug you, to tell you that you don’t have to put up your spikes with him, that he’ll toe whatever boundaries you put in front of him. 
Instead he says, ‘yeah. I’ll even spring for dinner, Kokinchan.’ 
Back at the locker room you drop your boots next to his. ‘I think I dropped my locker keys,’ you say, frowning. 
Jungkook says, gently, ‘you don’t have to worry about me stealing your boots.’ 
Again, he gets the odd sense that he’s missing something when he sees your expression. 
All you say is, ‘I’d like Italian for dinner please, Hawk.’ 
Jungkook’s ready to buy you whatever you want to eat. 
***
The restaurant’s busy for a Thursday but Jungkook gets you in, no problem. He doesn’t even have to use his ‘boba eyes’ although he’s sure that’s not a thing.
You’re smiling at him, open and so pretty he’s wondering how inappropriate it would be to kiss you, when your eyes focus on something behind him.
The guarded, carefully blank expression that drops across your face reminds him of curtains being drawn, of shutters being snapped shut.
‘Hyeok,’ you say tightly, and Jungkook doesn’t have to know you well, at all, to hear the tension in your voice.
Your shoulders are around your ears.
Jungkook feels tense himself as Hyeok and Sungcheol, another pilot from 492nd, stop by the table.
‘Hey, Kokinchan,’ Hyeok says. 
The words are harmless enough, but Jungkook doesn’t like the way he sounds. He especially doesn’t like the way he looks at you. 
Hyeok nods to Jungkook. ‘Commander.’
‘Heard you took down an F-15 today,’ Hyeok says.
‘What’s your point?’ you ask, voice low, barely veiled hostility in your eyes.
Jungkook wants to tell you he’s got you but you’re not even looking at him.
‘Is that what it takes to get the Commander to buy you dinner?’ Hyeok asks.
The insinuation is clear.
‘Why don’t you try it and let me know?’ you ask.
There’s a taunting, defiant note in your voice that Jungkook can’t help but admire.
He stands. ‘If you’ll excuse us, I promised Kokinchan dinner for saving our asses earlier,’ he says firmly, indicating they should move on.
When he sits back down you’re quiet until he says, ‘hey.’
The look you give him is very different from how you’d been until now. He’s reminded of that first time he sat across from you at breakfast, how you’d finished your scalding hot coffee in record time in your haste to move.
‘Why are fighter pilots such assholes,’ you mutter.
‘I don’t know. A baseline disrespect for authority or anyone who tells us ‘no’? A deluded sense of god-like power from cheating death repeatedly?’
You’re looking at him again, and Jungkook’s not going to let you hide back in your shell.
‘You and I are still the same, Kokinchan, and today we’ve earned these carbs. Eat up.’
‘I didn’t know you’d ever met a carb,’ you say, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips now.
‘Thank you for noticing,’ Jungkook says, flexing.
The smile on your face is brief, only lasting the gap between bites, but it’s enough for Jungkook.
By the time dessert comes round Jungkook’s gently teasing you, revelling in your embarrassment as he reminds you about the choice swear words you shouted into his in-ears during the mission.
‘You’re one to talk,’ you say. ‘You sound really breathy when you’re gaining altitude.’
Jungkook raises a brow.
‘It’s practically pornographic,’ you continue.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. ‘Please, Durumi is more pornographic than me. You should hear him when he’s pushing g’s.’
‘Oh my god, Baby G’s the worst,’ you say, but there’s affection in your voice.
‘That’s because his voice is sexy as a baseline,’ Jungkook points out. 
‘Yeah, we used to share a flat before I got fed up with hearing all his sex talk,’ you say. 
‘He does seem like the kind of guy who’d talk a lot during sex,’ Jungkook agrees.
‘Just noises are fine for me thanks, throw in a couple of oh baby’s and I’m good,’ you say, lightly.
Jungkook realises you’ve made it all the way to your door. 
You say, ‘thanks for dinner, Hawk,’ but you don’t move, standing with your back pressed against the door.
Jungkook feels like he’s not ready to say goodbye, but he’s not going to push you into anything.
‘It does get better,’ he tells you. 
You smile. ‘The aftermath of taking down another pilot or Baby G’s sex talk? Because Taehyung only gets worse, I can tell you.’
You’re joking of course, deflecting again.
Jungkook can feel your eyes on his face.
He leans forward a little, putting his weight on the closed door, giving you time to move if you want to.
Instead you stay put, face tilted to his.
There’s no reason to be standing like this apart from that he very badly wants to kiss you.
‘Hawk,’ you breathe. You’re reaching up, pressing a chaste, sweet kiss to his cheek. 
‘Thanks for dinner.’
Jungkook smiles at you. ‘Anytime, Kokinchan.’
You smile at him again, then turn and let yourself into your apartment.
Jungkook’s left with a vague tightness in his pants and a sense that this thing with you could be something good if you let it.
***
Jungkook wakes the next morning thinking of you.
His hand brushes his erect cock, fingers tightening around himself.
He pumps his fist once, the memory of your pretty lips on his cheek making his dick harden even more.
He’s no virgin but the thought of getting to see you in the pale lace lingerie he’d glimpsed that night he’d run into you at that restaurant and accidentally looked down the low neck of your top makes him keep moving his fist.
Shit. Is he really doing this?
Even as he ponders the morality of it his hands are moving, uncapping the lube he keeps under his mattress like he’s some teenager and not a full grown adult who changes his own sheets.
Jungkook groans at the slide, dick hardening even more as he remembers how firm your breasts felt against his chest when you kissed him.
Fuck, you’d kissed him! With those lips he’s been a little too respectful to imagine around his cock. 
God, you’d smelled so good.
He’s gasping now, hand moving faster, other hand cupping his balls. 
He thinks of the breathy gasp you’d let out when you landed the F-15, the way your voice sounds when you say ‘fuck’ and he’s gone.
As he’s cleaning up he wonders, a little guiltily, whether he’ll be able to look you in the face at breakfast.
***
As it turns out, he doesn’t see you at breakfast.
He’s picking up his gear from the locker room, when he notices that your boots have moved from where they were next to his.
He frowns. It takes him a while to spot them, longer to realise why they look odd.
Your laces have been cut, all the way across the middle, laid open, useless.
He picks them up, heads for the mess lounge. 
Stops in front of the stupid bulletin board no one ever looks at, including him.
There’s a picture of you, but not as he’s ever seen you before.
It’s your face, certainly, pretty and smiling, stuck onto a printout of a naked female body. 
It’s glaring, crude, invasive. 
Jungkook stares at it incredulously, startles guiltily when he hears your voice.
You tear it off the bulletin board, crumpling it in your fist.
‘I’d chuck it in the trash but there’s no guarantee someone wouldn’t just lift it out and put it up again,’ you say, voice carefully, cautiously flat.
You nod to the boots in his hand. 
‘I have a new set of laces, I always have a spare pair with me,’ you say. 
Jungkook lets you take the boots from him.
He finds his voice.
‘Has this happened before, Y/N?’
You wince at the sound of your real name instead of your callsign.
You shrug. 
‘I don’t have anything to say about it, Commander.’
Like you, Jungkook blinks at the sting of his title instead of the more familiar ‘Hawk’ he’d got accustomed to you calling him. 
‘Kokinchan,’ he says, willing you to trust him.
You’re looking above his head, through him instead of at him.
‘I can help. If someone in the squadron is doing all this I can help make it stop,’ Jungkook says.
You’re looking at him now, eyes softening.
‘It’s a society that enables this kind of hateful misogyny that has to change, Hawk, not you.’
There’s a sadness to your smile that punches him in the chest.
You turn, back straight, and leave the room as he’s trying to think of something to say.
***
You’re sitting with Jimin at dinner when Jungkook turns up. 
‘You ok?’ Jungkook asks. He hasn’t seen you since the lounge, he’d had to go to another brief.
Your expression is difficult to read. 
‘I’m good, Hawk. Heard you got called in by Colonel Park.’
Jimin’s looking at him expectantly, so Jungkook allows the change of subject.
‘We’ve got another job to do,’ he says, reluctantly. ‘We’ll get a full brief tomorrow but it’s another drop.’
‘Who’s going?’ Jimin asks.
‘We need six,’ Jungkook says, ‘and two alternates.’
He looks at you. 
‘You’re flying with Skua.’
Skua is Hyeok’s callsign.
‘Fuck that. I’ll fly with Skua,’ Jimin says, instantly, vehement. ‘You can’t put Kokinchan in with that asshole.’
You’re looking at Jungkook, expression blank. It’s only the tenseness in your shoulders that gives any sign that any of this affects you.
‘I’m guessing you and Durumi are up front, and me and Skua and Baby G and Snoopy are wingmen?’
Jungkook says, ‘if you and Skua have a problem you need to let me know.’
He’s open to changing things around, hell, he’ll lie through his teeth if there’s any genuine risk from pairing you with Skua.
He’ll get you the hell out if you ask.
Instead you say, ‘there’s no problem, Hawk.’
‘That asshole —-‘ Jimin starts indignantly.
You put your hand on his arm. ‘Durumi, I can’t fly if I can’t work in a team with everyone,’ you say.
‘Swap me out with Baby G, he can fly lead and Snoopy and Skua can pair up. I’ll fly with Kokinchan,’ Jimin says to Jungkook.
You say, so lightly Jungkook’s almost fooled, ‘you’re too good to fly wing, Jimin. Also, come on, me and Skua have flown together before.’
Jimin argues, ‘before he tried to grab your ass? Before he tried to pull your top down? Before the hundredth time he cut your laces? Before he left that obscene picture of you on the billboard?’
Jungkook’s stunned. ‘It was Hyeok who did all that?’
You say, very firmly, ‘I can’t prove that he cut my laces or printed that picture.’
You put your hand on Jimin’s arm again. ‘Jimin, if I made a formal complaint, you know I’d be grounded whilst an investigation took place.’
Jungkook says, ‘you wouldn’t be grounded—‘
He breaks off at the look you give him. 
‘He’s never done anything whilst we’ve been flying,’ you point out. ‘He wants to fly just as much as I do, as we all do.’
You’re pushing away from the dinner table, lifting your tray. 
‘It’ll be fine, Hawk,’ you say. You put your hand on Jimin’s shoulder, and, reluctantly, he puts his hand over yours. 
‘I’m gonna get some downtime before tomorrow,’ you say. 
You’re walking away like there’s nothing left to say.
***
You’re almost late again, sliding in the seat next to Jungkook at the brief the next morning with barely thirty seconds to spare.
He glances at you. 
Your hair is pulled back, the collar of your jumpsuit folded neatly. 
You’re crisp, clean, and you give him a smile so detached he wants to shake you.
The brief is quick, it’s a route you’ve all flown before, and you’ve been training together for weeks now.
Jungkook’s getting changed into his g-suit when he realises you’re not in the locker room with the rest of the team.
He’s about to go looking for you, when you emerge from the single shower cubicle, fully suited up. 
‘Thanks, Durumi,’ you say quietly.
Jimin’s been getting changed himself outside the cubicle door whilst you got changed inside, blocking any access to you.
Jimin replies, ‘no problem, Kokinchan. Laces all good?’
Jungkook looks at your feet and realises you’ve swapped out your regulation black laces for bright orange. 
‘They’re great,’ you say, beaming at him. ‘Aren’t they, Hawk?’
‘You’ll be visible from space in those,’ teases Jungkook. 
You’re looking around as you reach the runway. 
Jungkook says, cautiously, ‘Skua got swapped out.’
You glance at him, surprised. ‘What happened?’
‘Baby G’s taking the lead on this one.’
You’re listening, waiting for him to continue.
‘I’m flying with you,’ Jungkook says.
You raise an eyebrow warily. ‘What’s behind this, Hawk?’
Jungkook says, ‘Colonel Park felt Baby G needed a push to step up.’
You’re not letting him off the hook that easily. ‘Did you suggest it to him?’
‘Yeah,’ Jungkook confesses. He says, carefully, ‘I spoke to Hyeok.’
You’re quiet, guarded. ‘What did he say?’
Jungkook’s got no desire to go over the comments Hyeok had made about you.
‘He didn’t help himself,’ Jungkook says, finally. 
You’ve reached the F-18. You climb into the front seat. 
From where he’s sat in the back Jungkook can’t see your face clearly.
You connect your helmet, turn on your mic.
‘I don’t know whether it’s worse to have someone be contemptuous of you or to feel sorry for you,’ you say. 
Jungkook’s scrambling for something to say, but you’re not waiting for him to speak anyway, nodding to your tech. 
You give the signal, the canopy comes down and then you’re going through your checks, flipping switches, checking your status with control.
Then you’re speeding down the runway, burning your way into the horizon.
***
Jungkook’s concentrating, focusing in on your target as you navigate the terrain. 
You’re fast, confident, and Jungkook likes your style. 
For making a drop though, your speed means his window for firing is limited if you’re to have any hope of hitting your target.
Neither of you can afford to mess up the timing.
Up ahead, Baby G and Durumi are blazing through, and Snoopy’s timed the first drop beautifully.
You descend smoothly, and Jungkook’s knows he’s timed it perfectly when the target implodes.
You’ve already got the throttle pulled back, hissing through your teeth at the g-forces holding you down, fighting through it.
Then you’re gliding, evening out.
You sigh shakily, and Jungkook, on autopilot, checks his peripherals.
There’s smoke. 
‘Shit.’
‘What is it Hawk?’ you ask, instantly on guard.
Jungkook knows you’re a good pilot, but in this moment he sure as hell wishes he was in the driving seat.
‘It’s an MD45,’ he says, clear, calm.
You’re quiet a moment.
An MD45 is tech beyond your own military capabilities, a missile that’s reportedly impossible to evade.
Two of your own were taken out by an MD45 last month.
You say, ‘well shit.’
Jungkook’s thinking of your squadron in front of you and the terrain up ahead. 
‘How do you feel about flying into the side of a mountain, Kokinchan?’ 
‘At this speed, our time to die is five seconds, if that, Commander,’ you say. To your credit, your voice is steady, neutral, as you process his words.
‘Have you ejected before?’ Jungkook asks. 
‘I usually wait for a third date before I let a guy eject on me,’ you say. 
Jungkook’s bark of laughter surprises you both. 
‘I guess we’re going to second base. Don’t worry baby, I’ll make it good for you.’
He can see the craggy rock of the side of the mountain coming up fast.
It takes four seconds from pulling the ejection handle to being ejected.
The speed you’re going, it’ll be ten seconds to impact.
A time to die of ten seconds. 
‘Canopy the fuck up, Hawk,’ you say, turning the plane. 
He can see you reaching down between your legs, pulling up the ejection handle. 
Four.
A beat of total stillness.
Three. 
The canopy slides back, bringing with it a rush of wind. 
Two. 
Jungkook can’t hear anything but the pounding of his heart, can’t see anything but the back of your helmet, the way your shoulders are squared. 
One. 
Jungkook closes his eyes as he’s shot into the sky. 
Below him, there’s the sense of tremendous impact as the F-15 flies straight into the mountain, followed by the MD45.
Jungkook’s chute unfolds, a ceiling of cream protecting him from the sky. 
He wonders where you are.
***
When he opens his eyes, there’s a swirling blue sky above him, clouds floating across his field of view.
He’s on his back. He can move all his limbs.
Jungkook unclips his harness and rolls out of his landing gear.
He sits up, slowly, taking stock of his injuries. Apart from an almighty crick in his neck and grazes on both his knees, he’s unharmed.
Now he’s looking for you, squinting against the sun.
There’s a spill of cream a hundred feet away, so much parachute he can’t even see you.
He approaches, lifting the parachute, looking for you amidst the folds of fabric.
There’s a flash of neon orange laces, a booted foot, and Jungkook drops to his knees as he tugs the material off you.
Your arms are strapped in, a safety mechanism in your flight jacket. It looks like you landed on your back. You’re still out cold.
He touches your face.
‘Kokinchan.’
He can hear the panic in his voice. He doesn’t sound like himself.
Fair enough. He doesn’t feel like himself.
He’s checking you over for injuries when he hears your voice.
‘Fuck,’ you say, peeking down at him. ‘Thank fuck you swapped out with Skua.’
Jungkook’s leaning over you, close to your face.
Your smile makes him feel like he can breathe again.
Apparently you feel the same. 
‘Hey, Hawk,’ you say, pulling him down to you. ‘Can we go to third base now?’
Jungkook’s lips are already pressed to your skin, next to your mouth. 
You turn your head the slightest fraction, and your lips meet.
The adrenaline washes out of his veins, replaced by a sweet, singing pleasure as he kisses you.
Your hands grab fistfuls of his g-suit, tight, as you part your lips and take him in.
‘Fuck, Hawk, fuck,’ you murmur, breathless, warm, gasping as he leaves your lips to kiss around to your ear, down your neck.
Jungkook reaches for the zipper down your front only to realise you’ve beaten him to it.
He tries for his own zipper, realises you’ve beaten him to that too.
‘Let me help, Kokinchan,’ he says. He means it to sound teasing but it comes out urgent, breathy.
‘Don’t make me wait, Hawk,’ you reply.
Jungkook’s tugging down your undersuit, revealing pink lace, so pretty he wonders if the fall affected his vision.
He splays his hand over your panties, dizzy, elated, verging on drunken wonder.
‘Are you always this pretty?’ he wonders. ‘All this under that stupid flight suit?’
He’s rubbing his thumb over your cunt, and the way you whimper and roll up into his hand makes him realise how hard he’s getting.
You cup his face. ‘I need you, Hawk,’ you plead.
‘I’m here,’ he says, pulling his own suit down, pushing his undersuit down just enough.
Then he’s on top of you, pushing into you, trying not to come as you take all of him inside you and wrap your arms around him like you’re afraid he’ll leave.
Jungkook can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be. 
He can’t think.
So he moves, because if nothing else he knows how to do this, even when you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere and you’ve just crashed a fucking plane into a fucking mountain and almost fucking died in the process.
He knows how to do this, knows how to please you. 
He moves, holds on long enough to hear you crying out his name as you come, holds on long enough to reach his own pleasure.
Then you’re sobbing, tears on his neck as he holds you, and then, fuck all this shit, Jungkook’s crying too.
***
Jungkook’s amused to know you tuck a credit card in one of your breast pockets whenever you fly, for the express purpose of if you ever got stranded anywhere. 
He’s grateful when your credit card gets you a hire car. 
He’s laughing when you discover he also carries his wallet and ID whenever he flies but didn’t bother to tell you, enjoying how goshdarned cute you were when you waved your credit card at him triumphantly. 
Jungkook volunteers to drive, and you badger him until he stops at a gas station for snacks. 
It’s not badgering, even though you seem to think it is. He likes it. 
Now you’re in the passenger seat, reclined all the way back, looking up through the sunroof, singing along to digital radio, getting all the words wrong. 
When he joins in you stop and stare at him. 
‘What?’ he asks, self-conscious. 
‘You have a pretty voice, Hawk,’ you tell him. 
It’s not the first time he’s heard it, but he likes hearing it from you. 
You put your hand on his arm, tracing along his skin. 
You’re both stripped down to your regs, plain t-shirts and pants, your helmets and g-suits, your survival kits in the backseat. 
You keep looking over at him, oohing and aahing over his tattoos. 
Jungkook holds out as long as he can, but when the sun starts to set and you’re still looking at him like you can’t stop he pulls the car over and makes love to you in the backseat. 
It’s all new still, a little awkward but Jungkook doesn’t care because he’s already decided he wants to learn all of you. 
He wants to know you, to treasure you. 
You’re sat up, holding on to his shoulders, bodies sated but still pressed against each other. 
‘Hawk,’ you say, nudging under his chin with your nose. 
Jungkook opens his eyes. ‘You’re insatiable, Kokinchan.’ 
‘It’s not that, you idiot,’ you say, although you’re giggling at him. ‘Can I drive?’ 
‘The last time you drove us, we flew into the side of a mountain and cost the government just over a mil,’ Jungkook points out.
‘You told me to!’ you say, indignant. 
Jungkook kisses your sweaty cheek, twice because he wanted more after the first one. 
You turn your head to kiss him full on the lips, slip him some tongue. 
Jungkook reaches up to pull you closer, but you’re already pulling away, pulling up those lacy panties, covering up your pretty ass that Jungkook would look at until he went blind if you let him. 
‘I want more,’ Jungkook tells you. 
You pause with your hands on your pants button. ‘Me too, Hawk.’ 
‘I’m not –’
He waits until you look at him again. 
‘I don’t just mean sex,’ Jungkook says.
You turn to face him. There’s a hesitant note in your voice. 
‘I put in a transfer request yesterday,’ you say. Your eyes search his face. ‘I’ve requested a move to 489th, under Min Yoongi.’ 
Jungkook’s surprised. ‘Were you going to tell me?’ 
‘Right after the mission,’ you say, instantly, so convincing he doesn’t doubt your honesty. 
‘It’s just easier,’ you continue. ‘I’ve worked with him before. There’s another woman in his squadron. There’s no Skua.’ 
Jungkook’s still looking at you. 
‘I don’t have to worry about the man I’m dating being put in a difficult position.’
Jungkook’s so busy thinking about your words it takes him a while to realise what you’ve said. 
‘I don’t just want to date you,’ he says, finally. 
Your smile is so bright he kisses you again. 
‘We should take it slow,’ you say, but there’s a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.
Jungkook asks, ‘When have you or I ever done that?’ 
‘There’s a first time for everything,’ you say. 
Jungkook reaches out and grabs your hand as you’re climbing out to get into the driver’s seat. 
‘We can go as slow as you want, Kokinchan.’ 
***
Jungkook hovers above the runway, having cut his speed to the point that he’s at a complete standstill in the air. 
Like this, he can barely tell he’s flying.
A flick of a button and he’s into another vertical descent. 
This time, it’s perfect. Even he can’t fault it. 
He climbs out of the cockpit and steps down onto the runway tarmac. 
He glances at his watch. He was meant to meet you for dinner tonight, he’s got enough time to pick you up some flowers before he meets you. 
At first he thinks it’s a trick of the light, but when you start walking towards him he realises it really is you. 
You’re so pretty in your dress, Jungkook stops in his tracks just to watch you. 
You stop just in front of him, shorter than usual without your boots. 
He has to lean down a little more to kiss you but he doesn’t mind. 
You roll your eyes as he takes the opportunity to squeeze your ass under the pretense of lifting you up more to reach him. 
‘Hawk,’ you chide.
‘Kokinchan,’ he teases, dragging out the syllables like you did with his callsign. 
He keeps his arm around you as you walk towards the locker rooms together. 
‘What do you want for dinner, Kokinchan?’ 
‘Can we have dessert first?’ you ask, feigning innocence, looking up at him through your lashes.
God, he loves the look of you. 
‘Yeah,’ Jungkook agrees, readily. He leans down to kiss you again. ‘Anything you want.’ 
©hamsterclaw 2023
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