#Fic: Afterburn

[thedonswife13]

Jake cares a whole lot, he just doesn’t always show it. Jake is head over heels for her and I love it

Afterburn – Crosswinds

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC/Reader

Masterlist

OC/Reader's name is Teddy/callsign 'Kodiak'

Summary: You liked him when he was like this. You liked him all the time, but especially when he gave up on trying to get the upper hand in the conversation, and just let things be. When he was a little less Hangman and a little more Jake.

Warnings: mentions of aviation crash, mostly just hangman being a simp. smoking?

Notes: Dagger Squad took one look at Teddy and Phoenix was already printing out the adoption papers lmao. this is set post TGM, and Mav has taken up an instructing position.

Masterlist

A loud burst of buoyant laughter greets your ears, the noise out of place in the otherwise quiet administrative corridor, but not totally unwelcome. You have to suppress a smile and a roll of your eyes as you tuck a stack of papers under your arm and push open the door to what you imagine is the only currently occupied room in this part of campus.

Your arrival into your own office barely grants a pause in the ongoing conversations, though several out of the seven aviators lounging about throw you a wave or a quick greeting.

Hangman, who doesn’t appear to acknowledge your presence at all, sits in the visitor chair directly opposite your workstation, with his feet nonchalantly kicked up on your desk, one of your little model jets turning in his hands. You shove his feet off as you pass and pointedly ignore the tiny twitch of his lips that threatens to break into a full-on smirk any moment. Instead, you lean in and snatch back your model F-22 Raptor, before rounding the side of the tabletop, and falling into your chair.

Hangman’s hands stay suspended in place for a few moments, but he drops them a beat later, his eyes fixated on you in taunting amusement as you return your prized desk bauble to its proper position.

This time, you ignore him, tapping your login credentials into your computer, and shuffling the papers from under your arm to the surface in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Hangman’s fingers reaching out for something else, a pen or another of your model jets most likely, and the flash of surprise that flickers across his face when you sharply slap his knuckles away is almost enough for you to mirror the self-satisfied smirk he’d been wearing only moments prior.

“I know you’re capable of looking with your eyes, Hangman, considering you like to stare so much,” you tease, using the same voice that you might with a naughty child. The man across from you relents with suspiciously little bitching, and leans back in his seat, fingers laced together.

“You know Teddy Bear, I’ve been told that women like eye contact,” Hangman’s smile only grows when you fix him with an unamused look.

“And just like everything else, Hangman, you take that too far,” Phoenix scoffs from the scant seating area right behind him, where she sits facing you with Rooster and Bob.

The green eyes still boring into yours suddenly gain a challenging glint, and he opens his mouth, turning in his seat to respond, but you cut him off.

“Now, now, children…” you say scoldingly, earning an annoyed frown from Hangman, and a shrug from Phoenix.

You go back to updating your records, and for a while the tapping of your keyboard undercuts the soft conversation that fills your office, and you happily listen to the aviators discussing today’s training. It was pleasant to have the company, as much as you pretended to be exasperated with certain people, not-so-deep down you were more than alright with the Civilian Instructors’ Staff Room becoming the new hangout for the group.

It had started several weeks back now, with Phoenix and Bob visiting you on your lunch hour. The next day they brought Fanboy and Payback, who the day after that, had convinced Rooster to come along, and naturally there was no way that Rooster would be invited to any social gathering that Hangman was excluded from, so he and Coyote had tagged along too.

Now it wasn’t just your lunch breaks that had your office full of pilots, since it was plainly obvious that you were the only current civilian instructor on base, they had started using the office as their own lay-room in place of the one used by the rest of the pilots. Coyote had made up the excuse last week that the usual rec room had too many younger aviators in it, and this week it was because you were apparently closer to the hangar. With every new excuse, you’d simply let out a huff and roll your eyes with a knowing smile.

The first time you’d actually been forced to interrogate the how’s or whys had been a week ago, after Maverick had spent the best part of an hour searching for his group and had eventually come looking for you to ask if you’d seen them. He’d found your office filled with his rowdy squad of aviators having an intense argument, split down the middle over Kong vs Godzilla. After declaring Godzilla would be the winner hands down, Mav had ordered them all out.

A bemused smile plays on Maverick’s lips, and he shakes his head. One of his hands holds open your office door, and the other ushers out his squad of aviators, all wearing matching looks of sheepishness at having been discovered.

Once the last pilot has filtered out, the older man turns to look back at you, his handsome features pulled into a concerned, almost fatherly grimace. It was an expression that you’d become rather used to since you’d begun working together.

“Teddy…” Mav begins, and he almost sounds exasperated, before he pauses, and softens his tone. “I should tell them not to bother you,” he says, but you can hear the subtle question beneath the statement. He sounds sympathetic and gentle in just about the only manner that doesn’t automatically make you retch these days.

Your eyes dip down to your hands on your desk, and you spin your pen skilfully around your pointer, ring, and third fingers. It was a trick you had picked up several years ago, confined to a hospital bed and with nothing else to occupy your mind.

When you look back up, you see Mav eying your movements, his lips pulling down in the corners. He knew as well as you did by now that it was an anxious habit.

“I don’t mind. Really, having them around is nice… everyone around here treats me like I’m made of glass, it’s nice to just… have friends,” you purse your lips and drop your pen, before reaching out and straightening the model jet that a certain pilot had been playing with earlier. Another nervous tick that doesn’t go unnoticed.

You didn’t talk about this subject with many people, if anyone, but since being introduced to Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, you’d discovered the man’s earnest, ironically down-to-earth kindness was good at weeding the truth out of those around him.

“I think…” Mav starts but trails off, looking out into the hall quickly, and then stepping further into your office, letting the door close behind him before he continues. “I think they know that if things were different, you would have been recalled alongside them. They respect you for that,” he tells you softly.

You were never one for bragging, but you can’t deny that he was probably right. Still, you scoff out a small laugh and cross your arms over your chest.

“I think they’re just teacher’s pets,” you try to brush off his praise.

Maverick only shoves his hands in his pockets with a fond smile and shrugs.

“I’m just saying, they treat you like one of their own for a reason,” his face turns more serious then, and he drops his chin slightly. “But I understand if having them around all the time brings up some difficult feelings. Just say the word and…” he trails off again, just as someone calls for him out in the corridor.

You shake your head definitively then and smile softly, but genuinely. You were thankful that he’d even thought about that angle at all. To be honest, you were thankful in general for the oddball friendship the two of you had struck up while working together.

“Really, Mav, it’s fine. They won’t be able to sit around here forever, so it’s nice to have them back for as long as I can,” you pick up your pen again, and spin it mindlessly in your fingers. Neither of you point out that you didn’t even know half of the detachment before they’d been recalled to Miramar for their most recent assignment. You couldn’t really describe it as ‘having them back’, but you know he gets what you mean.

Maverick watches you closely for several more seconds, his eyes dropping to your spinning pen, then back to your face.

“Do me a favour while you’re up there, Cap?” you ask, leaning forward on your desk. Mav straightens up some and cocks his head.

“Shoot down everyone who argued for Kong,” you tease with a grin, and receive a laugh and a lazy salute in reply before you’re left completely alone once more.

You brush the memory aside, another train of thought crossing your mind.

You flick your eyes to Hangman’s neatly pressed tan uniform, and then to your watch for the time. Doing your best to sound nonchalant, you clear your throat, but don’t look away from your work.

“What are you guys still doing here?” you ask, referring to the late afternoon time, and the fact they’d clearly already run simulations this morning. Their duties for the day would have been finished at least an hour ago, giving them time to shower and change into their khakis.

“We’re headed to the Hard Deck after clock-off,” Coyote says, picking up an abandoned stress ball left behind on one of the desks and tosses it across the room where Phoenix easily catches it with one hand, before quickly offloading it to Rooster, who pitches it to Payback.

“You should’ve already clocked off by my count,” you say quietly, trying to sound more than only half-focused on your work.

“You’ve still got an hour,” Rooster tells you unnecessarily. You were aware now of what they were waiting for, and despite yourself, your heart grows warm.

“You know I can always just meet you there,” you say after clearing your throat once more.

“And give you the chance to skip out on shots again, Teddy Bear?” Hangman cuts in, somehow managing the feat of smirking and pouting at the same time.

“You know I don’t drink, right?” you cock your head at him with a squint, but he only shrugs.

For a moment your eyes linger on his mouth as he flicks a toothpick between his lips and tongue, having produced it from somewhere when you weren’t looking. When you lift your gaze again, he lets you know he’d spotted your shift in focus with a taunting lift of his brows, his smirk growing to near Cheshire proportions. You can only shake your head good-naturedly at his antics.

“Well, we figured we’d all just head on over together when you got done,” Coyote says, drawing your attention. You open your mouth to protest once more, not wanting them to feel obligated to stick around just for you, but you’re cut off by Phoenix.

“You get to dunk on any greens today?” she asks, a smile playing on her lips. Her question successfully distracts you and you drag your eyes away from Coyote with a matching smile and a scoff.

“There’s always one or two in a new class,” you roll your eyes.

“Do they not get that you have a pretty big say in whether or not they get their certification?” Phoenix asks rhetorically. You just shrug and absently start spinning your pen between your fingers.

“Well, if they don’t, they learn quickly or they learn the hard way,” you reply. It wasn’t in your nature to grandstand or call people out, especially in front of their peers, but you also weren’t going to allow some snot-nosed pilot to walk all over you. They tended to straighten up and shut their mouths once Warlock or Cyclone himself had a word or two with them.

The conversation easily flows on after that, and you occupy the rest of your afternoon finishing up a few tasks you needed to get done for Monday, chipping in with a comment here or there.

Your F-22 somehow finds its way back into Hangman’s clutches while you’re distracted, but this time there’s an almost child-like curiosity to him as he inspects the model exhaustively, and you find that you don’t have the heart to take it off him again.

When five o’clock ticks around at last, you pack up your desk and note with fond amusement that your model is promptly returned to the exact position you liked. Once you’ve grabbed your coat and bag, you allow yourself to be whisked away.

***

It never seemed to matter what day of the week it was, the Hard Deck was consistently busy. You suppose it helps to have the Naval base so close by, which was like having built-in regulars, as well as a stream of constant new faces.

You can still remember vividly the first time you stepped foot inside the bar, almost eight years ago now, still fresh-faced, a little wet behind the ears, and filled with the sort of energy only a twenty-two-year-old hot-shot Naval Aviator can possess. Back then you hadn’t really spent all that much time off North Island, but ever since Dagger squad had been around, you’d found yourself happy to be regularly crammed into one of the many small booths.

The sound of pool balls bouncing off one another cracks sharply and draws you back into the present. You throw a cursory glance toward the ongoing pool game, your lip quirking at the intensely competitive expressions on everyone’s faces. At this point in the night, they were all taking the game seriously still, but you know that later it would descend into thinly veiled duels over who could sink the coolest trick shot– or more entertainingly– making up some weird ‘dogfight’ version of the rules that would have generally have onlookers baffled.

Bob steps into sight then, briefly blocking your view of the game as he places two sodas down on the table between you, before somehow folding his not insignificant height into the booth opposite you. You watch fondly as he ducks forward to sweep back some hair that had uncharacteristically fallen into his eyes, looking almost like someone had ruffled it.

“Thanks!” you pull your drink towards you and take a sip, relishing in the ice-cold fizz that almost burns on its way down your throat.

“Penny said they’re on her,” he tells you, his mussed-up hair making sense now. You turn quickly to find Penny in her usual spot behind the bar, and even as she busily works to serve orders, you catch her eye, and send her a thankful wave. You hadn’t fully figured out why Penny never seemed to charge you or Bob for your drinks, but you were grateful regardless.

“So… opinions on the Spitfire and the Mustang?” you ask, watching the way Bob’s eyes light up behind his oversized glasses.

“The fuel capabilities and combat range of the Mustang outclass Spitfires by a mile,” Bob tells you, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on the table in front of him.

“But I’d be lying if I said that the Spitfire wasn’t my favourite,” he tells you almost giddily, and his smile is contagious.

“I mean, it just looks so cool!” you exclaim in agreement, glad that you were on the same page. Bob’s nose scrunches sweetly as he takes a drink from his glass, nodding all the while.

“I’m going to work on the Mk 24 this weekend,” you tell him a moment later. “The curator at the museum of Naval Aviation is letting me backstage this weekend, so I can take some reference photos of the paintjob,” you had to admit you were rather excited about the whole thing, but even still, you speak somewhat quietly, making sure you won’t be overheard.

It was silly, and you don’t really know where it comes from, but you felt shy about your weekend pass time. Maybe it was because it felt like the hobby of an elderly man, but regardless, you’d found a friend in Bob, who had expressed his fondness for miniature model building upon spying the F-22 Raptor you kept on your desk.

Phoenix had blinked between the two of you that first lunchtime they’d spent in your office, as you’d both discussed at length the model series you liked most, as well as preferred painting techniques. Bob didn’t actively build anything himself; he was too convinced he’d become completely obsessed, and in his own words he ‘didn’t need any more obstacles to getting a date’, but he’d let himself get invested in the online community back during his first deployment.

You’re about to ask if he (and likely by extension, Phoenix) would like to come along with you, but a nearby conversation makes you pause.

“Richter told me it’s cause she waited too long to pull her chute, wasn’t enough time for a clear landing,” a male voice says.

“If she was so good, how’d she mess that up?” another voice asks, scoffing back their disbelief.

“Apparently she refused to eject without WSO, but he got knocked out on first impact,” a third voice fills in, sounding far less derisive.

“I heard that she was lucky she even survived long enough for the medics to find them,” the first voice first voice returns, sounding somewhat awed.

“Guess it’s kind of fortunate she saved her WSO then, huh?” the second voice replies.

“’Fortunate’?! You’re joking, right? Kodiak has to be the unluckiest pilot the Navy has ever had!” the third speaker exclaims, a little louder this time, mirth filling his voice now.

“She got shot down right outta TOPGUN, pulled her chute so late she hit the ground hard enough to puncture both her lungs, and then she contracts some infection or whatever the hell else, wrecking her lungs to the point she’s now got goddamn lung disease!” A pause follows his frantic sounding rant, followed by the sound of an emptied beer bottle being fisted down.

“Honestly, I think I’d just have preferred to die in the crash,” the second person says, his tablemates voicing their quick agreement.

You blink at the frank coldness of the statement, and even though you try, you can’t stop yourself from taking a quick look over your shoulder in the direction of where the voices were coming from. You spy a table with three of your current students, which quickly makes you flick your head back around again before they see you.

Their discussion of your accident doesn’t bother you; you’d come to expect it these days. Whenever a new class came through it was all but inevitable that they would gossip to each other about their civilian instructor, more specifically about your unique situation. You couldn’t blame them really; it wasn’t as though they were wrong about you being incredibly unlucky. Frankly, your fragile health condition felt like an utterly sarcastic response from the universe for having the nerve to be young, driven, and extremely promising in your chosen career. Like the outcome of some Wishmaster bargain.

Back when you’d still been able to fly, you had gotten familiar with being the best. You were a damn good pilot, and it was clear to everyone around you from the moment you got in a cockpit. You never let it go to your head though, after all, it wasn’t just pure natural talent. You had worked incredibly hard to make sure you were outdoing yourself every time you got in the air, to make sure that you were constantly punching up, challenging yourself.

You certainly weren’t the youngest pilot to be invited to go to Miramar to get your TOPGUN certification, not by a long shot, but you were the youngest in over thirty years to graduate top of the class.

Putting yourself in your students’ shoes, knowing all of that, coupled with the fact that you would never again be able to fly… Well, it added up to be a perfect kind of tragedy, really. It was a cautionary tale to some, a dramatic fable to others.

As far as you were concerned, you’d made your peace with your conditions a long time ago. There was no point in dwelling on something you had no control over and couldn’t change. You chose instead to focus on what you could have control over, so you took all your potential, all of that raw talent, and channelled it down a new path.

At the end of the day, you were alive, relatively unharmed, and able to work in a field you adored. You couldn’t complain about that.

“Do you… do you want me to say something?” Bob’s voice cuts through your reverie, and you find yourself blinking back at him with wide, puzzled eyes.

“What?” you ask dopily, unsure of what exactly he meant. Your confusion is cleared up a moment later however, when he dips his chin toward the table of your students, his eyes flickering nervously between you and them. Clearly, he had overheard the conversation too.

Your face softens at that, and you shake your head gently.

“No, it’s alright. They aren’t doing anything wrong,” you wave him off, but deep down, you feel touched that Bob, who seemed to despise any kind of one-on-one confrontation, was willing to step in on your behalf. You see him purse his lips uncertainly.

“What happened to me isn’t exactly usual,” you remind him, trying to sound light and airy. “There’s always some talk surrounding it when I get a new class. They’ll get it out of their systems and move on soon enough,” you assure him, and you mean it, however it takes several more seconds of your companion studying your features before his face and posture relax, and he gives you an almost nervous little nod.

You take a sip of your drink and look away to check the current status of the ongoing pool game. A glance tells you that predictably Hangman was in the lead, but not because of the number of balls he’d sunk, but more due to his peacock-like display from the sidelines. You watch as he turns and cocks his head at Phoenix, saying something clearly taunting, his signature infuriating smirk pulled across his features.

You struggle to keep a straight face when behind Hangman’s back, Payback reaches into the nearest basket and retrieves one of the insufferable blonde’s balls and places it back on the table. You make eye contact as he steps innocently away, and you share a look of sworn secrecy. You wonder briefly how long this has been going on for already, but more than that, you wonder how long it’ll take before Hangman notices.

“How’d you save your WSO?” Bob’s question makes you snap your gaze sharply back to his, and you realise he hadn’t looked away from you yet. You stutter for a moment, before blinking away your surprise.

“I… I released the yoke and shook him awake…” you mutter. Sure, you weren’t bothered when others spoke about your accident, but you never discussed it yourself. Bob considers your words carefully, before he lifts his chin slightly, his eyes flickering between yours.

“That’s why your altitude was so low when you ejected,” it isn’t a question, it’s a missing piece of the puzzle, to him at least, and for the first time in your (admittedly short) friendship, you find yourself forced to look away.

In your efforts to look anywhere but at Bob, you accidentally make eye contact with Hangman. He’s bent over the pool table, facing directly towards you, and with no small amount of amusement behind his look, he holds your gaze and blindly takes his shot, expertly sinking the ball without even looking.

You can picture him performing the trick to impress one of the many women that often fawn over him at the Hard Deck, how the display alone would get them hook, line, and sinker.

You, on the other hand, find yourself practically staring through him as you try to banish all further thoughts of your accident from your mind. Unfortunately, your expression mustn’t be as blank as you’d thought it was, because as Hangman straightens once more to his full height, his eyebrows crease together, and his gaze abruptly flickers down, quickly taking note of how stiff and uncomfortable you are.

When he meets your eyes again, his frown has only deepened, and you watch dumbly as he cocks his head questioningly. It occurs to you then, that you don’t think you’ve ever seen him tip his head like that without a hefty helping of mockery to go alongside it. Concern isn’t exactly an emotion you’re used to from Hangman, and you aren’t really sure of how to process it properly. Instead, you tear your eyes away from him entirely, and face Bob again.

You suddenly can’t remember why this conversation had felt so daunting a moment ago.

“Hey, can we talk about something else?” you ask lightly, thankful when your booth buddy nods happily, looking up as you’re joined by Halo, who deposits a bowl of chips on the table, before squeezing in next to Bob.

You ignore looking in Hangman’s direction for the next hour or so. Normally you had all the patience in the world for Hangman’s button pushing, but right now you’re not sure you can muster up the energy to take any of it.

To be honest you found him amusing, though you were well aware that you’d never been on the receiving end of his more overtly malicious jabs, which he seemed to make less of these days anyway. Unlike most of the people around you, especially aviators, Hangman didn’t treat you as though you would break with the lightest of touches. His blatantly flippant and laissez-faire approach to your generally sensitive circumstances was more than welcome.

Still, even you had bad days, and after your questioning earlier, you didn’t really feel like joking right now. If he was really concerned, he could ask you about it later, but you’re almost certain he’ll have forgotten by tomorrow morning.

***

Just like a reflection of the Hard Deck itself, as the night wanes on, your already cramped booth steadily fills up with aviators. The scarred wooden table at the centre is scattered with empty glasses and beer bottles, and the bowl of fries Halo had brought over earlier was long devoured. The pool game had ended some time ago, the polished edges of the table now being used as extra seating, which you know Penny would hate.

You’d found it thankfully easy to put aside the heaviest aspects of your earlier tailspin, checking into the rowdy conversation happily. A few of the younger pilots, not your students, had approached the table earlier, and after they’d left again, to fill another round most likely, you’d found yourself bashfully rolling your eyes and shaking your head as the squad had heckled you over the mooning of the younger men.

It had to be nearing midnight when you at last extract yourself from the sticky seating. The air had become hot and heady now, not just within the space of your booth, but throughout the bar as a whole. It wasn’t too bad, but it did feel thick in your lungs, and you knew it could quickly grow into a large problem for you, may as well refresh yourself now.

Stepping through the door to the empty back deck of the venue, you’re amazed at how much noise the simple wood and glass doors can muffle. The night was dark, but in front of you somewhere, you can hear the lapping of the waves, and you step out closer to the railing, breathing in deeply the sea salt air.

You’re a little ashamed to say you jump at the sound of the back door opening again, the roar inside drowning out the ocean for a few seconds, and you turn back to see Hangman gently closing the door behind him.

He wears an easy expression as his eyes fall on you, and you look away to lean back against the railings as he approaches.

“Everything alright?” The lightness in his voice is easily discernible as put on, but frankly, you’re too surprised by the question to figure out why.

“Huh?” you blink up at him with a frown as he comes to lean against the rail besides you, his back toward the ocean and his arms crossed over his chest. The pose, and his proximity make him seem even larger.

“Earlier, you, uh, you looked all…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, and you note that he also doesn’t mockingly demonstrate however he thought you’d looked. You straight up a little, your frown smoothing out.

“Oh, everything is fine. Bob just… he just asked me something about my crash,” you only decide halfway through your sentence to tell him the truth, and you can tell by the ensuing pause, and the way he flicks his eyes carefully over your face that he hadn’t really been expecting you to tell him.

As if he realises his surprise has been visible, he clears his throat and looks away from you, back toward the doors.

“Huh. Wouldn’ta thought Bobby-Boy had it in him,” he says shifting his stance slightly, still not looking back at you. You can practically hear him thinking.

“Hm, you clearly don’t know him very well,” you say wryly, your smile only growing when his face whips back to yours, an almost mortified look of alarm painted over his features.

“Oh Jesus, Jake, not like that,” you reach out and shove his arm roughly, giving a scoff at his stupid man-brain.

Predictably, your shove doesn’t do too much to dislodge him, but you can at least enjoy the feeling of his hard muscle under your hand for a moment. His alarm is replaced with a derisive sort of disgust, but you can tell it's playful more than anything else.

“Good,” he says flatly, and this time doesn’t look away from you, resuming his regular routine of using his stare as some kind of powerplay. You shake your head even as you glance back to squint out at the ocean, your smile still pulling at your lips involuntarily.

“You’re so insecure,” you tease him, earning a scoff.

“Excuse me?!”

You can see his chest puffing out of the corner of your gaze.

“I take my attention off of you for one second and you’re going nutter-butter and getting all pouty about it,” you chortle, glancing briefly back up at him. Even in the dim outdoor lighting you can see the light pink wash that has coloured his ears.

He’s seemingly only able to glower down at you in response, clearly unimpressed at just how aware you were that you had him wrapped around your finger. He scoffs again, looking away, but doesn’t speak, and your grin widens.

You liked him when he was like this. You liked him all the time, but especially when he gave up on trying to get the upper hand in the conversation, and just let things be. When he was a little less Hangman and a little more Jake. It strikes you, however, that he doesn’t even attempt to argue back, the silence stretching on between you saying more than enough.

You look away and nudge him once more, using your whole shoulder this time, which seems to take him off guard, and he sways lightly at your touch.

“Besides, I only have eyes for one aviator,” you say lightly. Hangman’s shoulders square, and his lips begin to form a familiar Cheshire grin as straightens up to his full height, looking down at you almost haughtily.

“Damn straight,”

“I was talking about Rooster,” you tease, and you’re glad the playfulness has returned, his hand covering his heart as his face twists in faux pain.

“You’re cruel, you know that darlin’?”

You let out a laugh as Hangman stares down at you, the fond look in his eyes only turning sharp and annoyed when the back door opens again, and you both look up to spy an unfamiliar man stepping out of the bar.

He seems oblivious to the moment he’s interrupted, sending you both a quick nod before he moves to stand a couple of metres away from you at the railing, his hands fiddling with something. You watch as he tucks a cigarette between his lips, and lifts his lighter to the ends, cupping his free hand around the flame so the cool breeze won’t blow it out.

Before you get a chance to say anything, besides you your companion has stiffened, straightening to his full height once again and stepping away from the rail.

“You can’t smoke here,” he says loudly, catching the guy’s attention as he blows out his first puff, and shoves his lighter away. He looks around at the decking, before his eyes land back on Hangman.

“I don’t see a sign,” he says evenly.

Hangman has stepped around you completely now, almost blocking your view of the other man, who you must note, wouldn’t stand a chance against the aviator if he decided to get physical.

“Listen buddy, my friend’s got a pretty sensitive lung problem, if she breathes in any of that, she’ll get real sick, so I’m asking if you can go stand somewhere else?”

You’re surprised by his words, and despite the patient sound of them, his tone is nowhere near as restrained. You gently reach out for the arm that he’d used to gesture back at you, even as the other man blows out another smokey breath.

“Jake, it’s fine, we can go,” you say, a pit building in your stomach when he doesn’t even look back down at you, the muscle of his jaw beginning to tick.

“Yeah. You can go,” the other man smirks, and somehow, it’s even more infuriating and smug than any of Hangman’s has ever been.

Your grip on your friend’s arm tightens too late as he pulls away from you, reaching the other man in only two strides as you call out for him to stop. Ignoring you, Hangman rips the cigarette from the other man’s mouth and tosses it into the sand, where it blows out.

“Jake!” you shout, a little louder as he gets in the other guy’s face, and you realise your voice is echoed by another.

Phoenix stands in the open doorway, and behind her you can see Coyote by the booth, throwing a curious glance your way. You shake your head at him, just as Phoenix repeats her stern call. Hangman snaps out of it, and steps back from the man. By the time he’s turned back to you, his face reads nothing of the anger he’d just displayed.

“Come on, it’s getting cold, anyway,” he says flippantly. You’re only able to frown at him, but he seems to ignore it, carefully pushing past Phoenix who still stands in the doorway, fixing Jake with a firm look he subsequently brushes off.

“Guy was an asshole,” he mutters by way of explanation. She moves aside for you to follow, and you can only give her a shrug in response to the eyebrow she raises at you.

You find yourself following Jake as he leads you back towards the bar, instead of the booth, and when your senses finally come back to you, you smack his arm sharply.

“You didn’t need to do that! The last thing you need is to get cited for fighting. They’d ground you!” you scold, even as he guides you into one of the stools.

“Nah, you love it, s’why you keep me around,” he rebuffs, flagging down a bartender and relaying your drinks order. You frown at him again as he leans casually against the wooden surface and looks down at you.

“No… I keep you around because you’re my friend,” you tell him, still annoyed, though it lessens when his smirk morphs into something more like surprise.

Your drinks are pushed toward you with nary another word, and Jake taps his card without even breaking your eye contact.

“How’d you even know I can get sick from smoke?” you change the subject quickly, but his face only turns even more bashful, and he looks down at his beer and shrugs.

“Mav told us,” he says, making you blanch.

“He what?” you demand, almost angry for a moment. You didn’t like being treated like glass, you didn’t like when people worried over you unnecessarily–

“He just said we should always wash up before going to your office, the jet fumes were enough to irritate your lungs.”

Your anger subsides, and you feel a little foolish. Of course, Mav hadn’t told them out of pity. He was right, the harsh fumes lingering on their flight suits could be enough to make your respiratory system inflamed. You’d learnt the hard way after you’d started teaching.

“Just figured if traces on us were enough to make you sick, then second-hand smoke definitely would,” Jake follows up, cutting his eyes back towards you, and you can’t help but smile softly. You lean forwards, chin resting in your palm, making him cock his head down at you.

“For someone who takes pride in pissing off his friends, you really do care a lot, don’t you?” Your question makes him bluster, and he tries his best to look nonchalant and annoyed, but his quirking lips give him away.

He leans in toward you too, close enough that you almost pull back, but you steal yourself instead as he gets a hold of his face, and fixes you with an infuriating, yet fond smirk.

“Only for you, Teddy Bear.”

[hislittleraincloud]

✨💕🖤#Wenovan/#BlackBubblegum AI hug💙💕✨

[shimshamshimsham]

Welcome to my blog ! why are you here .

music acc: @galvixen

Important info !

-i am a minor

-i use she/it pronouns

-i am aro/acespec, bi and trans

Here's some tags ifu wanna see my original stuff:

#yt - promotion for my youtube stuff

#my art - take a wild guess

#text post - stuff that's purely text

#comic - personal comics I've made, tho there might be some reblogs in there idk

#afterburn - my original comic ! I plan to make an actual story thing someday , but fn these are just small snippets of me messing around .

Stuff I reblog ! :

-things I find funny

-queer whatevrs (trans stuff , ace stuff , other)

-fandom stuff ( eg . undertale/deltarune , homestuck , amphibia , and various other stuffs . )

-important shits (Palestine , occasional us politics , and serious transgender stuff )

my links ! :

yt :

bandcamp :

carrd:

Thanks for reading ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! enjoy my blog . or else .

donate to gazafunds btw ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

[hislittleraincloud]

Sorry not sorry snobs, mine is from the Van Vick area of Germany 🇩🇪

...💩⛓️🍻

It’s only fanfic if it’s from the Fanfique region of France. Otherwise it’s just sparkling pornography.

[cullthedeer]

afterburn

Archive warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Luke Hughes & Quinn Hughes. Alternate Universe, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Aftermath of Violence, Complicated Relationships, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat --- more warnings in link.

800 words.

Here's a kind of love only feral things understand: Quinn makes Luke crawl to him in the dark.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fic Rec Masterlist

As requested, here is the list of all the fics recommended for my road trip :) Thank you to everyone who sent them in!

*if I missed any, let me know*

Many of these are 18+ and please read any warnings

Jake "Hangman" Seresin:

Damn Those Dog tags - @horseshoegirl (series)

Don't Hang'em Til Noon - @sailor-aviator (series)

If You Please - @the-authoress-writes (one-shot)

This is Only Temporary - @lenafromthenordiccoven (mini-series)

The Backup - @ereardon (series; in progress)

Snowed In - @ereardon (mini-series)

Sleepy Baby - @discount-shades (series)

Contract Spouse - @discount-shades (series)

Dead or Alive - @discount-shades (series)

Fuck: The Universe - @roosterbruiser (series)

Snitches Get Stitches - @goldenseresinretriever (series)

Oh, Deer - @wkndwlff (one-shot)

She Blinded Me with Science - @wkndwlff (one-shot)

Pulled Strings - @missathlete31 (one-shot)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw:

it's a slow build, baby, until afterburn - @callsign-madusa (series)

Terms of Endearment - @ohtobeleah (series)

The Actress and The Aviator - @greenorangevioletgrass (series)

That Summer - @ereardon (series)

Golden Hour - @ereardon (series; also with Bob; in progress)

Cruel Summer - @roosterbruiser (series; with Jake)

Cardinal Rule - @mamachasesmayhem (series; in progress)

Heavy is the Head - @mamachasesmayhem (series; in progress)

Honeyverse - @mamachasesmayhem (series)

Je te Laisserai Des Mots - @jupitercomet (series)

How You Play the Game - @roosterforme (series)

The Boyfriend Experience - @notroosterbradshaw (series)

Sunday Scaries - @wkndwlff (one-shot)

Bottoms Up - @wkndwlff (one-shot)

Ao3:

Wingmen - TheDarkSeaofSecrets

My Brother's Best Friend - Lyndun407

The Mission - Lyndun407

Recommended Masterlists:

Masterlist - @roosterforme

Masterlist - @wkndwlff

Masterlist - @bobfloydsbabe

Masterlist - @demxters

Masterlist - @hangmanssunnies

Masterlist - @top-hhun

@talkfastromance4

Masterlist - @callsign-phoenix

Masterlist - @kryptonitejelly

Masterlist - @callsigndragon

@callsignlucky

Masterlist - @jupitercomet

Masterlist - @beyondthesefourwalls

[witchy-worm]

It's posting day for my first @deancashorrorfest collab! This year was a reverse bang, @shineforthee claimed my art piece and wrote a truly incredible fic for it. Please go check it out here: Link to Fic

I wanted to do something a bit different with this one, so I started off by drawing Cas, Dean, and the basic background in Illustrator. Then I imported it into photoshop and painted in most of the details.

Special thanks to our @deancashorrorfest mod for running such a smooth and fun event! This was my first time doing horrorfest but I'll definitely be back for more.

Banner and fic info behind the cut

Author: @shineforthee | Artist: @witchy-worm

Rating: Mature

Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Grief & Loss, Ambiguous Ending, Derealization, Apocalypse, Suicidal Ideation

Summary: Dean has always known it was ending. The world, that is. He knew it when he was three, awake and screaming in the middle of the night with the image of fire leaving an afterburn behind his eyelids. He knew it while he learned to ride a bike, while he went to his first school dance, had his first kiss, tipped back his first beer with his dad. He knew it when dad left, too. When Sammy died. When it all began to crumble.

He has always known it was ending. Now he's alone in a cabin somewhere so far north and so far west that he thinks half the continent never knew it existed in the first place, and he's got the same damn nightmares, the same burn behind his eyes, and the sense that ending is a verb that goes on and on into eternity and outside of time.

[hislittleraincloud]

I make it a point not to read fan fic while in the process of writing my own because I don't like any of it to influence my writing, and I would rather any ideas I have come organically from thought, either deep or fleeting. However, since my Afterburn Wenclay relationship is set in its game-playing stone at the moment as I continue to work on Chapter 8 and beyond (in the beyond that was written over a year ago, Bianca is actually Wednesday's second in command for many reasons), I figured that it would be fine to read this one.

All that registered in my brain for this one is that we need more of it in this fandom. While it's got some technical issues (needs copyediting), the tone, the characterizations, the tension and angst...it's all there. Pin-pointed, with the accuracy of Bianca's foil strike.

Finally figured out what to name my fic.

Wednesday Addams has gone insane. That must be it, because why else would she stand here and accuse Bianca of using her siren song on her.

And Bianca must be insane also. Why else would she stand here and plead her case to someone who clearly didn't believe her.

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:) Every Kind Of Way: Three little vignettes, three completely different experiences, same perfectly wonderful boyfriend JK. https://gukslut.tumblr.com/post/187387424476/every-kind-of-way-m-jjk Cake: Wedding night with JK. https://gukslut.tumblr.com/post/642965300830257152/cake-m-jjk House Of Balloons: Fleeing from your high-society life to defy your parents and everything you've been raised with, you find yourself at the House of Balloons. A den of darkness, allure, and chaos. And there's Jungkook, waiting to challenge your beliefs - and your very sense of self. https://www.tumblr.com/guksvault/767384374567124992/house-of-balloons-jjk

Foundation: You know Jungkook is a fuckboy. So why are you letting him fuck with you? https://hamsterclaw.tumblr.com/post/670899863885627393/foundation

Soft: Jungkook doesn’t think of himself as being overly emotional. Why does everyone keep telling him he wears his heart on his sleeve? https://hamsterclaw.tumblr.com/post/673718918338199552/soft Criminal: You and your partner, Taehyung, are investigating the murder of a lawyer. Your investigation forces you to uncover truths that hit a little too close to home. https://hamsterclaw.tumblr.com/post/664691974863028224/criminal Tag: You met Jungkook years ago, when you were a rookie cop and he was brought in for defacing public property. Now he's an established artist, and a chance encounter brings you together. https://www.tumblr.com/hamsterclaw/688159803449688064/tag

Lush: Jungkook’s built his empire from nothing, and he’s damn well going to sit back and enjoy the spoils. https://hamsterclaw.tumblr.com/post/684065491693748224/lush

Politico: Jungkook and you are staffers in the office of the Secretary of State. He's cut-throat, sneaky and goddamn it, everything you love about politics in one irresistible package. https://www.tumblr.com/hamsterclaw/699971996899016704/politico?source=share 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. https://www.tumblr.com/hamsterclaw/708450617638649856/afterburner?source=share

[honkytonk-hangman]

Flight Risk

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: The sky beyond the baking tarmac is cloudless, and washed with deep reds and oranges, the way it always is by the time Jake lands when the monthly inter-squad training simulation has drawn to a close. Almost always.

Today, the sky had been a bright Carolina blue.

Today, Hangman had been shot down.

Warnings: cussing? jake being soppy. mentions of handsy dates, sexual referencessss

Notes: so this started as an AU for my fic Afterburn, and still technically is, however it can be read totally independently of that story as well.

Jake is perched in a casual lean against his plane, watching as the last jet in the pattern finally lands, continuing to wait patiently as the Super Hornet is guided to its designated area, just a few places down from his own. The sky beyond the baking tarmac is cloudless, and washed with deep reds and oranges, the way it always is by the time Jake lands when the monthly inter-squad training simulation has drawn to a close. Almost always.

Today, the sky had been a bright Carolina blue.

Today, Hangman had been shot down.

Jake takes a small amount of comfort in knowing that the pilot responsible for his simulated demise is also the pilot to win the day, despite that meaning his own squad losing out on the point. It wouldn’t happen again, however. He’d foolishly underestimated you, disregarded the gossip he’d overheard about Samurai squad’s newest member, choosing instead to judge for himself. Jake was a prideful son of a bitch at the best of times, and much worse at most others, but he wasn’t actually incapable of shutting the hell up and accepting his slice of humble pie.

At least, he’d accept it in his own special way, which is exactly why he waits long after the others have filtered off to the locker rooms. They’re already clocked off for the day by the time the ground crew have secured the last jet, and the pilot has climbed down. Jake shifts on his feet and gets a good look as you approach, purposefully giving you a suggestive up and down as you spot him and slow your walk.

“That was some flyin’,” he says, pushing off the side of his own jet and coming to stand before you. You blink at him, but raise an eyebrow as you manoeuvre your helmet to rest against your hip.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” you ask, eyes sparkling in amusement. Jake grabs at his chest, like you’ve shot him down again, and winces.

“Aw, c’mon, Kodiak” he starts, before fixing you with a piercing stare. “I don’t give out compliments that often, give it to me easy.”

“Only thing I’ll give you is my afterburner.”

Jake can’t help himself, he grins wide. He knows he should keep up the banter, you were clearly well equipped to spar with him, didn’t seem to take anything too personally so far, but all he can think as he stares at the first pilot to ever shoot him down, sweat slicking your flyaway hairs to your forehead, the sunsetting below the tarmac behind you, your cheeks a little ruddy from your time in the air, is that he’s going to marry you.

Luckily, Jake has the good sense to keep this to himself for now.

He steps forward slightly, and holds out his hand, watching as you eye it suspiciously for a moment.

“I’m Hangman,” he tells you as you relent and shake his hand.

“I know who you are, that's why I went for you first.” you reply with surprisingly little smugness in your voice, just plain truth. Jake lifts an eyebrow at you.

“Using me to raise your profile I see,” he teases. You don’t seem to notice that you’re still shaking his hand, and Jake feels slightly thankful, because he’s memorising the way it feels. You scoff at him.

“And what would you have done?” you challenge. Jake just looks your features over, and decides an evening ceremony will be perfect.

You realise then that you’re still shaking his hand, and you hurriedly pull away, moving to hold your helmet in both hands as if to stop yourself from reaching out again.

“I need to go do my post-flight checks,” you say quickly, sidestepping Jake and moving off toward the hanagar, and probably the showers. Jake turns and watches you go, his smile never faltering.

“Kodiak!” he calls out, waiting for you to stop and turn back to him before going on. “I enjoyed flying with you.” Jake tells you honestly, but musters his most serious expression so that you’ll know that too. He watches your brows furrow suspiciously for a moment, almost like you’re expecting him to laugh like it’s just a prank, but after a couple more seconds, your frown smooths into something more curious, before your face at last completely softens and you give him a small, but genuine smile.

“I enjoyed shooting you down,” you reply, your voice sincere, but your words catching him off guard and making Jake let out a surprised bark of laughter. 

Your smile widens just a little in the corners, like perhaps you had liked making him laugh, but soon enough you’re shifting your helmet in your hands again, and giving him a parting nod before once again you turn your back and walk away.

Jake stands still in place and watches as you shrink before at last disappearing entirely into the hangar. Once sure he’s alone, he places his hands on his hips and lets out a long, low whistle. He feels his heartbeat thump away rapidly in his chest, his adrenaline still spiking from just the thrill of speaking to you properly and in person for the first time, after being forced only to listen to your voice all afternoon on the radios.

It was a very nice voice, he thinks, both in person and on the radios, and it suits your very nice face very nicely. With a last whistle of approval, Jake begins making his own way inside, and even though he’d promised himself earlier that never again would he let you shoot him down, now he can’t help but think anything that brought you enjoyment was worth repeating.

Replaying your conversation over and over as he finally showers, changes, and heads home for the night, the first thing Jake does upon arriving in his apartment is reach for the pad and pen he keeps on the kitchen counter. He scribbles down the date, and writes out the highlights from your conversation as best as he remembers them. Peeling it off the pad, he folds it neatly, before placing it carefully inside the leather bound folder that held such items as his passport and birth certificate, before replacing it again in its hiding spot.

He wouldn’t need the contents of the note for a little while, he thinks, but when it came time to write the speech he’d give at your wedding, Jake wanted to know exactly where he could find it.

“Well, that was pathetic,” Javy nudges Jake in the ribs, and nods in your direction across the bar. Jake, who until now has been trying hard not to look your way, is finally given the perfect reason to do so, and swings his eyes over to you.

You’re sitting near the bar in your civvies, with a man who Jake can’t help but notice is not himself, and who is currently being awfully handsy for his liking. You don’t look completely comfortable either, but he also knows you have no trouble telling men to calm down when you aren’t feeling their advances. Neither reason adds up to exactly why Jake almost immediately chooses to abandon Javy by the pool table.

Part way across the bar, Jake realises that it’s not even a rescue attempt he’s trying for, clearly you were fine, no, this reaction from him is entirely new, spurred on by a good many things, but right now, by the abysmal looking date you were enduring. He slows his pace, and begins to move at a more natural gait, his lack of rush having no active affect on the crowds around him either way. Jake was both tall enough and wide enough that people tend to part for him as he walks regardless of asking.

He feels his chest puff out a little when you notice him coming before he even reaches you, and how even though he positions himself at the bar behind you, you seem to subconsciously turn a little to be able to look over at him anyway. Jake grins to himself when your ‘date’ seems to flounder at your seemingly captured attention, and quickly asks if you’d like another of the little cocktails you’d picked that night.  Jake can’t help but scoff internally. He’d asked you once why you drank beer with the squad, but only ordered fruit drinks when you had a date, to which you’d replied that you thought it appeared more feminine. Jake scoffs again, this time out loud.

“You’ll let this guy take you out, but not me? You don’t even like that, you’re not even drinking it!” he says quietly enough so that only you are able to hear the clipped annoyance in his words. You cock your head at him, and raise your straw to your lips either spitefully or indignantly.

“Still sour about that Jakey?” you tease. Despite the subject matter, and his frustration that these men you went out with seemingly had something Jake did not, he can’t help but feel pride pump through his veins upon seeing the way your face, especially your eyes, have lit up for the first time all night, something which he thinks should be a bare minimum when. If a man couldn’t engage you, then he just wasn’t good enough for you, was he?

Jake shrugs noncommittally in response to your question, both of you knowing full well the answer to that. Instead, he looks away from you briefly as the bartender approaches, but feels your gaze burning the side of his cheek.

“Two beers please,” he says, paying and waiting patiently for the drinks to be deposited on the bar before he looks back at you again. He nudges one in your direction, pretending as though he doesn’t care if you accept it or not, by taking a sip of his own. His faux-apathy is completely blown by the way he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, even as he drinks, waiting to see whether or not you’ll take the beer. You watch him with the barest amount of disapproval that you can muster, before almost shyly collecting up the chilled glass bottle in your hands.

“Are you forgetting something, perhaps? Oh, it’s super important, the name is on the tip of my tongue! What're they called again…?” you purse your lips and frown deeply, making an almost sincere show of recalling the information you’re after.

Jake waits as you seem to get it at last, snapping your finger and pointing it at him. “Fraternisation laws!” you exclaim overly enthusiastic for the topic at hand, contrasting with the way you stare flatly at him. Jake brushes your finger aside as he turns inward to face you fully, and cocks his head curiously down at you.

“You know I’ve already got my half of the paperwork filled out Teddy Bear, I’m just waitin’ on you.” Jake leans in toward you as he speaks, moving in near enough that one might call it risque, but he prefers intimate. For your part, you seem to be trying hard to suppress a smile, which you don’t succeed at, however you still shake your head at him anyway, and pull back, which makes Jake immediately step out of your space a little, returning to an appropriate distance for two officers.

“I bet you say that to all the pilots.” you say quietly, almost to yourself. The line is a worn cliche, he almost writes it off, except that your tone is entirely new, and entirely too put-out for your usual wave offs.

“Only the ones that keep shooting me down,” he replies after a beat watching you, not really certain how else he should reply to this development in your now storied routine of rejecting his interest, even though he knows that you like him very much. Fraternisation had been the last reason, though, nobody really took that seriously enough to not even bother navigating its murky depths of paperwork, but before that you’d listed not being hungry enough for dinner and having to video call with your model-building partner, neither serious excuses, right?

At this point Jake isn’t what one might say is desperate, but is what one might call unwilling to watch you sit through another completely inadequate date, with men who seemed to always be on the worst side of interested in you. That meant they fell somewhere firmly between sleazy and handsy, neither category of which was amongst Jake’s personal favourite reasons for liking you so much, which in no particular order included your excellence as an aviator, your sharp sense of humour, and your unbridled ambition.

Up until now, though, you’ve never once turned him away with something that sounded so much like it might be true. You’ve also never once stared up at him the way you are now, your expression significant, but unreadable to him.

Then, after thinking perhaps he had gotten somewhere real with you tonight, Jake feels a familiar twinge of disappointment as you turn back to your date, moving in closer to talk quietly with the man.

Jake looks down at his beer and lets out a sigh, ready to leave you to your fun, and return to his prior activity of pretending not to watch you from afar. When the man accompanying you noisily  steps back from the bar, the movement catches Jake’s eye, and he turns to see as the man looks briefly between you, before his eyes swing to Jake.

Jake hasn’t even caught on properly yet when your apparent former date turns on his heel and stalks darkly into the crowd, before at last disappearing entirely. Now free of your upsettingly poor choice of date, you swing your chair back around to face him, knees knocking into him with enough force to jolt Jake back to reality, where he discovers things to have played out almost exactly as he’d thought he’d been imagining them.

“Alright Seresin, you’ve got one shot at this,” you tell him, sounding like you don’t really mean it at all. Even so, Jake straightens and fixes you with his best self-assured smirk, but only because he knows you like it when he does.

“One shot is all I need,” he says proudly, before a few seconds pass and he finds himself blinking at the unintentional disclaimer he’s just given. “I mean, I’ll gladly take as many shots as you want, but–”

“Jesus, Jake! Anyone would think you haven't been laid in months!” you cut him off with a bark of laughter, your features in almost complete disbelief at such a thing. Jake pauses, hesitating with how he should respond, but eventually relaxes once more, and leans down on the bar again to fix you with his stare.

“Two months,” he informs you simply. You actually snort this time, which he finds utterly adorable, and you continue to chortle at his apparent joke, until you seem to realise he isn’t joining you. Your face falls then, and you blink at him in surprise, a flash of guilt mixing in with it, before you quickly attempt to play off your astonishment.

“Like, Seriously?” You ask, staring at him. Jake just nods, giving a short shrug, but doesn’t break your eye contact. After several more seconds pass, heavy with your bewilderment, you settle in your spot beside him one more, and let out a small huff. “Saving yourself for somebody special, then?” your eyebrows lift up as you ask, voice lilting with humour, but you don’t fully smile yet, like you’re afraid of still possibly offending him. Jake simply shrugs again, but rolls his eyes lightly. 

He’s well aware of his reputation before you, as is almost all on base who know him, or those who frequent the Navy bars scattered nearby. He thinks maybe he should have gone about distributing the updated information on him, however, because as far as Jake is concerned, he had been off the market for quite some time.

Unofficially, anyway.

“Oh, she’s very special, darlin’. Someone worth saving myself for. I think you’d like her a lot,” Jake does his best not to sound too goofy about it, but he swings almost too far the opposite way, and finds himself hoping to god that the purring quality to his voice as he speaks isn’t too much.

You stare at Jake for several seconds processing his line briefly, before at last scoffing and rolling your eyes as you turn slightly away from him to take a sip of your drink. Despite this reaction likely wounding a lesser man, Jake knows his words have resonated at least a little, because both your scoff or your eye roll half-hearted at best, both also completely undermined by the not-so-tiny smile you clearly can’t repress properly, even if you try to hide it by taking another sip.

“Answer me this, Seresin;” you start when a few minutes have passed, Jake having also taken to sipping his beer, choosing to let the subject settle between you for a bit. “I know about you, and I’m not like, slut-shaming you or anything, but how do I know all of this isn’t just the usual bullshit you parcel out? How do I know I’m not just another in a long line of others?” you ask, your voice surprisingly light for the frankness and seriousness of your words. Jake blinks at you, his brow furrowing this time, and notes the way your gaze flickers to the crease between his brows for half a second.

He places his beer down and blows out a puff of air. He doesn’t answer you right away, can’t really, because on some level he realises telling you that he’s been planning your lives together since the day you’d met won’t go down super well, but he also doesn’t want to misrepresent the level of his feelings toward you.

“Well, you don’t. I mean, you are,” he speaks carefully, already expecting the frown that appears on your face almost immediately, and quickly goes on. “But you’re the last in that line. I can promise you that.” Jake’s voice becomes involuntarily quieter as he finishes speaking, and he hates the uncertain sound the softness gives his words, but knows saying them again will only cheapen them.

You stare at one another for several heart-thumping seconds, and Jake wonders if the rest of the bar has all but disappeared for you too, or if you were still well aware of everything going on around you. For all Jake knew, the bar didn’t even exist right now. And then you move, your eyes bouncing up to blink at him slowly like a cat, before they drop to your feet in an embarrassed sort of way Jake can truthfully say he’d never have imagined of you.

“I asked Javy a few weeks ago if you were sick, or something,” you say, looking back up at him with a laugh in your voice now. “I saw you turn down, like, six different women that night, and I don’t know, I was genuinely concerned for your health.” You tell him, making a small smile pull at the corners of Jake’s lips that you’d been worried about him at all, had watched him long enough to see him turn others away.

“You know what he said? He just rolled his eyes at me and said that, no, actually, you weren’t fine at all, that you were in love with me, and if he’s honest, it wasn’t cute anymore, and had become totally insufferable,” You laugh properly this time as you relay the information, and Jake can’t help but chuckle too.

“And so you thought you’d let me stew for a few more weeks? Have I not been a good boy enough already?” Jake asks with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He knew he was getting to the end of his rope tonight, but in reality, it never mattered to him how many weeks or months you made him wait, any amount of time would have been worth it. You shrug and dip your eyes away from him to dance around the room.

“Not exactly. I mean, I didn’t totally believe Javy, but I figured there might’ve been some truth there. I mean what is this, like, the… fifth time in two months you’ve asked me out?” You question, half to yourself as you do some maths.

“Fifth times the charm,” Jake replies seriously, having no other memory anymore of how the quote is supposed to go and not entirely realising he’s said it wrong at all. You snicker at this glimpse at just how far gone he is, but he doesn’t mind.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you a real chance before now,” you say quietly, before pulling a conciliatory expression. “But to be fair, if you were any other guy, I’d be totally right about you… I still could be,” you sound as though you’re trying to convince yourself, and trial off after biting your lower lip in a distracted sort of way. Jake nods, understanding your hesitation. You weren’t to know that he cared about you more than anyone he’d met before, more than anyone ever could, but he’s also aware that there was no point to talking the big talk when it came to things like this.

“Well now, excuse me Darlin’! I didn’t work so damned hard on my exceptionally slutty past for you to just sweep it all aside for me! It’s just plain disrespectful,” Jake blusters, playing up his accent as much as he can, but still only coming out sounding half indignant. You blink in surprise at his disapproval, and quickly try to hide the sound of your snort as it escapes through another laugh, clearly taken aback and not expecting this angle from him.

“So this is what's gonna happen instead; you’re gonna make me work just as hard for this, for you, and once you’ve made yourself an honest man outta me, then we can talk about being right or wrong,” Jake states matter-of-factly, like he isn’t simultaneously pleading you for more than this, and begging you to stand your ground at the same time.

Jake’s most frequent and recurring nightmare these past months had been the idea of getting you, then losing you. He isn’t lying about working hard to have his reputation, Jake didn’t do commitment, he didn’t do more than one night, and if he did, it was never because he wanted more. He knows relationships and intimacy are the furthest thing from his forte by choice, so if he was going to get the chance to be with you, he wanted to do it properly, to do it right.

Your laughter turns softer, pulling him from his reverie. He finds you watching him, considering his words as he’d trailed off somewhere in his head while waiting for your response. There's a small twinkle in your eyes that tells him you had no plans to take it easy on him ever, but as if you know he won’t be abated by that alone, you lean in toward him, resting your chin in your palm while blinking up at him coquettishly.

“Well, you’re already on the right track, with this whole ‘saving yourself’ business. I appreciate that, off the bat,” you say, and Jake is kind of relieved, because while it wasn’t necessarily something he had to do, you weren’t an item and had turned him down four times so feelings or no, Jake wouldn’t have been in the wrong if he’d slipped up once or twice, but he’s glad that you acknowledge your approval, at least because now he knows now and feels a gust of pride inflate his chest.

“To be clear, though, I would make you work for it regardless of your past. I know what I’m worth, what I bring to a relationship, and what I want out of one, and I know those things too well just to forget them. Not for anyone.”

Jake nods vehemently, once again in complete agreement.

“Good. That’s real good, sweetheart. I don’t,” he tells you honestly, now feeling a sense of distinctly unearned pride that you were already so intune and aware of your value. He knows that for most people, including himself, that those things are only learned once they’re older. 

Your face flashes with surprise, startled by his admission of what was probably at least some basic emotional intelligence. “I’ve never wanted to know it, it wasn’t important before…” Jake trails off, and feels a sense of hesitation and regret start to poison his tongue. Was that too much? Too callous? You were aware of his colourful sexual past, but plenty of people had those. Jake had been calculated in his endeavours, and he’s suddenly ashamed, and not sure if he wants you to know that.

For a few beats you look at one another, Jake trying his best not to break eye contact, somehow hoping it will tell you all you need to know about his intentions, but after a moment, it’s you who looks away, shifting back into your position resting both arms atop the bar, where you begin fiddling with your drinks coaster.

“You know, you don’t have to be quite that honest, you can try to like, impress me still,” you say after a couple more seconds pass, and Jake lets out a shaky, anxious breath when a sideways, wry smile accompanies your words.

“Rather you be impressed by the truth than anything else,” he responds, mimicking your lean, your arms pressed against one another now, and Jake could be mistaken, but he’s almost certain that you lean some of your weight into him.

“‘M just sayin’ you don’t have to, like, abase yourself just for me to think you’re dealing fair. I already know you’re not exactly a two rodeo pony, but if you’re trying to be, that’s all I ask.” you look up at him and catch his gaze. Jake thinks over what you’ve said, not fully being able to believe it, but he wonders now if this will be just as much about proving his worthiness to himself, just as much as it was to you.

As if  he has little screens in his eyes that relay his every thought like a teleprompter, your expression softens once again, and this time Jake is sure that you’re leaning into his side, your weight falling solidly, but comfortably onto him.

“C’mon Hangman, you’re the best, aren’t you?” you tease, even nudging him playfully. “Who says you aren’t the best at this too?” you go on to ask, raising your eyebrows challengingly. Jake feels both a thrill at the slight taunt to your voice, as well as a deep affection and reverence that you know exactly how to play him already.

He picks up what you’re putting down, and lifts his chin to look down at you, one eyebrow of his own lifting in an almost condescending manner.

“Certainly not you, that's for damn sure, sweetheart.” Jake damn-near gloats, chest puffing out and pride swelling up again substantially at the way you seem to enjoy this display.

“Well then, I can’t wait to find out!” You say, knocking into his side once more with your elbow. Jake’s smile flickers more genuine, and after a moment of brief thought, he uncrosses his arms on the bar and slings his arm casually around your shoulder. You move into him almost like you’ve been waiting for him to do this, like for the past few weeks you’ve been thinking about it and what you might do if he did.

You grin up at him and Jake smiles back, lowering his face down to yours so that when he speaks again, you’re the only one in the room who can hear him

“Just promise me one thing,” Jake asks, serious as ever now. Your features crease a little, but you nod.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Never stop shooting me down. It’s kinda sexy.”

You let out a shocked, joyful laugh, even as your eyes gain a mean little sheen to them, the contrast between your sweet chortle, and the evil look on your face only making his own grin widen. Jake makes a note to bring this up in his wedding speech.

[ahundredtimesover]

Oh lord I’m giddy, squeezing my thighs in the train as I read this bc first - Commander fking Jeon! 🥵 Jk being in a position of authority with that sexiness and kindness drives me wild and other than imagining him even more built here, I could also imagine that bit of reservation and desire. All the fighter pilot talk was so hot and I absolutely love the first thing he loved about OC. It gave me the butterflies. 🥹

Like always, I enjoyed the simplicity of the way this was written but with the intricacies of the setting and the plot. I felt like I could understand the technicalities when rly, I was just thinking of Top Gun. It felt like a movie and I loved everything about this! Got me all giddy and hot (even with some heavy themes). Love OC and Jimin, too. 🥰

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

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

[hislittleraincloud]

Thinking like Enid is making my brain hurt.

I mean...I love her and all, but holy Hell, she is...that girl we all knew in high school who tried too hard. 🫠💀🔥✨

I was originally going to keep it to Enid and Yoko after Enid switched rooms, but Divina is in the scene now too. Mean Girls gotta be slightly mean. 🤷🏽‍♂️ Poor Enid 😅

ETA: I don't know why I was unaware that Murray had a name, but I wasn't (LOL). I'm a little slow. 😭😭😭😭💀 But I know for sure that Kent and Divina don't have a last name, but in this story they have a last name and a mother. Their father is dead.

[nicoleeblossom]

Multiple Characters x Reader...

main masterlist📌

*·˚Don’t forget to reblog, follow, like, and comment on the authors’ or artists’ pages. Show them some love!

*·˚Broken link or @? Pop a note in the comments or my ask box.

Works by @miniwheat77

Sizes. 141+Alejandro x Reader: Who has the biggest dick?

By Nature, She’s Naughty: Y/n was a wild one

Works by @mistydeyes

Hunk-o-mania Pt.1: The boys thought wrong, now they’re performing

Playboy Bunny Pheonix Edition Pt.2: The boys are very pleased with the solution

Opposite Occupations Pt.1: They realize that all the long hours are worth it

Take A Walk In My Shoes Pt.2: A day in your life

Almost Military Wives GC Pt.3: What goes on when the boys are deployed

Works by @sprout-fics

Afterburn: Just 6 dudes taking care of their girl

Poly 141 x Reader: It takes weeks, month for you all to put the place in order, and by the end of it all, you’re exhausted

Works by @loveindefinitely

Need To Listen To Me: that was a flaw. A genuine character fault, and Price was cementing that fact in this very room

Lust for Life: You’re suddenly all too desperate to get back at your father and experiment a thing or two

Works by @the-californicationist

They Help You Practice: You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

The Window, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7:

Works by @charliemwrites

From SpecGru With Love

Men at Work

Works by @tojisun

Nosy Neighbours

Sugar, Spice, Everything on Ice

Keeping Him Quiet

141 + König First Word Reactions by @starstruckmiraclekitty: Reactions to their babies’ first words

Be Gentle Man Pt.1 and Be Gentle Man Pt.2 by @rileyslibrary: Etiquette training

Breeding Team by @sirenmoth: AU where reader is an omega who took suppressants

Strip Poker Pt.1 by @catsnkooks: Soap’s CO brought out some cards

Cachorrita Pt.1 and Cachorrita Pt.2 Los Vaqueros x Reader by @lxstfathier: Caught in the middle of narco violence, you are taken in

Four Big Guys by @antigonusyuki: And oh, all the blood rushes to John’s cock

Civillian Asset by @cuckoo-on-a-string: There’s blood under your nails and a threat to your life

Price’s wife = the wife of 141 by @ghosts-cyphera: and you managed. of course you managed. you were price’s good little wife

Sparrow by @diejager: Their tense shoulders slouched, finally knowing where you went

Mafia!141 by @groguspicklejar:

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star by @vellichor-of-the-solivagant: Now, he made music out of you

Home is Where You Are by @1-ker0sene-1: "Taking good care of our boys John…You always do…Making sure you all come home to me again”

Cook!reader x 141 and The Assistant by @bookbrokelibrarian:

Lift Me Off My Feet by @lovifie:

Cherry Bomb by @swordsandholly

FFS Riley Collection by @dozeydaisy

Dad!141 x Mama!Reader by @baduzzxy

Mafia!141 AU, Ext. by @ghouljams

Suite 141 by @mangowafflesss

Contractors!141 by @kyletogaz

Down the Hatch by @syoddeye

Frozen Hearts Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7 by @lushrve

Can’t Stop Thinking About Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Pt.8, Pt.9, Pt.10 by @a-b-riddle

Free Use by @bzurk

Really Good Neighbours by @dragonnarrative-writes

Whole Other Notebook by @auspicioustidings

Retired!141 x Rancher!Reader by @purple-moonbeam

Lifeline by @indigosunsetao3

Ranking by @gardenthatneversleeps

You’re Only Sixteen by @siddyyyyyyyy

On The Run by @devil-in-hiding

Hair Series by @kyletogaz

Secret Baby by @gloomwitchwrites

The Office AU by @flowerfreya

Loop by @eevee-of-eternity

Restaurant Au! 141 by @disgustingtwitches

Blue-Collar!141 x Reader by @xo-codbby

Naps to Lovers by @i-love-you-just-the-same

Y/N Being Feral for Her Future Husband by @feralgoblinqueen

Mafia!141 by @cordeliawhohung

Neglected Reader by @simonbrain

Lavender Marriage Pt.1 and Pt.2 AU by @beloveds-embrace

Services/Goods of Equivalent Value by @auspicioustidings

Price Snapping by @gothghostiie

Bratty Princess Reader X Bodyguards 141 by @canyonmooncreations

If I Can't, No One Can by @hahaifolded

It Starts Playing by @hyperfixiation-station

Task Force 141 With A Smart Ass American Informant by @briarscreek

Overprotective by @moody-alcoholic

Basic Life Lessons by @nemo-writes

File Loading by @7s3ven

141’s Technical Analyst and Search History Pt.2 and Virtual Breadcrumbs Pt.3 by @notquitecanon

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

[sugaredrhubarb]

Reading with Ru: Aug/Sept Fic Recs

I know I'm certainly in need of some positivity and escapism lately, so I'm gonna try to do semi-regular fic and book recs! Starting with a retroactive what I've been reading from the past couple of months with this account! (I might go back in time and make an all-time rec list later)

COD

starting with cod because i know most of you go here

Sergeant Squeaks by @charliemwrites - (series of one-shots ghost x reader and price x reader separately) both one of my favourite reader characters and my favourite canon setting depictions of Ghost and Price. their own weird brands of showing love are wonderful; the tension leading to getting together is fantastic, and the sex is super enjoyable.

Ghost Stories by @kneelingshadowsalome - (ghost x medic!reader) I'm repeating myself, but I love Salome's writing. This is where I was first introduced to it, and I think it's really special. Ghost POV as he struggles with developing and then accepting love. felt so real and grounded. angsty and then fluffy, and you can't help but adore the reader as well.

saltwater by @ceilidho - (ghost x reader) It's pretty unlikely any of you don't know Ceil, but on the off chance you haven't given this one a read yet, it really is a must. I lump praise on her pretty regularly, but I don't know anyone who is able to portray their character's emotions as intimately as Ceil. her ghost feels really grounded in all his complexity. there is a common theme in these recs of really enjoyable reader characters, and this is not an exception; the reader feels like a full but still ambiguous character who is vulnerable and strong and really great.

don't leave me locked in your heart by @ohbo-ohno - (ghoap x reader dark!) we all know bo, we all love bo. I always love the way she depicts ghost and soap's dynamic changing and evolving to include the reader. the descent into dark territory in this is really really fun. It's also just hot and well-written! if you haven't read it before, go read it, and then go read all of bo's drabbles and asks on here. genuinely one of my favourite dark but still fun writers. I think she balances it really well.

body electric by @yeyinde and Afterburn by @sprout-fics - (141 + Los Vaqueros x reader) a classic. I've returned to these so many times. sometimes you just want to read dirty, filthy, well done, smut and then warm cozy aftercare. not to wax poetic about pure sex (except that's exactly what one should do), but I think it can be really hard to write group sex like this and still have such insightful and individual glimpses into each character and dynamic, and Lev does it wonderfully. and then it's also hard to find good aftercare fic, and Sprout's feels like literal aftercare for both the reader character and the reader.

other fandoms

tried to curate to themes i think overlap in some of the cod works! and I think most of these can be read fandom blind.

i revisited @winterrose527's fic in August, and even though she already knows how much I love her work, I won't skip a chance to repeat it. Anna writes for asoiaf and is pretty much the queen of Robb Stark/Myrcella Baratheon, but I would say the modern AUs (my favs) can be read almost completely fandom blind. Any contemporary romance enjoyer would love her work. I'm really partial to her kid/single-parent fics. I think it's so hard to get right, and I always adore reading her kid characters and how she approaches love stories when kids are involved. anna's works are always brimming with love and incredible platonic, familiar, parent-child, and romantic relationships (if kid fic isn't your thing she also has a ton of other great fics). personal favs: We Could Be a Little Something, And There They Are, All the Same

Lawless by @goldcranes - (arthur morgan x ofc) age difference, cowboy love story, essentially a romance novel. if goldcranes has no fans, I'm dead. I encourage you to explore her work; very few people write as strongly across multiple fandoms as she does, and each of her works feels like a really strong love story with special characters.

The Odyssey by @sunlightmurdock - (bradley bradshaw x reader) 1980's roman literature prof x virgin student - no need to know top gun. katie's work is another entry in the 'feels like it stands really strongly separately from the source material' category. she has multiple ongoing AU's that I really love, but this one is a favourite. i think she does complex characters really well - their actions always feel intentional, and as flawed as they are, I always love them.

Wouldn't it be Nice by allyoops - (m/f captive A/B/O) if you aren't reading original works smut on ao3 you are missing out and allyoops is a great place to start for noncon, dubcon, age gap, taboo etc. enjoyers. they have a ton of works; usually one shots with lots of really delicious dynamics and different settings and tropes.

An Intoxicating Presence by FormerlyIR - (mob a/b/o haladriel) MOB. A/B/O. HALADRIEL. picks up with Halbrand in prison thanks to undercover FBI agent (and his mate!) Galadriel. does that sound crazy and awesome? well it is. mix it with Gal's internal struggle, the added complication of omegaverse, and overall great writing. really fun and really damn good.

civitas terrena by banalityofweevil - (darklina) angel Alina on an exploration of love in immortality with fallen angel Aleks. honestly, it's just a must-read for enjoyers of writing. incredibly creative with divine (literally and figuratively) imagery. i think one of my comments was on the precision of lulu's diction and I really stand by that.

tinsel into gold by ribbonedhare - (darklina) ddlg and cnc friends, this changed me. it is so warm and soft and my god, is it good. just scrumptious.

Be My Babydoll by KittyDruthers - (darklina) ddlg dollification need I say more

check the reading with ru tag for more!

[atelierlili]

It's time take you back to the past

to play the shitty games that suck ass.

Some besties wanted a list of Everlark fics recs where Katniss and/or Peeta are blasted to the past/alternate universe to relive the events of the games to fix it, so here we are!

Time Is Never Found Again...Or Is It? (113,000 + words) by blahblahblah1703

Katniss, after talking to Snow in his rose garden, finds herself somehow back in her childhood home. She has seven months until she enters the arena for the 74th annual Hunger Games, along with the love of her life, who when she last saw him, was still struggling not to kill her, just perfect.

The pre-game everlark that happens here is 🤌. This is part one of a larger series. The sequel (which is wonderful as well) can be found here. This is the series that got me into this rabbit hole.

Afterburn ( 104,000+ words) by BlueMaple

Katniss Everdeen-Mellark goes to the woods surrounding New Appalachia, a.k.a the former District Twelve, on the morning of the fiftieth anniversary of the final Reaping of the Hunger Games. There, she is literally waylaid by her own past, and wakes in the past, six weeks before Primrose was first Reaped. Alone, grieving, terrified, and without a clue on how she got there (and then), she realizes that it will be impossible for her- on every level- to simply live through events as they transpired in her personal future. With no way to return her to that future, she is nevertheless determined to get back to her own party - hopefully with a lot less damage and fewer crucial casualties along the way.

This is apart of the All Sorrows Less series, which is still being updated. It's filled with wonderful side characters, mindblowing twists, a baby I will kill people for and GILF Katniss, what more can I say?

Second Burn ( 127,000+ words) by carnationhes

Katniss wonders if things could be different if she got a second chance. And then she gets one. This morning she wakes up back in District 12 after Peeta's warning of the bombing on Thirteen.

Have you read Second burn? Why haven't you read it yet? You should read it. It's amazing. Literally makes my brain chemistry tingle. I think this is most accurate depiction of a Katniss being blasted to the past with no meta explanation why. It's sooo soo soo good. I'm on my knees please read it and please read the sequel Ignite as well. This series is so underated please.

over and over (lost again) (13,000+ words) by TeaBrigadier

I died in the Hunger Games. It isn’t even the first time it’s happened. I’ve died in the Hunger Games five times now

This is a very self contained time loop where Katniss continuously relieves the first games until she gets it right. I know it doesn't really fit the theme, but this one makes my feel happy feelings and i wanted to recommend something that's isn't so long so I'm adding it anyway. Deathloops are fun!

Ongoing:

Catching sparks (19k words) (Last update 26 Feb 2024) by Silver_Cleo

The time when 23 year old Katniss and Peeta get transported from their home in what had once been Victor's Village of District 12, and into the bodies of their much younger selves, who have just woken up from exiting the arena of the 74th Hunger Games.

Here Katniss and Peeta get traveled to the past to the point where they just win their games. It's a great WIP. I love Everlark working together and being cute + humanizing the 74th tributes and their family <3

I'm probably missing a few, but these are my favourite ones so far. As much as I love the trope, I know it's a monster to take on from a writing standpoint so props to the writers!

I hope you enjoy them <3 There's nothing I love more than shining a light on amazing fics new and old. If you have recs of your own, please send them my way. I love this trope so much haha

@bbrooklynbabe @nightlocked-in @waywardangel-wilds

[sp00kymulderr]

part 3 - Afterburn

series masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x afab reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: 18+, cursing, details of grief, survivors guilt, dealing with emotions badly, reader is dealing with death of a loved one, general sadness, kissing, m masturbation, premature ejaculation, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving). Please let me know if I missed any.

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: “Do you remember what it’s like to be happy?”

A/N: I'm sorry it's taken so long to post. I'm really proud of this one. If you like it please please comment and/or reblog. To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist. Credit to banner/divider maker.

Joel is not the same after you return from your short shower. Your packs are waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs as he stands by the door scanning the horizon, an impatient tut leaves him.

“We gotta go, you ready?” He grunts, not even bothering to look at you.

“Joel c’mon…” You respond, your voice a little hoarse.

“Just-” Joel snaps and then sighs, finishing the rest of the sentence in a slightly softer tone “Grab your stuff. Put on your boots”

He shoulders his pack and walks out the door, waiting on the porch. You mutter your frustration. He isn’t being fair and you’re pretty sure he knows it too. You want to understand why this is such a bad thing - the two of you - but he doesn’t seem to want to even acknowledge what happened.

You sit on the sagging couch and look once more around the old house. It’s always difficult to come to these places, but somehow it’s also difficult to leave them. Someone lived here, someone loved here, someone was happy here once – you hope at least. You look around the dusty living room once more and contemplate, as you always do. What has this place seen, what kind of people called it a home? What secrets does it keep?

Those thoughts bring you to your own home too, where you’d been until the outbreak. You’d never gone back but you’d often thought of returning, seeing if anything of your old life still existed. Since you’d lost your last connection to your past.

You shake your head and pull on the new boots lacing them tight, ready to put them to the test at least. Joel is waiting for you outside when you finally make your way to him and he’s already walking, apparently sure of the direction.

You follow in silence for a while. Your feet don’t hurt as bad as before and you’re grateful for that.

“Did you ever go home, Joel?” You ask eventually, hesitant.

“Huh?” he’s only half listening to you, looking around for any signs of imminent threat.

“You ever go back to your old home?”

“No” is all he says.

You leave it at that.

The last thing Joel wants to think about is home. Home is where his broken heart is. He’d never go back there, he’d pull the memory completely from his head if he could. 

There’s a lot of memories he wishes he didn’t have to have.

And now he has a new one; his head feels so all over the place because of you and your lips, your warmth, the disquieting solace he found in you. He knows he shouldn’t punish you for any of it; for what happened, for how he feels, for how he doesn’t understand his feelings. But he’s already punishing himself for everything else that’s ever happened, so you’ll have to take the brunt of this mistake.

And it was a mistake, he knows that. You don’t want him the way you think you do. He’s sure of it. It’s not about anything more than forgetting for you, for finding some distraction from your pain. He knows it too well. He’s been there. He’s still there in a way but at least after all these years he knows better than to chase that feeling. He has to keep away, help you know better too.

“Keep up” He mutters as he looks back at you, and he knows he sounds harsh but he can’t stop himself.

That deceitful monster in him wants more. He feels it. He won’t give in to it.

When you were younger you used to run free and happy in the green garden outside your house. You would spend all your time outside, climbing trees, scaling rocks, swimming in the lake by the forest. You had a treehouse in the garden and you'd climb up to it every summer night and watch the world from up there, free and happy and something more.

Alive in more ways than just surviving.

She'd been with you even then, you'd share secrets and tell stories cuddled up in your sleeping bags in the treehouse at night together. You lived for those moments when you and your best friend would live in your own world and everything else was just background noise.

Now you're climbing trees and scaling rocks but not for the same reasons the innocent child of your past would. You have to scope out the land, find a good place to stop. Joel helps boost you up to a branch so you can climb, to check out some noise in the distance of the forest, and when you snag your shirt on a twig you have this pang of gut-wrenching muscle memory of that time she fell from the treehouse and you thought for a moment of blind panic that you'd lost her.

You hate that every single thing reminds you of her. You despise the memories for making you misty eyed and weak. The more Joel ignores you as the time goes on, the worse it gets. The more you remember, the more everything reminds you of your dead best friend and the lives you'd lost to this world of horrors. Your life next, you know. That’s all there is now.

Just you.

And Joel. 

Joel, who was pulling away more and more with every passing second. His hesitant gaze on you lands regretful and forlorn.

Eventually up in the tree you're able to see far enough to know there's a camp of people further down the forest, so when you’re back down Joel decides on a detour that leads you both far in the opposite direction not wanting to take any risks. Your new boots are finally starting to rub after hours and hours of walking - nothing good lasts forever. You wonder if the person they belonged to before you ever got to wear them, if you shared the pain of blisters from the same shoes. If the people in that house used to go hiking in this vast forest every weekend. You wonder if they are dead now too, or just trying desperately to survive. Are they trying to make it back to their home, to find the memories they’d left behind?

You'd go home. You would. If you ever could. It's too far now, too dangerous and too much to ever think you could make it there. Besides, what would you do when you got there? Hope you had anything of yours left? Let yourself drown in the pain of distant memories, of things you knew you’d never get back? But there were things, all these trinkets you wanted to hold to your heart now you have nothing else. Photos; pictures printed and framed or posted on your walls with sticky tack since you were a teenager. Family and friends and pets and all the things you have lost. The things you’d never, ever get back.

The silence consumes you and you think you’d rather wallow in your grief and misery back at the place where you were once happy, instead of being here where your longing and guilt are driving you to insanity with every ticking second. You miss talking, you miss having a friend. She was everything you ever needed in life, she was the only thing that had made you happy in the years since the world ended. You need that, and you know Joel won’t give you any of the things you need. He doesn’t want to know you any more than he has now. You can’t see past his actions back at the house and he can’t see you in any way other than shamefully anymore.

You don’t even know what to say to him now. So you just walk, and ignore the aching and misery consuming you whole.

It’s a few hours later and your feet are starting to bleed through your socks, because all good things must come to an end in this empty horror of a world. Joel finally decides it’s time to stop and make camp. It’s getting dark after all and there’s the opportunity for cover while you’re still under the protection of the vast forest - you’re nearly at the edge now. 

“This should work” he mutters more to himself than you as he looks over the spot you’ve stopped at.

He briefly glances at you and it’s nothing but it’s more than he’s given you in hours so it makes you feel a little glint of that spark from before again. What if you just kissed him again, the way he let you before? Would he stop you? You know he likely would, but it doesn’t stop you wanting to try.

Like he knows, he’s stepping further from you acting like he’s inspecting the site he’s picked. There’s nothing to inspect - it’s a patch of mossy forest floor with a large rock on one side and what looks like an ancient tree on the other. You watch him momentarily and feel that misery all over. Touch would solve it all. His touch would solve everything just like it did before. The darkness above the trees could hold a secret if he could just give you something, a tiny thing to keep your sadness at bay.

And yet you are both wordless as you set up the small camp; no fire - that would potentially draw attention and the woods are never an entirely safe place to be - just your sleeping bags set up with an arm's length between the two like he’s worried you’ll somehow get the wrong idea if he gives you even the possibility of touching him again.

“Here” He mutters when you’re both sitting down and you almost laugh with the ridiculousness of how hard he’s trying to not even give you his gaze anymore. He hands you some of the jerky that’s been wrapped in his pack for a while. It’s dry and hard.

“We got all that stuff from the house” 

“Gonna split it, when we…” He mutters without finishing his sentence.

“Oh”

When we go our separate ways. That’s what he meant and he doesn’t have to say it. He’s gonna leave you. Leave you completely alone.

“You know where you’re gonna go?” Joel asks and maybe there’s the hint of guilt in his voice but more likely you’re imagining it.

Tears prick hot in your eyes and you try to blink them away. All this time you’d done so well at not letting him see you cry; the tears from your loss and your grief had only once fallen in his sight and now you were feeling them fall down your cheeks right in front of him all because he was finally sending you on your way.

Stupid. You’re so stupid. It was only ever temporary and he’d made it so clear he didn’t want anything from you. He was just doing a sad, lost person a momentary favor but you’d lost sight of that completely after these last couple days. The way he had kissed you…the way you know it would’ve gone further yesterday if there hadn’t been an interruption…but none of it means a thing in the wake of his words.

He’s looking at you now. Of course this would be the moment he finally decides to turn those beautiful eyes back on you - you can feel the weight of his gaze on your face and you want it to be dark and lustful like before but when you look over at him he’s frowning. You sniffle and clear your throat, and finally give him an answer.

“I- I want to go home” You say so sadly and his brow knits in confusion for a moment before he understands.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Joel sounds more judgemental than he probably means to. He’s still watching you, but he never addresses the tears that are silently falling from your sad eyes.

You shake your head and sigh. Chewing on the last of the jerky for a bit and it makes you feel sick. His gaze burns you now, like it’s melting through the cold of him ignoring you all day and scorching at your flesh. Why won’t he stop staring? Why suddenly is he so intent on giving you all this attention? Does he just pity you that much?

He’s still eating slowly when you lie down on your sleeping bag, staring up at the trees and the night sky just above them. You’d spent nights like this watching the stars before - your heart pangs at the memory and you feel bile rise up in your throat for a moment before you screw your eyes shut tight enough to see the dance of colourful light behind your lids.

“Do you remember what it’s like to be happy?” Your voice is a whisper, it shakes as you shove that memory back down.

You open your eyes and turn your head in time to see Joel's sudden pained look and the shake of his head. You can feel the misery around him like it’s an aura. That only makes your heart hurt more. Damn it, why does he have to make you feel more? It’s always those eyes; he can make himself as hard and distant as he wants but his beautiful brown eyes betray him every single time

“Yeah. Well, I do. I remember. I remember living” If it wasn’t clear you were crying before it’s obvious you are now, you sniffle and wipe tears that race from the corners of your eyes into your hair.

Joel remains quiet for a while after that. Perhaps he just doesn’t know what to say, or perhaps he’s trying not to comfort you. The trees above the two of you wave gently in a breeze that rushes quietly through the forest, and the stars above them shine like they always have - unchanged by the death of this world and the screaming of your souls. Between you and Joel there is a blanket of grief and despair and both of you seem to be wrapping yourselves tighter in it at every turn.

Eventually he clears his throat and there’s a slight shift in Joel’s body, angling more towards you. It makes you bolder - like before - and you reach your hand between your two sleeping bags. Just lay it there between the two of you.

“I don’t want to remember, Joel. Not right now. I just want to feel something else” 

He rubs his watering eyes and sighs deeply. He is wavering, you can tell. He’s holding back but there’s the twitch of his hands as he looks at you lying there and he slowly reaches out - rough, calloused and warm hand encompassing yours slowly. He lets out a long breath.

“It’s not gonna help. I- I’m not gonna help you like you need. Nothing’s that simple. I should know…”

“You’re scared”

“Maybe” Joel shrugs. 

His hand holds yours a little tighter. You’re still crying silent tears that glisten on your face in the starlight.

“Don’t you feel alone? Don’t you just feel so fucking alone all the time? Why do we have to feel alone, when we’re here together?” You’re actually pleading now. It’s pathetic really but you just need the incessant heartache to stop for even a moment.

Joel hums low and gives you a long stare. His eyes soften more. There’s a shred more sympathy than there has been and it’s enough for your body to ignite with that burning hope just like last time.

“Fuck” He mutters, and then “Come here” and he is letting go of your hand and laying on his side on the sleeping bag, it seems reluctant but he’s inviting you to him and you’re almost embarrassed when you move in a heartbeat and close that gap between you and him.

Your breath catches when you lie beside him on your side and his body curls around yours, his arm over you and he holds your hand again. He’s warm like a comforting blanket - it feels almost like he’s protecting you the way he holds you close. It’s the closest you’ve ever been; even when he’d kissed you, when he’d touched you he’d kept a distance. You had never gotten to feel all of his body against you like this. Only in your hopeless dreaming. His breath tickles on the back of your neck and the warmth of it lingers, his heart beating steady where his chest presses against your back. He lets out a nearly silent sigh that makes you think he’s feeling the same thing as you. 

You are not alone.

For a while it’s nothing, and Joel starts to think you’re sleeping. Your breathing is steady just like his and those sweet little sighs could just be the slumber taking hold. You don’t move and he’s so afraid to make even the slightest change to the position lest he starts you on that downward spiral again.

He knows it’s a mistake. Such a big mistake to let you feel close to him. It is only going to make everything worse in the long run but your words ring so true in his mind - he has been so damn alone. Ever since…for too long. He’s been alone. You draw him in like a magnet; a strange and shameful comfort that he’s denied himself all these years.

Maybe it’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll just be this, nothing more and nothing less. No guilt. No attachment. Maybe you’ll leave willingly and he’ll never once think about this moment again and neither will you. Maybe. 

He murmurs your name softly and buries his face against your neck. He just wants to feel. Something. It’s wrong. He’s leading you on. But he wants to escape his loneliness just as much as you want to escape your pain.

He hears the smallest moan escape you like a breath and it makes him tighten his arm around you a little, because it brings him back to what happened before. How he’d touched you, how he’d felt you. There’s a stirring in him at the memory. You both feel it.

Joel knows you’re not asleep now, your breathing is less steady and your hand squeezes his a little.

“Don’t let me feel alone” You murmur and fuck Joel wants to let that base part of himself take control all over again.

He hesitates but only for a second. 

“I won’t”

And then he’s turning your head, and he’s kissing you.

There’s a moment of guilt that rises from your chest slowly, but it’s gone again the moment your lips meet his.

It's not like the first kiss. It's not even like the kisses in the kitchen when he'd pressed you up against the fridge and touched you. It's not like any kiss you've ever felt; it's urgent and desperate but not forceful or rough - there's a subtle tenderness behind it like he's really genuinely trying to give you that feeling of togetherness you crave so much.

It makes your mind go blank after a moment, when you feel his tongue and he’s asking for a permission which you grant without a moment of hesitation. It makes you forget where you are, who you are, what you've been through. 

He's good at that. Making you forget.

He's good at it all.

He kisses you harder when you open your mouth to him and it turns from tender to intense. It becomes more. More and more of him and you and it's what you've thought about all day. Like he really wants you. You're still on your side with your head turned and him over you, your back pressed against his chest and his subtle shift of hips against your ass makes your breath hitch. 

Oh, he wants you. And you want him. 

And what else matters?

“Joel…” you whimper. Sickly sweet and full of urgency. 

“Yeah, I know,” He says. 

There’s something else there, something you don’t want to hear. Something he doesn’t want to share. He shakes it away in a moment of a blink. He’s well versed in brushing away those moments. You need to learn it from him.

“I know” He says again, and he kisses you once more. Your lips lock in a moment that fans the flames that have been burning all this time; these weeks the two of you have been traveling together, these moments you have been sharing that are more than just moments. He stokes the coals of your desire with his mouth on yours and then down, down. To your cheek, your jaw, he’s over you and pressing you on to your back half on the cold ground as his lips meet your neck and you keen in some kind of desperation to be alight with his touch again.

Your hands traverse the broad expanse of his chest, clinging to the rough fabric of his shirt as he kisses the spot right under your ear that makes your soul leave you for a moment.

“You won’t stop this time?” You ponder, looking for a promise

“No”.

Simple, straight. Joel. He needs it. You know it’s been a while, you can tell by the way his hot mouth latches on to your soft flesh as he ruts against you like he’s already chasing a release he’s waited too long for.

“Doesn’t mean anythin’, right?”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” you repeat. 

He means it. Do you?

“Fuck” He groans, deep and guttural when your wandering hands reach lower. It’s all so urgent. There’s no moment for softness. It’s lustful and intentional and greedy. Teeth and nails and need. No moment to waste as your nimble fingers find the opening of his faded jeans and make their way inside.

He’s still exploring with demanding grunts of appreciation at the taste of your skin. He’d liked it before. He likes it more now, after the long day of toil. You’re intoxicating in all the ways he never knew how to resist.

You think he feels the same as you. It’s been so long. You can’t remember the last time you felt such intimate touch, before Joel. It’s more addicting now than it ever was back then as his fingertips dance with burning brushes against the skin under your shirt.

There are no memories. No pain. No distant threat. No trees. No breeze. No stars. Just him and you in this blank space you have created for yourselves - outside of time and reality. It is a kiss that takes away life, that takes away loneliness. His touch breathes hope into you that you’d only ever felt with…no. It’s just him and you and nothing else.

Just that.

Your fingers trace down, past where buttons are undone and the zipper is open. You touch him, a slight squeeze that makes his breath hitch so damn gorgeously you feel it in your core.

He’s big. God, he’s big and he’s hard and it’s for you. It’s for you.

He breathes out and grits his teeth as you feel him, he has to stop kissing you for a moment as you ease his pants down and free his hardened length from its confines. He’s not gonna tell you to stop. Neither of you are going to end this until it has to be ended, you know that when you look in his eyes and they are dazed with lust and desire that he’s been holding back for too long.

There’s no call for modesty here in this darkened patch of forest floor where the only sounds are the rustle of leaves and your panting breaths. He watches you with a knitted brow trying so goddamn hard to hold on to at least a bit of himself when you lewdly spit into your hand and wrap it around his thick length.

“Shit” Joel grits his teeth, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. He murmurs your name. It’s never sounded as good as it does when spoken by him like that. Your hand moves, thumb swiping his leaking tip to smear on him. He feels good in your hand, heavy and smooth and he’s already shaking.

“I…sweetheart, I can’t…”

“Yeah, you can” You shush him with your lips against his, oddly soft and caring in this moment of heady lust.

“No I mean it’s…fuck” Joel pants out, his voice a gruff whisper that tickles your skin and makes you clench “Haven’t had- I can’t fu-” words tumble from his lips to the side of your neck as he devolves into mumbles you can’t quite make out. He trembles and bites back a loud groan, before spilling warm and sticky onto your fingers.

“Sorry” He murmurs with heavy breath and it’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world from this man who has been pushing you away for what feels like eternity.

Ah, you make sense of the words now.

“Haven’t had anyone touch you in a while?” You say, biting your lip as you look at him - he takes your breath away as the moonlight catches on the glint of his eyes, the trickle of sweat down his brow. His eyes are big and brown and there’s an apology in them that you don’t need.

“It’s okay. It’s okay” You assure with a soft smile. You kiss him, a sweet peck on the lips which he returns with another. It feels almost too intimate and you know you’re falling to somewhere you can’t crawl out of.

For a beat there’s a silence; Joel zips his fly and is catching his breath after his release whilst you drag your lips from his and down to his chin then his jaw. Drowning in the scent and taste of him. He is like nothing you’ve ever known and you want to be devoured by his presence.

You’re making do with wiping your hand off on your trousers when he moves you, pressing you down on to your back fully. There’s a hunger in him. He is starved and he craves. You shiver at that; he can slip from one moment to another like a changeling. His demeanour seems to shift with the wind.

“Gonna make it up to you, darlin’” He whispers with a dark desire as he goes back to kissing your neck and his hand moves down your body and to the button of your pants. Your mind flashes back to before - the way he’d made you shake back in the house - and your cunt throbs with need for that again. For him to take away your mind and your breath and your sanity if he wants.

You need him in ways you cannot fathom.

“Oh god”  You moan as he cups you through your underwear, mouth still attacking the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. 

You’re ready to feel that way again. And you’re about to beg him not to tease you when he pulls his hand away and detaches from your neck.

“Joel” the whine is so needy you should be embarrassed but you’re not capable of feeling that at the moment.

He shushes you softly and finishes unfastening your jeans, as he kneels between your legs. And then he’s taking them off; your jeans and underwear pulled down to your ankles and off, tossed to the side. He’s a man on a mission, and he licks his lips as he nudges your legs apart further and looks down at you.

Fuck. You might come from the sight alone. God…is he going to…

Joels calloused hands slide up your thighs and to your lower stomach and he settles himself right between your spread legs. You can’t look at him down there like that.

“This okay?” He asks, holding on to your thigh with one large hand while the other slips up under your shirt to palm at your warm skin.

You have to let out a huffed laugh at that. It’s definitely okay. It’s more than okay.

“Mhm” You answer, lips pressed together and you look up at the stars instead of the beautiful man currently kissing your inner thigh. Before he had wanted nothing to do with you and now he seems to want everything with you, you’d have whiplash if your brain wasn’t slowly melting out of your ear at the feel of his lips dragging higher.

He’s taking it so. So slow. Palming your breast now and kissing the other thigh You’re going to combust and be left nothing but a pile of embers if he keeps this up. You need so deeply that it hurts.

You card your fingers through his hair. It’s surprisingly soft and the sensation adds to the tension in you. He grunts as you give a little tug, but you think he gets the message without you having to use your words, your words probably wouldn’t make sense in this moment.

“Oh!” you gasp. 

Yes, he proves that he got the message loud and clear as he’s parting you with his tongue and licking a stripe that ends at your clit and makes your eyes roll back. He’s good.

He tastes you and moans deep at it. His tongue swipes again against your clit and your grip in his hair tightens a bit again but he doesn’t seem to mind or even notice as he explores and delves deeper. He swirls against your entrance, and then presses in for a moment and you’re going to lose it completely.

The noise of your whines and whimpers increase, a muffled cry against your hand as he moves up again and sucks against your clit with a softness which quickly becomes much more fervent when you respond well. You buck your hips against his face, so he holds one strong arm across you as he continues to alternate between using his tongue and his mouth to bring you closer.

Your mind is all but scrambled with the way you feel. You haven’t had anything like this in so long and he’s fulfilling needs you had almost forgotten you had. He’s not just giving you pleasure, he’s giving you back something you thought you’d lost. He’s making you feel on fire in every way possible; burning skin on burning skin, scorching heat between your legs and deep in your belly.

You're winding, tightening, as he continues. He delves a thick finger in to you and then another as he focuses his mouth on your sensitive bud, listening to the sounds of your heavy breath and knowing he’s doing right.

“Joel…Joel you’re…yes, like that…” You moan too loud, Joel grunts against you with a light slap to the thigh. Keep it down. Even now he’s aware, does he ever really let himself go fully?

Right, you’re out in the open. It feels like you’re in a world of just you and him…you have to try and keep some kind of sanity as he makes you see the stars behind your lids. It’s almost impossible, biting your lip to try and quiet yourself.

It’s…it’s incredible. The way his tongue moves. The crook of his fingers inside you. The pressure in you when he purses his lips around your clit. Your body is too hot, alive, more alive than you’ve felt in weeks. Too alive, all at once.

“Oh god…I’m…it’s….please…” babbles of incoherence which earn you a pinch to your skin, but he doesn’t let up on his ministrations. He doesn’t give you a chance to calm down.

Suddenly, your body ignites as the tight coil in your stomach snaps and it’s like there’s no yesterday, no tomorrow. You writhe, hips bucking, Joel holding you down and continuing until the very last moment of your orgasm. You’ve come before, of course, even if not with a partner in a while you’ve known this feeling many times and yet it’s like something you’ve never fully had before. He’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

Fuck, your eyes are shut tight as you ride out the waves. Little aftershocks that make your body shiver. You can feel him - a final kiss to your clit, another to your inner right thigh and then he’s raising up, moving away from you and you can hear him catching his own breath like he nearly drowned in you.

“Jesus” You groan, limp and a mess. He breathes out a quiet, pleased laugh and you finally open your eyes and try to adjust them to see his face again. 

He’s looking at you. He’s all lines and splotches and coloured lights but he’s looking at you with something like a smile. 

Everything is blurred.

The lines are blurred. What does it mean? What does that soft kiss he places against your lips now actually mean? You feel sluggish from the climax but somehow your mind is racing still despite it. The lines are so damn blurred and it’s going to make you crazy, it’s going to make you lose it all.

“Alright?” He asks softly as he helps you put on your underwear and jeans again. Where did all his uncaring gruffness go? When will it come back and how will you live when it does?

“y-yeah…I think…yeah” You mutter dumbly. “Joel, I-”

Whatever you were going to say is cut off. He lays beside you again, arm going right around you pulling you flush against his chest. Your heart won't stop racing.

“You still feel alone?” Joel whispers in a deep grumble against your ear. You can feel it come from his chest. You shudder helplessly.

You shake your head. There’s a feeling of exhaustion from the day's movement settling in and you succumb to it swiftly, resting your head down on him and letting your breathing match to his. Letting him take you over completely.

No, you’re not lonely.

This fate is worse than loneliness.