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finelinefae · 11 months ago

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the aviator [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]

synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry is the best pilot on the Air Force base and y/n is a teacher at a nursery.

word count: 8.5k

contains: fluff, flirting, opposites attract, bad boy/good girl dynamic, Harry has a southern accent, alcohol, smoking, allusions to childhood trauma

This is part 1 of a new series that will probably have 3-ish parts !!

. . .

Offutt Air Force Base, situated in Omaha, Nebraska, housed thousands of civilians working in or connected to the military. People living in the nearby town would often hear the loud plane engines as they take off and land on the runway. They’d look out the windows of their home and see spitfires piloted by men undergoing training, executing missions, or just having a good time, even when they technically weren’t given permission.��

“Wah Hooo!” The spitfire trembled as it finally landed on solid ground. Harry braced himself for the landing, pushing himself back against his seat to stop himself from jolting around. He did his best to hide his smile and remain nonchalant as he heard the familiar voices yelp in excitement as he landed the aircraft.

He removed his helmet and pushed the canopy of the cockpit open, leaping down and getting familiar with feeling the solid ground beneath his feet after being in the air. Two figures ran up to him, flailing their arms and screeching in excitement, “Tha’s what I’m talking about!” Harry opened his arms, unable to stop himself from laughing the two men almost knocked him over as they joined in a group hug.

“You flew her like a champ, H. Never seen anything like that in my life.” Harry looked into two sets of eyes an identical colour to his own.

Standing in front of him were his two brothers, Sonny and George. All three of them were pilots in the military and had been since they left school to sign up after the War. There wasn’t too much age difference between them which was probably one of the reasons the brothers were so close. Harry was the oldest, just over a year senior to George, who happened to be taller despite being the middle child, and Sonny was the youngest.

“Yeah well, she still needs some work. One of her engine cylinders is faulty.” The three of them walked side by side towards the maintenance shed. Despite their differences in height, anyone would assume the three brothers were triplets from how similar they looked. Most people on base knew them for their signature sea-glass green eyes and their brown hair.

“Oh I’ll go and tell Ruddy, he might still be here.” Sonny ran ahead

“Oh and Sonny,” Harry called for his younger brother, “Good job.” Harry winked at his younger brother, referring to his work on the plane he had just flown. In response, Sonny straightened his shoulders and smiled feeling proud after receiving a compliment from his older brother.

Harry and George both lit a cigarette each, pausing outside the door to the warehouse to smoke together. “I opened up a letter this morning from Ma.” George exhaled, smoke escaping past his lips.

Harry tried not to show his annoyance, “Wha’d she say?” He grumbled.

“She misses us… All of us and she wants us to stop by, come visit for dinner one day maybe.” George explained.

“Is she still with that old bastard?” Harry looked up at his younger brother.

George nodded, “Last time I heard.”

“Then we’re not going, none of us are.” Harry thought back to the last time he had allowed himself and his siblings to visit his mother. It was going well in the beginning, she’d cooked them up a roast pork and engaged in conversation, until their Father came home. It wasn’t long into their visit before they left the house and Sonny had gone home with a black eye whilst Harry had to get his hand stitched up at a hospital on the journey back.

Harry had grown up in Dallas, Texas, in a tacky old house that barely stood upright just on the outside of town. Whilst his Father was out working on a ranch somewhere and getting pissed up every night, Harry would spend most of his days keeping the house together whilst tending to his younger siblings. His mother was often somewhere in the house - nobody knew exactly what she was doing, since she wasn’t exactly all there half the time - but she was there.

Every visit they made back home was a reminder as to why they had entered the military in the first place. Whenever their mother would send them a letter, it was either because she wanted something or wanted them to come home so she could ask for that same something in person. The last time Harry had bought his siblings home was the first time in years. He thought his mother would be different yet he had no idea why - she was still letting that old man walk around as if he was the one who kept the house from falling.

“Sonny and I agreed you’re picking up Elise from nursery by the way,” George smirked, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his foot.

“You and Sonny agreed that?” Harry frowned, receiving a nod from his brother, “I’ve been flying all day and y’ still want me to go pick up the baby?”

George clapped his older brother on the shoulder, “We’ve both got to help out in the warehouse this evening and besides, you’re Offutt's best pilot, I think you can handle picking up a two-year-old on the way home.”

Harry didn’t have time to argue with his brother as he stepped into the warehouse. He let out a deep sigh and took one puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. He put his flight cap on his head to cover his messy hair and straightened his aviator jacket, walking towards the nursery.

. . .

“How have you found your first day Y/N?” Midge, one of the other nursery workers asked as they stood at the sink together to wash up some of the paint pots a few of the kids had been playing with in the afternoon.

“It’s been wonderful, Midge.” Y/N grinned. Although she was tired, she also felt ecstatic to finally be working again after months of searching for a new job. She had always been good with children thanks to her older sister having a kid of her own for her to babysit now and then. So when the opportunity arose to work a well-paying job at a nursery on the military base, she couldn’t pass it up. They’d even offer her free accommodation and discounted food for groceries which was perfect considering she didn’t have much of any of those things when she was living alone.

“I expect most of the kids will be getting picked up soon,” Midge glanced at the clock, “Everyone will be returning from work.”

Y/N hadn’t expected pick up time at the nursery to be so busy but fathers and mothers bustled in to pick up their children to take them home all at once. Once the majority of the kids had been picked up, Y/N glanced around to see the mess that had been left from the day that she’d have to clean up by herself. Her shoulders dropped as she landed on a small figure, realising she wasn’t completely alone yet.

“Elise, what are you doing?” Y/N smiled at the tiny girl playing in the corner, she was picking up picture books and flicking through them as if she were actually reading them. Y/N crouched down in front of the small toddler, “Are you enjoying those?”

Elise just grinned, picking something up with her small fingers and trying to put it in her mouth. Her brown, curly ringlets were no longer in uneven bunches like they had been this morning and her overalls were covered in food and paint stains. Y/N picked up the two-year-old to place in her lap, “Shall we read something before your dad comes to get you?” Elise babbled a reply.

Halfway through their fifth book, Elise was near enough asleep on Y/N’s lap. It had already been an hour since all of the other children went home and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. Y/N carefully picked Elise up so her head was on her shoulder and it was comfy enough to sleep as she stepped towards the telephone to see if Elise’s father was coming to pick her up.

As her hand went to pick up the telephone, a voice stopped her, “Hello?” It was deep and southern and husky like he had just smoked a cigarette or two, “I’m here to pick up Elise.”

Y/N turned around, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall figure leaning casually against the door frame. He wore a brown leather aviator jacket and grey trousers, with his flight cap tucked under his arm. His piercing green eyes, similar to Elise's, met hers, framed by brown curly hair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips.

Y/N had never seen anyone like him in her entire life.

“Y-yes,” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look away from his intense gaze. She stood and walked over to where he stood by the door with Elise in his arms, “You must be Elise’s father.”

“M her brother,” He corrected.

“Excuse me?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, too busy gawking at him to actually pay attention.

“M Elise’s brother, one out of three of her brothers to be exact.” He repeated, his eyes glancing at the sleeping girl Y/N was holding.

“O-oh,” She blushed, “My bad, you look so similar I thought you were her father.”

“Easy mistake,” Harry smirked, “Would you like me to take her from you?”

“Yes, of course,” Y/N gently removed Elise from her and passed her to Harry.

“There we go,” He cooed as Elise whimpered at the sudden movement, “There’s m’ little Elise.”

Y/N thought her ovaries might explode as she watched the pilot interact with the small girl in his arms, making sure she was comfortable enough so she could remain asleep. “Are you new here ma’am?” Harry spoke his focus now back on Y/N.

“Yes actually, today’s my first day here,” She explained.

“No wonder, I ain’t ever seen y’ around the place. How’re you liking it so far?”

“I’ve only been here a couple of days but it’s been nice. Working here at the nursery has been lovely too,”

“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curled, “I hope this one hasn’t been giving y’ much trouble. She can be a little devil with my younger brothers.”

Y/N immediately shook her head, “No, she’s been lovely honestly. Think I spent most of the day with Elise out of all the other children.”

Y/N noticed how Harry focused on her face as she spoke to him, every now and then his eyes would dart to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes, “Y got any friends here?”

She paused, “Any friends?”

“Yeah, you know,” He half smiled, it felt almost flirty but maybe Y/N was just imagining it, “People y’ like to hang out with.”

“Uh yeah, I share a house with a few of the girls who work in various places around the base. I get along with most of them and the ladies who work here at the nursery too.” Y/N explained, cringing at how awkward she was and how she’d probably be replaying this conversation back later only to die of embarrassment of all the things she said.

“Y’ know there’s a dance down at the community centre this Friday, y’ should come, oh and invite some of those friends of yours too.”

“Oh I don’t know, I think I’m working this Friday and-”

“A lot of my buddies who I fly with go there sometimes - a good time they said. It might be a good chance to meet some of the people here,” He shrugged, “Could offer y’ a dance or two if you’d like.”

Y/N wondered if all this was really happening right now or if she was just so tired that she was hallucinating, “O-okay,”

Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Well alright then,”

“Alright then,” Y/N tried to keep her smile at bay as she took it as his queue to leave. She kept the door open so he could easily step out as he walked backwards with Elise in his arms and his eyes still on Y/N even as he said nothing.

“So I’ll see y’ at the dance?”

“Maybe,” Y/N shrugged, even though she had already decided she was most definitely going to the dance.

“Alright, maybe I’ll see y’ at the dance then,” Harry responded with a light, amused chuckle.

Y/N watched as he turned his back and began to walk down the dirt road until he stopped briefly and spun around, “I didn’t catch y’name by the way,” He called out to her.

Y/N cupped her mouth, “It’s Y/N,”

“Y/N,” He said the name like he was testing how it sounded, “M Harry. Hey, I better see y’ at that dance Y/N, I don’t handle rejection all that well.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can believe that,” She yelled back.

“I’d say goodbye but I wanna see y’ at that dance so I’ll say goodnight instead.” Harry said with a casual salute before turning and continuing down the road.

Y/N shut the door and leaned against it, clutching her hands over her chest in complete disbelief. Her sister had warned her the pilots on the base would be young men near enough her own age and that she ought to be careful hanging around them. However, her sister hadn’t warned her that a man like Harry would stumble over to her workplace to pick up his sister and invite her to a dance on Friday night.

Y/N quickly cleaned up the nursery, shoving things into boxes and wiping down the tables, before grabbing her coat and running down the road to her house.

On every street on the housing estate, there was a row of houses that all looked the same but were owned by different types of people. Some had big families all living under one roof, others were men who lived alone. Y/N’s house was the first house on the street. It was a traditionally designed home with a pitched roof, a small front porch and symmetrical windows. She shared it with three other girls who all worked different jobs across the Air Force base.

The sun had already set by the time she entered the house. All the lights were turned on and the gentle music of Buddy Holly sounded from the living room. Y/N kicked off her heels and hung up her coat, walking to the living room where Patsy and Molly were lounging on the couch. Molly had Patsy’s foot in her lap as she painted her toenails a wine red.

Y/N collapsed on the couch next to Molly, “What’s wrong? Work not go so well?” Molly inquired.

“No,” Y/N huffed, resting her head on Molly’s shoulder, “It was wonderful.”

“Well, what’s got you so blue Peggy Sue,” Patsy questioned, her tone playful. She was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette.

“A man came into work after everybody left to pick up one of the girls, Elise.” Y/N clarified.

“You mean Elise Styles?” Molly asked.

Y/N sat up, “Yes, you know her?”

“Just about every woman on this base knows her. She’s the Styles’ little sister.” Molly explained, “We’ve all had to babysit her at least once for those brothers.”

“Yeah and neither of us will be doing it again,” Patsy piped up, as if reminding Molly.

“Oh, you must know Harry then,” Molly paused, shoving Patsy’s foot off of her lap and turning to face Y/N.

“Is he the man you’re sighing over?” Patsy’s magazine fell to the floor as she too stopped to listen.

Y/N furrowed her brows, confused by their reaction, “Y-yes, what about him?”

“What about him?” Molly stood, grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lighting it up, “Y/N you oughta be careful around all three of those brothers but especially Harry.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N glanced at Patsy who nodded in agreement with Molly.

“That boy is not good news. He’s Offutt’s best pilot and he thinks that gives him the right to go around sniffing out every woman that steps foot onto this base.” Y/N frowns, watching as Molly begins to pace back and forth, “He didn’t ask you to go out with him did he?”

“Well he asked me to the dance on Friday. The one at the community centre.”

“Oh, I bet he did!’ Molly exclaimed, “Listen Y/N, I’m telling you this because I don’t want any trouble for you. That boy is no good, he’s slept with half the ladies residing here and even the wives too I bet! He asked Patsy to go out to dinner with him one night and stood her up to go see another woman.”

Y/N glanced at Patsy, “He was flirting with two different women inbetween the moment he asked and our date a week later.” She added.

“That’s right. Y/N darlin’, we shoulda warned y’ before y’ stepped foot out of this house this morning. Those Styles brothers will mess you around and leave y’ lonely for sport. You’re too nice to deserve all of that.”

Y/N's shoulders slumped, “But he seemed so… nice.” Y/N pictured Harry with Elise and how gentle he was with her.

“He’s not a bad person Y/N but when it comes to women, there’s no guessing what that man turns into.”

“Everyone’s heard plenty of things about why they came here too. If you ask me, his home wasn’t exactly a perfect example to him.” Patsy said.

“Well, whatever reason, best stay away from him.” Molly finished.

Y/N heaved a sigh, “So I shouldn’t go to the dance on Friday?”

“Oh no, we’ll go to the dance. Harry’s not the only fine, young pilot on base I’ll tell you that.” Molly smirked and Patsy cheered with excitement at the thought of going out Friday night.

Y/N attempted to smile, but she couldn't shake off the sadness upon realising that the man she had met earlier in the evening wasn't as kind as she had initially believed. Molly fell back onto the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, “Cheer up sweet cheeks. I’m sure plenty of men will want to take you out after this dance.”

Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for Molly's comforting presence. "Thanks, Molly," she murmured, leaning into her friend's embrace.

"Yeah, plenty of fish in the sea, darlin'. You'll find one that's worth your time." Patsy chimed in.

Feeling a bit more reassured by her friends' words, Y/N nodded. "You're right. I can’t let one bad apple ruin my night."

Molly squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "That's the spirit! Now let's focus on having a great time at the dance. We can tell you about some of the other fellas who live here too."

With her friends' support, Y/N felt an inkling of hope return. She might have been disappointed by one man, but she wasn't about to let it dampen her spirits for the rest of the evening. She was glad she told her friends about her interaction with Harry and now she was left with one rule stitched into the back of her mind.

Keep away from Harry Styles.

. . .

The night sky was clear enough to see the stars glittering against the pitch-black backdrop. A soft, gentle breeze flowed through the air as Harry lay back on the swinging chair on the front porch of the house he shared with his three brothers.

This was his favourite time of day when it was completely silent and the air was cool and crisp. He didn’t like the nights so much when he was living with his parents. After midnight, or sometimes just before, his father would come in through the backdoor stinking the place up with alcohol and waking everyone up with his nightly rampages.

Nowadays, the nighttime was the most relaxing part of the day and Harry savoured every second of it. He often finds himself sat out on the porch after putting Elise to bed. He’d smoke a cigarette or two, and maybe play his guitar a little bit.

Tonight felt a little different though. Whilst his brothers were upstairs trying to put a fussy Elise to bed after she’d napped when he brought her home from nursery, he came outside and could think of nothing but the woman he found holding his little sister in her arms.

Harry knew everyone on base the same way they knew him. He recognised faces easily and had at least one brief encounter with everyone he met in passing. However, the face he had met for the first time this evening was unfamiliar and new.

Her features were delicate and angelic, with large doe eyes that held a hint of shyness to them. A soft, rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her lips were full and plush that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Her movements were gentle and her voice was airy and sweet, Harry thought of her stuttering and the way she’d blush whenever she spoke. He hadn’t seen anything like her in his life - he wasn’t a religious or spiritual person but, at that moment, he was pretty sure an angel had landed right in front of his very eyes.

Even her name sounded as though it came from some kind of mythical text - one full of beauty and purity, love and light.

Harry wasn’t the purist of men, far from it. He had slept in the beds of women he couldn’t remember the name of and indulged in his fair share of reckless behaviour. But in the presence of Y/N, he felt an unfamiliar stirring within him, a sense of longing tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t so sure he was ready to find out yet.

He lit a cigarette with a matchstick and exhaled into the air, tendrils of smoke dancing above him. The sound of footsteps thudding inside of the house as someone walked downstairs, broke the silence he had been basking in.

The door swung open and George stepped out, “Finally managed to get Elise to settle down though it took a whole round of nursery rhymes. Sonny’s still up there now, he’s afraid she’ll wake up again if he stops singing.” George took a cigarette from the pack Harry had in his pocket, “I thought you told those ladies at the nursery not to let her nap before she comes home.”

“I did,” Harry spoke, his voice husky.

“What? They didn’t listen to y’?” George chuckled.

“There’s a new worker. I’ll let her know next time I see her.” Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Y/N that Elise wasn’t allowed to sleep so late in the afternoon because it was harder to get her to go to bed at night. He didn’t seem to have the heart to as he watched her hold the small girl in her arms.

George scoffed, “A new worker? Is she a knockout at least?”

Harry didn’t reply, instead asking, “What do y’ think about the three of us going to the dance at the Community Centre on Friday?”

George laughed until he realised his brother wasn’t laughing with him, “You’re serious?”

The door swung open again and out stepped Sonny, “I swear if that baby wakes up, you two can sit in there and dance circles around her singing Miss Muffet for all I care. I ain’t doing that again.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “Can y’ pass me a cigarette, George?”

George handed the cigarette to Sonny, “Hey Sonny, Harry wants to know if we’ll go to the dance at the Community Centre this Friday.”

Sonny chuckled but that quickly went away, “Oh shit really?”

“Yeah tha’s what I thought,” George said.

“You got your eye on someone Harry?” Sonny spoke, “Is it that girl from the med centre? She sure is something.”

Harry sat up and turned to face his two brothers, “No, it’s not that,” He lied, “Jus’ thought we could go do something other than sit around and drink at the bar.”

“But the dance?” Sonny quirked a brow, “You hate dances.”

“I never said that,” Harry said, even though he always made it known how much he hated the dances they held every Friday night.

“No, I definitely think I remember y’ saying dances were for people who wanted to get laid but couldn’t,” George spoke, backing up his younger brother who nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” Harry held his hands up, “Alright maybe I did say that. C’mon, what are you, Gunther and Francis? Sit down the pair of you.” They followed their older brother's orders, sitting on the seats opposite him. “Maybe there is a girl.” He sighed.

“Oh yeah?” Sonny smirked.

“Yeah, little shit,” Harry chuckled, “So if you could both do me a favour and get yourselves cleaned up Friday night because we’re going to a shitty dance and I won’t be having either of y’ covered in grease and soot.”

“Okay, alright, H.” George took a puff of his cigarette, “But you’re paying for drinks after.” Harry shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle.

. . .

Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror when Friday night rolled around. She had left the nursery in a hurry, needing as much time as possible to get ready for the dance at the Community Centre. She had been wracked with nerves all week, knowing there was a high chance she would see Harry there and she’d have to do her best to ignore him like Molly had told her to.

She had picked out her outfit the night before. It was one of her best dresses- a lovely duck egg blue, satin fabric with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her decolletage. From the waist, the skirt flowed down in a full, flared A-line silhouette, gently swaying with every step. She wore white low heels on her feet and decided to carry a small purse with her too.

Most of her time in the evening was spent on her hair and makeup. Y/N had almost used an entire can of hairspray to ensure her hair would stay intact the whole night. Molly had even given her a French manicure the night before and she spent the whole day at the nursery trying her best not to ruin her perfectly shaped nails.

It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into going somewhere and it was all for a measly dance. There would be many other pretty girls who had spent more or less time on dressing up who probably had a better chance of catching the eye of a man than Y/N did. Yet she wasn’t hoping for the attention of just any man.

Even though Molly and Patsy had warned her of Harry’s nature, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled and the sound of his voice as he spoke in that deep, southern drawl. Every time she thought of going to the dance, he would appear in her mind. Maybe she didn’t necessarily want anything from him but she wanted to at least catch his eye enough to make a lasting impression on him.

Y/N applied a little more powder to her nose and did one final check in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, “This will have to do,” She muttered, grabbing her purse.

Patsy and Molly were already downstairs drinking margaritas and listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player. “Oh and another one comes to join us,” Molly grinned, wearing a navy, spotty dress with a red belt wrapped around her small waist.

“What took you so long?” Patsy grinned, pouring a drink in a martini glass and handing it to Y/N.

“O-oh no thank you, I don’t drink.” Y/N shook her head and forced a smile out of politeness.

“What? You don’t?” Patsy replied like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Oh c’mon! Just one little sip - liquid courage and all that.” Molly took the glass from Patsy to give to Y/N who forced herself to take it from her. She held the glass to her lips, taking one small sip and feeling a tiny burn from the alcohol.

“Good right?” Molly smirked, lighting a cigarette and holding the packet open to Y/N.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke either.” Y/N laughs nervously.

“Fair enough,” Molly shrugs, passing the pack over to Patsy who happily takes one for herself.

Y/N places her drink on the table, knowing she won’t be touching it again. “We’ll be heading out in a moment, we’re just waiting on one more.” As if she could hear them talking about her, footsteps thumped down the stairs and into the living room.

Y/N’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the tall, blonde standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline that showed off her bust and a tight waistline that accentuated her curves. The strands of her golden, blonde hair were tied back into a high ponytail with her fringe perfectly curled. She wore red lipstick on her plump lips which made the blue in her eyes even brighter than they already were.

“You’ve been in your room for hours, Nancy,” Patsy whined.

“Yes well, I don’t just plan on getting wasted tonight Patsy.” Nancy retorted.

Nancy was Y/N's other housemate, but Y/N didn't know her as well as she knew Patsy and Molly. Even though they lived together, Nancy seemed a bit distant compared to the latter two, who were friendly and nice. Nancy would smile politely, but she didn't say much else. Oftentimes, Y/N would get a strange feeling about Nancy like how she would make little comments that seemed to be jabs masked by forced politeness or how sometimes it felt like Nancy enjoyed pointing out Y/N's mistakes, like how she did her laundry or what groceries she bought. She wasn’t sure what she had done to upset Nancy but Y/N hoped it was just her over-thinking that made her believe she was this way and that tonight would allow them to get to know each other a little better.

Nancy’s eyes fell on Y/N and looked her up and down, “Nice dress,” She said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

“Thank you,” Y/N offered her a smile but received nothing in return.

“Alright ladies,” Molly stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s go catch us a few good men.”

“A few?” Patsy giggled.

“You’re right, I think a few is a little too much for this place.” Molly huffed and led the way out of the house and towards the community centre.

Y/N could hear the live music coming from the centre as they walked down the street. Patsy and Molly were stumbling ahead, arms linked together as they laughed side by side. Y/N tried not to laugh at her friends as she walked alongside Nancy.

“You planning on hooking up with anybody tonight?” Nancy’s voice broke the silence between them.

“No I don’t think so,” Y/N replies.

Nancy scoffs, “These dances are mostly for that you know, better prepare yourself when a fella tries to talk to you.”

“You think they’ll want to?” Y/N asked, hopeful.

Nancy glanced at her, “I’m sure they’ll snatch you right up those pilot boys.”

Y/N blushes, “Is there anyone you’ve got your eyes on tonight Nancy?” She liked this, conversing with Nancy. She hoped this would be the start of breaking the ice between them and maybe they could become friends eventually, or at least build acquaintances.

Nancy smirks, “Only one.” She said nothing after that.

The girls walked into the community centre which was already full of people from all over the airbase. A live band was playing Elvis Presley songs, the music blaring into Y/N’s ears once they stepped inside. “Any of you girls want a drink-”

“Molly is that Everett?” Patsy pointed to a man in the corner, talking to a woman.

Molly’s face scrunched up, “I guess he’s back from Italy.”

Nancy interrupted the conversation, her eyes darting across the room like she was searching for somebody, “You girls grab something to drink, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Who’s Everett?” Y/N asked Patsy as they walked towards the drinks table.

“A guy Molly had a thing with last year,” Patsy explained.

“Yeah until he told me he was going to Italy for a year and wanted to break things off so he could get laid by an Italian woman.” Molly ranted, leading the girls to the drinks table.

A bowl of punch resided in the centre of the table, Molly grabbed the ladle and poured them all a drink. Y/N took a sip and allowed her eyes to scan the room. Couples were dancing in the centre whilst others spoke in groups off to the side.

Eventually, her eyes caught sight of a group of men walking through the door. Each one of them was dressed in a similar uniform, a navy blue tailored jacket and matching, fitted trousers. She watched as an entire group of them continued to flood in through the doors until the last man stepped through.

He was wearing the same uniform as the others and his hair was gelled back with one curl falling in front of his forehead, unlike the messy curls she had seen when they first met. Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he weaved through the crowd and interacted with people as he walked past them. Everyone seemed to know him from the looks of it. He exuded confidence and bravado, people’s faces lighting up whenever he stopped to talk to them.

“Patsy?” One of the boys spoke.

“Here we go,” Molly muttered, forcing a smile.

A man with features that looked similar to the man Y/N had been eyeing, walked up to them with a taller man following him. “Hi Sonny,” Patsy greeted.

“Y’ sure know how to make yourself look good when you want to,” He winked, eyeing her up and down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patsy put both her hands on her waist.

“You know what I mean,” Sonny argued, realising he might have said something to offend her even though he had no idea what that might be.

“Hi,” The taller man behind him spoke. Y/N looked up and was met with familiar green eyes except they were a little bit lighter than the ones she had seen.

“Hi,” Y/N blushed.

“I’m George. Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” He wondered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the crowd as he spoke.

“Y-Yes, I arrived recently actually. I just started working at the nursery.” She clarified.

“Oh, the nursery! You must know my little sister Elise.” Y/N’s lips turned upwards thinking of the little girl she had been spending so much time with over the last few days. Since her first day, Elise had constantly been wanting her attention whether it was to nap or play with things or read books. “You must have met my older brother then.”

“Older brother?” Y/N didn’t have enough time to register as George glanced around the room and called out his brother’s name.

“Harry, c’mere!” He called.

Harry’s head turned towards them in the middle of his conversation. His eyes landed on his brother until they found hers. He offered a small smile and began to walk towards them with a drink already in his hand, “This is one of the new workers at Elise’s nursery.” George introduced even though he didn’t really need to.

“Yes, we’ve already met,” Harry said and Y/N thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sound of his voice. “Hi there,”

“Hello,” Y/N smiled, shyly.

“So you came?” He teased.

“I did.” She laughed, lightly.

“And these are y’ friends?” He looked to Patsy and Molly who were bickering with Sonny who seemed to have said something else to offend them, George now joining in on the argument as he let Harry and Y/N talk.

“Yeah, they’re my friends,” Y/N said, feeling nervous under his gaze. But despite her nerves, she couldn't deny the thrill of being the focus of his attention.

“Good to know,” He murmured, “Y come here with anyone else?”

"Um, no, just the girls from my house," Y/N stuttered, feeling a rush of nerves as Harry's gaze lingered on her. "I don't know that many people. Other than the girls I live with and the ones from the nursery, who are all lovely, by the way," she added, her words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her flustered state. "You know me too," he stated, his tone playful as he leaned in closer.

Y/N gulped the air she breathed just as the lights in the centre dimmed. The fast-paced music began to slow down and couples gathered to the dance floor to slow dance together. “Y wanna dance with me Y/N?” Harry asked.

“I-I’m not very good at it,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. It was impossible to resist the charm that radiated from him.

He held out the palm of his hand and Y/N’s lips parted as she glanced down at it, “S just swaying tha’s all. Think y’ can do that?”

Y/N hesitantly nodded, her pulse quickening as Harry's long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. A tingling sensation danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise in response to his touch. He led her to the centre of the dancefloor and turned around so they were face to face. Harry took both of Y/N's hands in his own, his touch sending electric currents coursing through her veins. With a tender yet confident touch, he trailed his fingers down her arms, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. As his hands settled at her waist, Y/N's breath turned shallow, her heart racing as the music floated through the air.

She was stiff at first, unable to relax until he leant forward and whispered, “Relax birdy,” She felt his breath against her neck as he spoke. He squeezed her waist a little and she dropped her shoulders, trying her best to loosen up under the circumstances.

“Birdy?” Y/N spoke, questioning the new nickname.

“I spotted y’ as soon as I stepped through the door. Your dress is blue ‘n it reminded me of the bluebirds I used to see back home whenever I’d go up in the mountains with my grandpa.” He explained.

“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”

“I searched for y’ as soon as I walked in. I only came because of you, if I couldn’t find y’ I’d probably just turn back and go to a bar or something.” He chuckled and Y/N laughed with him.

“No Elise?” She questioned, unable to stop herself from asking about the little girl she had become fond of.

“Elise is staying with the family next door. Little rascal tried to get ketchup on my uniform,” He rolled his eyes, “I got a free house if that’s what you’re implying though.”

Y/N’s face turned beat red, “N-No that’s not what I’m implying at all.”

“M just messin’” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N relaxed, composing herself and trying to pull herself together, “I’ve heard things about you, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked, “What things?”

“Just things.” Y/N felt his fingertips press her skin for a moment.

“And do you believe these things?” Harry murmured, leaning in a little closer.

Y/N looked him in the eye, trying to see if she could read him without having to ask him a thousand questions, “I don’t know yet.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sudden change in music and the lights turning on above them. People cheered as they gathered back into big groups and began dancing again. Harry bit back a grin, shaking his head, “Y wanna come outside with me?” He asked, shouting over the loud music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her through the crowd of people.

The air was cold once they stepped outside. Harry led her over to a small bench nearby where fewer people were gathered. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her the pack, “Oh no thank you, I don’t smoke.” She declined, politely.

Harry smiled around his cigarette, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a beat or two as he casually slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. The air between them was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of music drifting from inside the centre. Sensing Y/N's slight shiver, Harry swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without saying a word.

"But you'll get cold," Y/N protested, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Don't y’ worry about me. I don't get cold," Harry quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shrugged off her concern. His white t-shirt revealed toned arms adorned with a few tattoos littering his tanned skin.

As Harry tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night air, Y/N couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with effortless confidence. Gathering her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation.

"Were those your brothers back there?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Yeah, Sonny and George," Harry confirmed with a hint of pride in his voice.

"They look so much like you," Y/N remarked, her curiosity piqued.

"Strong genes, I suppose," Harry shrugged, his tone becoming more serious as he opened up about his family background.

"What about you? Do you have any siblings?" He inquired.

"Just an older sister and my little niece, Rosie Jean," Y/N replied, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought of her family.

"And your parents?" Harry pressed, his gaze intense as he studied her reaction.

"My parents are doctors, they work at a surgery in town," Y/N explained, feeling a pang of homesickness as she reminisced about her upbringing.

"And yours?" She prompted, turning the conversation back to Harry.

"M parents are nobodies," Harry's voice took on a sombre tone, clearly his family life was a sensitive topic. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N chose her next words carefully.

"What about Elise?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood with talk of his sister.

"Elise is better off being raised by us three than being left alone in a house with batshit crazy," Harry scoffed, his protective instincts kicking in.

Feeling the weight of their conversation, Y/N searched for a way to lift Harry's spirits. "What made you want to be a pilot?" she asked, genuinely interested.

“Sonny came home wanting to sign up for cadet training after they visited his school. He came home running through the doors with a flyer in his hand and told everybody he was going into the army. I told him ‘No brother of mine is going anywhere that requires trench foot and guns.’ He didn’t talk to me for a week after that. It wasn’t until I found an advertisement where y’ could train to fly planes when I decided I was gonna make a better life for myself and my siblings. It just so happened Sonny and George wouldn’t let me go at it alone.” He inhaled his cigarette before tossing it to the ground.

As Harry shared the story of how he and his brothers found their way to Offutt, Y/N couldn't help but admire his determination. She found herself drawn to him even more, captivated by his strength and the way he always included his brother’s in everything he spoke about.

A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Harry smoothly slid his hand next to hers, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her.

"Have I told y’ how beautiful y’look tonight?" Harry's voice was soft, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her heart race.

Y/N blushed at his compliment, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "You're lying," she protested, feeling a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks.

"I swear it," Harry insisted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Swear on m’ life, birdy."

Y/N's heart fluttered at the nickname, a secret thrill running through her as she turned to face him. His eyes held a tenderness that melted her defences, and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Hi, birdy," Harry murmured, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he leaned in closer.

"Hi, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she savoured the moment.

Harry's shoulders dropped and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he seemed to be fighting to contain it. “I can’t lie to y’ birdy, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words. “I was gonna lie and tell y’ I’d been thinking about it since I saw you tonight but… quite honestly, I think I've been dreaming of y’ since I met y’ the other day.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she felt as though someone had put a zipper straight across her mouth and she couldn’t get it to open. All she could feel was every muscle in her body beating against her skin as though they were trying to force her to surge forward and kiss him herself. “Y-You can if you want,” She stuttered, cheeks pink.

Harry laughed, “What about if you want? Can’t go kissin’ y’ if y’ don’t want it birdy.”

“I do want it,” Y/N nodded.

“Yeah?” He spoke but it came out more like a whisper.

“Yeah.” Y/N gulped, feeling nervous.

Harry didn’t hesitate once the word had left her mouth. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, soft and exploratory. Y/N's heart fluttered as she melted into the warmth of Harry's embrace, her senses flooded with the taste of his lips and the scent of his cedarwood cologne.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their kisses deepening with each passing second. Harry's arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her as close to him as possible.

In that instant, everything else faded away—the noise of the party, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of their first kiss.

They were both breathless as they pulled apart. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry already looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion and intense desire. She noticed his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip and she couldn’t help but giggle when she noticed the red lipstick stain she had left on his mouth from her kiss.

“Where abouts do you live?” Harry murmured.

“Clemon Street,” Y/N spoke, her voice coming out a whisper.

“Yeah? That’s on my way home,” He grinned.

“Oh really?” Y/N bit back a laugh, “I thought y’ lived on Newark Street - it said so in Elise’s file.”

Harry shrugged, “I like to go the long way round.” Y/N didn’t bother pulling him up on the fact that the two streets were on opposite ends of the housing estate.

“Can I walk y’ home?” He asked, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress.

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip, “Yeah I’d like that.”

Harry grinned, “Well alright then.”

They stood up, Y/N keeping his jacket around her shoulders since it was still cold out, “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom,” She motioned towards the community centre.

“I’ll wait for y’ at the door,” He said, following her as they walked to the community centre side by side. Y/N walked up to the steps and opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still there- that he was real and not just someone she dreamt up.

Harry caught her eye, “M not going anywhere birdy,” he winked, “hurry up so I can walk y’ home and kiss y’ again.”

Y/N laughed and hurried straight to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the cubicle door behind her and sank down onto the lid of the toilet seat, a wide grin spreading across her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a delighted squeal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the moment she had just shared.

She pulled out the pocket mirror from her bag and quickly reapplied the lipstick that had been smeared off. She fluffed up her hair with her hands and rubbed her aching cheeks from where had been smiling so much. She stood up and held Harry’s coat in her arms. As Y/N stepped outside the community centre, she scanned the area in search of Harry, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waiting for her. Her anticipation turned to disappointment when she couldn't spot him anywhere, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. Just as she was about to turn away, a figure caught her eye—a silhouette that had a striking resemblance to Harry—standing in a shadowy corner illuminated by the lights from the community centre.

Heart fluttering with excitement, Y/N smiled and took a step forward, eager to walk home with him. However, her joy quickly turned to dismay when she realised he wasn't alone.

A sudden giggle pierced the air, causing Y/N's heart to sink. Molly's warning appeared typed out in big letters at the forefront of her mind, filling her with regret and dread as she hesitated, frozen in place. With each step she took closer, the scene before her unfolded—it was Nancy, her housemate, clinging to the man she had just kissed.

I imagine George to be Callum Turner and Sonny to be Timothee Chalamet specifically from ms stevens but you can imagine whoever you’d like ! <;33

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ilovekittycats2 · 13 days ago

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High Maintenance

Jake Seresin x reader

(use of y/n)

In which,

Hangman keeps breaking his jet, and you’re not sure if fixing it or dealing with him is more exhausting

or,

one act of recklessness makes you realise that there may be more to Jake Seresin than meets the eye.

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Jake “Hangman” Seresin was good at a lot of things—flying jets, making cocky comebacks, and driving people absolutely insane. Unfortunately for you, as the Navy’s top mechanic, his messes always landed squarely on your plate. “You fly like you’re trying to piss me off, Seresin,” you snapped, tossing a grease-streaked rag onto the workbench.

Hangman leaned against the side of his F/A-18 with his signature smirk. “I fly like I’m the best, sweetheart. It’s not my fault if your tools can’t keep up.” Sweetheart. That nickname alone was enough to make your blood boil. “If you’re the best, why do you spend so much time breaking your jet?” His grin widened. “Because I know you’ll fix it.”

This was your dynamic—a constant battle of wits with an undercurrent of tension neither of you acknowledged. Hangman was insufferable, arrogant, and way too charming for his own good. Worse, you hated how your pulse raced when he leaned a little too close or shot you that lopsided grin.

Keep it together, Y/n.

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The call came through like a punch to the gut: Jake Seresin’s bird was in trouble. You’d been elbow-deep in another jet’s maintenance when the commotion started, and the urgency in the tower’s tone made your stomach knot. Hangman might have been the cockiest pilot in the squadron, but he was still one of yours—and whether you admitted it or not, that mattered.

You ran to the runway just as his F/A-18 skidded to a stop in a haze of smoke and screeching metal. The landing gear barely held, and the right engine let out a sickening hiss as flames licked at the exhaust. When the canopy opened, Jake climbed out slower than usual, his movements careful, deliberate. For the first time, he looked... human.

“You okay?” you barked as you closed the distance between you.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Engine failure. It cut out at altitude, but I managed to bring her in.” His voice was steady, but his hands betrayed him, trembling ever so slightly.

You studied him for a beat longer than necessary, searching for any cracks in the façade. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “Let me worry about your jet,” you said, pulling your gaze away. “Just... don’t touch anything.”

The hours that followed were grueling. You stayed on your feet, wrench in hand, sweat dripping down your temple as you fought to diagnose the failure. Jake didn’t leave, hovering just outside your workspace like a restless ghost. He wasn’t offering quips or trying to charm his way into a response this time; he was just there, quiet and watchful.

“Why are you still here?” you asked finally, not looking up from the engine bay.

He hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “Didn’t feel right leaving her—and you—like this.” The confession made you pause. For a moment, you just stared at the mess of wires and metal in front of you, trying to ignore the strange warmth curling in your chest. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone even, “if you’re staying, make yourself useful. Hand me the wrench.”

To your surprise, he did.

When the jet finally roared back to life in the early hours of the morning, you stepped back, exhaustion tugging at every muscle. Jake, who had barely moved from his spot all night, let out a breath of relief that mirrored your own. “Thanks for saving my ass,” he said, and this time, there wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm in his tone.

You turned to him, wiping grease off your hands onto a rag. “Don’t get used to it,” you said, but the sharp edge in your voice was missing.

Jake smiled—small, tentative, and not at all like the cocky grins he usually threw your way. As he walked off into the dawn light, you found yourself watching him longer than you should have, wondering what it meant that Jake Seresin, for once, wasn’t acting like Jake Seresin.

And why it made your chest feel so strange.

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hey guysssss once again sorry this is bad but i really wanted to write so idk....... lmk if you want a part 2 and send reqs!!!! pls!!!

#jake hangman fic #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake headcanons #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #hangman x reader

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graceandopulence · 1 year ago

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#black girl luxury #black femininity #high maintenance #black women in luxury #femininity #level up #black women in leisure #feminine #leveling up #moodboard #naomi campbell #Gemini women #90s it girl #90s fashion #90s runway #90s icons #90s supermodels #90s black women #black luxury

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bahablastplz · 5 months ago

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Resident Advisor: Changbin x Reader

Changbin is your R.A. and also your friend that you’ve been in the talking stage with for weeks. When he has to do room checks and he finds alcohol in your dorm, you tell him you’ll do anything for him not to snitch on you.

content: smut, fluff, angst (reader is distressed) warnings: mention of bugs, college AU, kissing, oral (f! and m! receiving), alcohol, changbin has a huge coke can cock WC: 2700 A/N: happy birthday Changbin! I know it's a week late but I think he would find it in his heart to forgive me. also slightly ironic i was wine-drunk when i wrote this <3

Seo Changbin is beautiful.

This, of course, has been an undeniable fact of life that you have been aware of since the first day of your sophomore year, your second year in college when you moved into your dorm room.

The earth tilted on its axis when Changbin, your resident advisor, peeked his head into your room and introduced himself to you. He was a junior, a year above you, but as previously mentioned, a beautiful man with broad set shoulders and hair a color that fell between some shade of blue and purple. Your first thought when the R.A. had introduced himself to you was ‘damn, I need to spend more time with this man and get him to fall in love with me.’ But the glorious thing about him being your resident advisor was that he a.) lived in your dorm building on your floor, and b.) you had a free pass to bother him whenever you so pleased.

And you did, shamelessly. Anytime you found any sort of reason to complain or bother Changbin, you could just knock on his door or even shoot him a text, as he had shared his number with every resident on your floor. And while anybody else might have been annoyed by the constant pestering, Changbin always seemed happy to help, no matter how small the issue. If there was a leak in your bathroom, you couldn’t remember the number to reach out to maintenance, or your neighbors were too loud, you were likely bothering him about it, to which he would greet you with a smile every time.

One night in particular there was a cockroach in your room. The dorm building was a million years old and crustier than what was likely allowed by safety regulations, but you definitely had no qualms about bothering Changbin for this.

“Queencard, I’m the top, I’m twerkin’ on the runway, I am a queencard you wanna be the queencard!” You heard from behind his closed doors the sounds of a fast and catchy girl group song, Changbin’s voice loud as he sang along with the lyrics. It made you pause a moment and giggle, knowing if he weren’t the R.A. he definitely would have received some noise complaints himself.

Raising your hand you knocked on his door and the music came to a halt, Changbin opening the door while slightly out of breath. You realized that he must have been practicing the choreography or something, which made you grin a bit more before you remembered the situation at hand.

“Y/N!” he smiled. “What can I help you with?”

“Changbin, hi,” you said to him, slightly teary-eyed. “Roach. There’s a roach in my room. I’m just– can you help?”

He blinked at you for a moment, grabbing his keys and phone immediately before wordlessly ushering you out the door. He knew his way to your room already–as previously mentioned, this was not the first time you’ve bothered him–and he’s the one that bravely opened your door, grabbing one of your shoes from your shoe rack and holding it as if it were a weapon.

Needless to say, that night ended in girly shrieks from the both of you, maniacal thumping and stomping that likely irritated your downstairs neighbors, and, thankfully, a dead roach. He was just as disturbed by the situation as you were, and you couldn’t help the fit of giggles once the bug was dead that escaped from your lips. He was just so dramatic and loud after the fact, recounting how gross and evil the creature was. You must have thanked him at least a million times, but that night you went to sleep with a smile.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You texted Changbin all the time now, about the most menial of things. At some point, you weren’t sure when the line had crossed from ‘R.A. down the hall’ to ‘someone you text about food hall chicken nuggets and professors that refused to round up your grades,’ but you weren’t complaining. Fast forward to now, soon to be fall break, when you (and you’re entire floor) get an email from Changbin about room checks.

You recall disregarding the email since you weren’t going home for fall break anyway. You’re staying on campus to get caught up on your assignments after midterms, plus a professor specifically requested your help in their lab over break for extra credit. Who were you to say no to that? You had already filled out the break contract, letting the school know that you were to be staying in your dorm over your break, so you had nothing to even worry about. Or so you thought.

It’s 6 p.m. on the first day of break. You’re being very studious, just as you had planned (scrolling through tiktok on your phone with your assignments pulled up on your laptop), when you hear a knock at your door. You only slightly jump out of your skin, not expecting anybody else to even be in your dorm hall at this time. You peek through the peephole and let out an excited gasp.

“Hi, Changbin!” you say excitedly, cracking the door open enough to slide out and greet him in the hall. “What are you still doing here?”

You should have made the assumption that he’s ‘on duty,’ but you clearly weren’t thinking. Here he stands, wearing a polo that says ‘Resident Advisor’ in your school colors, his name tag adorned on his right side. He also clearly wasn’t expecting to see you, however, eyebrows quirked and a playful expression gleaming in his features.

“Y/N,” he smiles as he addresses you. “I’m doing room checks, don’t you remember?”

“Oh, that’s right,” you say, mentally kicking yourself. Of course it was just room checks. Part of you wishes he was just here for you, to spend time over break, but you know that’s a silly notion. He has a job to do, after all. “Well, I’ll be here all break, so you don’t need to check my room. Good luck, though! Hope you don’t find anything too crazy.”

You go to turn and head back into your room when he starts to speak again. “Yah! Doesn’t anybody ever read my emails?” You glance at him sideways, unsure what he’s talking about. “Everyone needs to have their room checked, if they’re staying on campus or not!”

“What? Seriously?” you stammer. You really should have read that email. “Shit okay, give me like, 10 minutes to clean, okay? I gotta make sure there’s no roaches or anything.”

You attempt to crack a joke and he does smile, even lets out a little giggle at your words. But when he explains to you that he’s not supposed to give you time to organize your room, just in case you’re hiding anything you’re not supposed to, you blanche. You’re not even really sure what to say as Changbin opens your door and starts his room check, you standing awkwardly behind him.

You notice your mistake before he does, the large gallon-sized container of vodka on your dresser that you’re definitely not supposed to have. You really can’t even defend yourself there. You subtly shuffle to stand in front of the opposing object, staring down at your phone to feign disinterest.

“Y/N?” you hear Changbin call.

“Mhmm?”

“What’s behind you?” Shit. He totally knows.

“Um. Nothing?” He walks to stand closer to you, a wide but slightly sad smile splayed on his face.

“Please, please, don’t make me be the bad guy here.”

“Fine. Can’t you seriously just like, close your eyes for one second? I’ll hide it and you won’t have to do a ridiculously long report, and I won’t tell anybody, please,” you beg.

“Move, let me see what we’re working with.” With a sigh, you step to the side, revealing the extra large bottle of straight-up hard liquor.

He picks it up, giving you a side-eye with an exasperated sigh. “Seriously? Why?” he practically whines. “You’re really gonna make me get you in trouble?”

Fuck. The tears that prick at your eyes threaten to drop out and your face heats up. There seriously can’t be a worse situation that your crush having to write you up and get you into disciplinary trouble, all because you couldn’t be bothered to read a fucking email.

“Changbin, please, I’ll do anything,” you beg, dropping to your knees in front of him, your hands clasped together. You don’t even look him in the eye. “I can’t afford to get in trouble over this, you don’t understand. What if I lose my scholarship? Fuck, my parents will kill me. I’ll do anything, I really mean it. I’ll never drink again. I’ll pay for your laundry for the year. I’ll even suck your dick–”

“Woah woah, Y/N, it’s okay, I was just kidding–wait, what?” he freezes, your words finally catching up to him. What he thought was an attempt at teasing you, who had finally started to become his friend, had obviously gone a step too far.

“You were joking?” you ask, finally getting the courage to look at him. You swipe your arm over your face, using it to wipe away your tears. You look up at him with these innocent doe eyes that go straight to his cock, especially after what you just said to him.

“Yes, babygirl, I was just kidding. I’m not going to tell on you,” he says, staring down at you, the picture of perfection on your knees beneath him. “About… about what you said, Did you just say that because you were trying not to get in trouble, or… do you actually like me?”

“About sucking your dick?” He almost chokes on the saliva in his mouth. He nods timidly. “I meant it,” you confess. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

He blushes, moving forward to run his fingers through your hair. You notice the bulge in his jeans quite literally staring you in the face and you almost can’t believe your luck. You’re really going to get the opportunity to get with Changbin just because of an (almost) accidental confession?

“You’re sure?” he asks, pushing back his own beautiful, purple-hued hair as he looks at you with lips slightly parted. You nod at him, moving to help him unbutton his jeans and he hisses at the contact of your hands against his clothed cock. “Fuck, baby,” he groans as you push his pants down just past his thighs, mouthing at him through his boxers. “Will you at least let me take you out on a date after this? This is really not the way I thought this would go,” he sighs, but his head is thrown back in pleasure nonetheless.

“Yes, Binnie, I would really like that.” You notice him grin at your use of the nickname, losing his resolve at your response as he pushes down his boxers and lets you get a good look at his hardened length. He’s huge–you can’t help but blink at him for a moment, his cock just so girthy that you have a hard time wrapping your hand around it fully. His length is definitely longer than average but nothing to blink an eye at once you’ve gotten used to just how much girth he’s got. You do take a moment to appreciate his large, toned thighs, running your hands up and down the muscles before you wrap your lips around his tip.

You set an almost brutal pace, eager to please him with your mouth as you use your free hands to help you cover what you can’t reach. You think about how much you would kill to take the time to properly worship him, every inch of skin and muscle that he has been working on, but your carnal desire and need for the man standing above you heavily outweighs that. He’s properly enjoying it too, a hand woven through your hair and breathy pants and moans let out at your actions, even something along the lines of praise whenever you suck him just right, and that just fuels your desire to do even better for him.

You move your hands to cup his balls, heavy and tense with the need to spill, and you can tell he isn’t going to last long. You barely notice his hips as they grind forward into your mouth, meeting you halfway with every movement of your head along his length. When you look up and blink at him through your lashes he explodes, finally spilling into your mouth with a loud groan. You help him through his high, making sure you get every last drop of him before you swallow, smiling sweetly at the man.

He helps you off of the floor then, hoisting you up and off of your knees. You didn’t even notice the pain radiating through them from their spot on the hardwood, far too focused on pleasing the man in front of you. He checks on you though, scanning your body for any insight that you might not be okay before pulling you into a tight hug. You smile against him a moment, pulling away to speak before he crashes his lips hard into yours. It takes you by surprise, not expecting him to still be so eager and filled with desire after you helped him get his release, but the kiss is both full of thanks and an unsaid desire from his part as well.

“Changbin–” you finally say, pulling away from the kiss in an attempt to catch your breath.

“You’re stunning,” he tells you, his hands falling onto your hips before gazing intensely, almost scrutinizingly at your body in a way that would make you self-conscious if it were any man besides Changbin. “I was really hoping you liked me too. I don’t text every girl on this floor, you know. Just you. I’ll only kill roaches for you, do it all for you. Can I? Make you feel good too?” He asks, still somehow out of breath and full of lust at the sight of you.

“You want to?” The words are barely out of your mouth before Changbin lifts you up effortlessly. You want to be surprised by this fact but you feel like that would be an insult to him, to his biceps that flex and bulge at the action, his muscles that he’s been working on very hard for this exact moment. Your legs wrap around his waist and he lays you against your bed, grabbing a pillow so that he’s now on his knees at the edge of your bed.

He wastes no time slipping your shorts and panties off in one swift motion, taking the time to properly admire your glistening core. You want to be shy but you can’t, not before he’s eagerly diving in and lapping at your pussy like it’s his final meal. You both let out a moan and some string of words that sounds like, ‘oh my god,’ and he’s taking care of you with the same vigor and innate desire that you showed him just moments ago.

He works you up quite quickly, his hands roaming all over your body in appreciation as his tongue flicks against your clit. Your hands occasionally fist at his hair and he takes a moment to stare at you with dark and hazy eyes before continuing his ministrations. When you get close to your release and your hips start to buck up he holds you down so effortlessly that it’s hot. You barely realize the way that he stares at your face once you reach your release, cumming all over his face as he laps at your core. He pays attention to every expression, every furrowed brow and sound you make, and he knows just when to stop before the stimulation becomes painful.

Sitting up in bed to stare at him, you watch as he licks his lips, savoring your taste. He pulls you in for one final kiss and you can even taste the way your flavors combine, moaning into his mouth at the sweet and simple action. He helps you to pull your pants back up and even crawls into your bed for a few moments, stroking your hair as you lay upon his chest. Neither of you speak for a moment, relishing in the post-orgasmic bliss.

He laughs. “Really? Tito’s? Is that worth getting into trouble over?”

You smack his chest playfully. Something along the lines of “Shush,” is all you can come up with.

“So, about that date?”

You might be in love with Seo Changbin.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

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just444you · 8 months ago

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New era. 🐚🌺🥥🦀

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justjams2003 · 1 year ago

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Fast Pace-1

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Word count: 2,4k

Masterlist

Part 2

Your feet hurt, throbbing in your worn-out sneakers that you’ve owned since your first day at university. Your legs feel like jelly, and not in the good way, in the way where the back of your knees hurt, and the earth’s gravitational pull seems to be so much stronger. You feel like you’re being cooked like the way you’re preparing your sauce. Boiling, bubbling.

The sweat gathers at the brim of your chef’s hat and the back of your neck. The head chef is screaming at you, again, like he always does. You swear that he gets some sick thrill out of yelling at one. Forcing you to do 15 tasks all at once, while telling you just how horribly you’re doing all of them. Not only that, but you feel like you must think for the other four cooks you work with.

How you’re not used to it yet, you’re not sure. Maybe you’re not cut out for the industry, but you refuse to think of it. That would be your life’s dream down the drain. Not only that but, 20 000 euros down the drain. “Y/N, *il nous faut la sauce pour le jarret d'agneau!” Again, that damn head chef calls and you can feel your frustration burning in the back of your eyes. *We need the sauce for the lamb shank!

“*J'apporte ta foutue sauce maintenant!” You can’t help but let your anger bubble out. You give the sauce for the cook preparing the lamb, ignoring the fiery glare of the head-chef. “**Je prends ma pause.” You say, throwing your hat and apron on my station, once again ignoring your boss’ threats. You throw the door open, sighing in relief at the fresh air. *I'm bringing your damn sauce now **I’m taking my break.

You sigh, sitting on the dirty alleyway floor, leaning against the old brick wall. You pull out a pack of cigarettes, take one out, light it and take a deep pull. And as you sit, you can’t but groan as you read the invoice for your rent. You’d been so good on your bills, but then you got sick, again, then the bills started piling up.

“Fucking hell...” You mutter, rubbing your temples in annoyance. You get a message from your mom, asking how you are and when you’re coming to visit. You avoid it, you can’t face her. Your family all believe you to be this fancy five-star-chef, making it big in the capital of France. You don’t have the guts to tell them of your failure. Or the fact that you’re sitting on a dirty floor, after being verbally abused all day.

When you were little, you imagined being a princess in a big castle. With lots of gowns and jewels and shoes. You’d use your mom’s old dresses and put on a show. Whenever you’d get hand-me-downs or the new outfit once a year you’d put on a whole show. When people would ask what you want to be when you grow up, you’d always say a model.

When you got older, late teenage years, you, of course, had to think of something more realistic. And with chef-ing having the easiest job to find and the easiest degree to get, you chose it. Now, you regret it more than anything. Your dreams have been sucked dry and aspirations have little left. At home, you spend your time scrolling through the vogue Instagram, dreaming of the day that someone can do all this adulting for you.

Out of nowhere, a loud scream is heard. You snap your head up to the direction it came from, after watching the newest runway from Versace. Suddenly a man come barrelling down the alleyway. He keeps glancing over his shoulder in panic and almost fear. His skin is a golden tan colour, and his beautiful dark hair flies as he speeds down the alleyway. He looks ready to to climb into a nearby dumpster before he spots you.

He seems beyond relieved to see you. And then another scream is heard, and his expression becomes one of alarm. “J'ai besoin...uh...help?” His French is sloppy and mixed with English. But his accent is not one of an American. You cross your arms and lift your brow. “Aide?” You translate his words for him. He nods, glancing to the alleyway entrance again. “Si, si-” very much not French. “Now. Uh...” Then another scream and his urgency grows. “I speak English.”

This news gives him a massive sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Dios.” He mutters and then his relief turns again to imperativeness. “You to hide me. Now. I can’t tell you why. But you need to hide me. Now. Uh-please.” His dark brown eyes seem frantic, and his accent sends shivers down your spine. You’ve never met someone with this accent, in your whole 23 years of life and something about this intrigues you.

“And why should I, for all I know you could’ve just killed someone!” You reply, standing up and stomping your cigarette out. And yet your firm stand buckles when he gives these big brown eyes, which are filled with fear. “I’ll pay.” Your expression changes almost instantly. At this point you’re ready to do just about anything to get the insurance off your back.

“Yeah? You like that, cosa bonita? How much, pretty girl?” Then he pulls out his wallet and takes out a stack of hundred-euro bills. “You name the price, doll face. Here, two hundred? But please be quick with your decision.” Never before have you had this opportunity to make money this quickly. And you need to money now more than ever. How can you say no? What’s the harm? If he was a criminal, he would’ve hurt you by now, right? You don’t mutter a word.

Not to mention the way he uses the pet names don’t seem gross. He’s charismatic, so much so that you hope he doesn’t see the blush creeping up your ears. Not only that but his smile seems almost comforting. Like you could trust him with your drink in a busy club. How far are you willing to go to pay your bills? You grab his warm hand, with the money in, and shove the both of you through the back door.

“*Je suis malade. Je prends le reste de la journée.” You call out, shoving your chef’s jacket and the rest of your work attire into your bag, all with the man still trailing behind you. “I do like it when a pretty girl like you speaks French. I must thank you, not many girls would usually do something like this.” Suddenly his worried nature turns into a more welcoming, flirty one. *I'm sick. I'm taking the rest of the day off.

It’s rare that you’re called pretty by an utter stranger. Frozen in place as you stare up at the handsome stow-away. “Where is he?” It’s the same girlish voice as before, the slightly above standard’s restaurant doors slam open. “I must say though, my French isn’t very good. I’m sure you noticed. But I do hope you were telling your manager that we are leaving, no?” He asks and this time blush creeps from your cheeks all the way to your ears.

“Uh- yes- something like that. Come, we’ll hide in the worker’s bathroom.” You stammer your way through your sentence. Though you regret it the moment you close the bathroom stall. It’s small and barely above regulations, this place is cheap on their worker rights. His chest is pressed up right against yours. His body is so warm, like a nice fire in a winter cabin.

You know if you were cuddle with him in the cold snowy months, you wouldn’t even need a heater or warm socks. Wait, why are you thinking this? You’ve just met the man! Now you’re already thinking of burrowing yourself closer to him. His big hands stabilize themselves on your waist, trying not to topple over you. And you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, hoping the handsome man won’t notice.

At the same time, you wish your hair isn’t tied up, so that you could hide behind that piercing gaze. Especially now that your bodies are pressed against each other in the small bathroom stall. Your hands grow clammy, and you can feel that his eyes are trying to catch yours. Trying to see more of your face and you’re merely hoping the earth would swallow you whole. Feeling inferior to be admired by a man with such heat.

“I knew coming to France would be fun, but I didn’t expect being so close to such a pretty girl.” He seems entirely too big for the little stall and now you wish they had aircons that the American’s talk about. You too are forced to also steady yourself on his big, hard chest. Those dark unruly brows furrow. “Why are you so quiet now? Earlier you were quite happy to talk, no?”

Now you’re really blushing. “I assume when you someone like you, pays someone like me, you expect them to keep quiet.” You say avoiding his gaze, this seems to aggravate him. He takes you by the chin and forces you to look at him. His gaze softens when you look up at him through your lashes. But your legs feel like jelly when staring into those chocolate brown eyes.

“Someone like you? Someone like me? You should watch what you say.” Those dark golden eyes seem to stare right through your insecurities. “Why is that?” His words cause a spark in your mind, you’ve always been jealous of the rich ones. Not only that but the way they look down on you. This causes a smirk on his face, “So the mouse does speak?” You scoff at his words and start staring him down.

“The mouse does speak, and she’d love to ask why on earth she’s hiding with you in a bathroom stall?” His jaw snaps at your words and this time he looks away. “If I tell you, you might just be another person I need to hide from.” This time it’s your turn to laugh. “Tell me now, or I’m throwing you to the wolves.” He snaps down to look you in the eyes again. “You wouldn’t dare.” You smirk, “Watch me.”

His hand snaps up and then falls to his side again. Your heart is racing, it’s unlike you to be so daring or disobedient. But something about him makes you feel bold and confident. “Alright, niñita, tell me do you know about the Tifosi?” He asks, mixing his language in between and you can’t help but want to beg to know what he’s calling you

You shake your head no. “Alright, what about Formula 1?” Again, you shake my head no. He sighs and rubs his head. “Let’s just say I have a few loco, um, crazy fans.” You laugh, full on head back laughing. “Really? You paid me two-hundred euros to hide with you in a bathroom because you have some passionate fans.” Your eyes are twinkling with delight.

“No, no, no, niñita, you don’t understand. They had scissors! They wanted a piece of my hair!” This causes a flash of fears in his eyes, and he subconsciously rakes his fingers through his luxurious dark hair. You shrug and lift your hand, wiping a strand from his forehead. “I can see why.” It goes quiet then and the both of you can’t help but notice the screaming has died down.

“Well, if you’d ever like to know more about someone like me-” He sends you a wink and then grabs your phone from your back pocket. He shows you the lock screen and you roll your eyes but give in and open the phone. He puts in his number, adding a chili next to his name. ‘Carlos Sainz 🌶️’

You frown, “What’s the chili stand for?” Once more, he winks. “You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. And here-” he pulls out his wallet and hands you another hundred, “-for the trouble.” You blush again and shake your head. You hesitate, eyeing the money, biting the inside of your cheek, churning over if you should take it or not.

It’s been the first time that you’ve laughed in weeks. Not to mention the previous money already helps so much. “Tan testarudo que ya lo puedo ver. Está bien, me gusta un poco de coraje en mi chica.” He scoffs and shoves the bill in the back pocket of your jeans. “I think they’re gone now, I’ve got to go, I’m sure my manager is looking for me.” He says after his rant in the language I don’t understand.

He unlocks the bathroom stall door, and clatters out, yet somehow makes it look so hot. You escort him out of the restaurant and find yourself staring at him on the sidewalk of Paris. You can’t but remember, when he looks at you like he’s ready to devour you, that this is the city of love. Again, he steps up close, feeling his hot breath on your forehead. He’s six inches taller than you, he’s looming.

As if thirty minutes ago are happening again. He’s quiet and contemplative. His sweet, cocky attitude turns dark suddenly. His warm, rough hands gently caress your cheek. “I’m only in Paris for one more week, before I’m off to the Netherlands. If you don’t message me, I’ll make sure to see you again.” He looks so serious, so much so that your stomach turns slightly.

“Wouldn’t that be going a bit fast? Seeing me at my work a week after we met?” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. His eyes turn slightly darker and yet he smirks. “I like a fast pace.” As if he’s a villain in a bond movie, a bright black SUV pulls up next to him. “Don’t tell anyone about this. It’ll be better for the both of us. I don’t want the world to know about you just yet.”

His wink sends shivers down your spine. He then takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles. “I will see you again, muñequita.” He then slides into the back of the SUV; his gaze makes your core warm. And when he rides away you can’t help but lean against a close-by streetlamp. Your legs feel like Jello.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #scuderia ferrari #sugar daddy!Carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #carlos sainz smut

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portableanimations · 5 days ago

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So for the last few months, i've been cooking up a WW2 Human AU in which Aziraphale is a navigator in a Lancaster Bomber Crew and Crowley works as part of the ground crew that works on the maintenance of the aircraft's engines.

So here's Crowley with Jinx Oscar, a stray cat he unofficially adopts that hangs around the barracks and runway sometimes.

I have a couple of sketches I may post regarding what I've been working on towards this AU's story, including some more canon character appearances and Crowley and Aziraphale's general arc.

This whole thing was inspired after I watched Masters of the Air and as any sane hyperfixated-on-Good-Omens person would do, I imaged it as Good Omens, made it fit into the British context, accidentally* (scratches head) spent hundreds on a level 5 difficulty Lancaster B.Mk III Revell model set and tools despite having 0 experience in model building, made it all sad yet hopeful at once, then imaged it to Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevans.

Sooo... Childhood partners to be separated, only being reunited within the pinnacle of War in Europe. What could possibly go wrong?

It's title: Meet me at my Side (When Dawn Breaks over Britain)

* It wasn't accidental, but after I bought it, I then realised with horror that I actually had to build the thing. Several weeks later, and a chemical smelling bedroom despite being situated right beside an open window later, it now sits proudly on my shelf :)

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #good omens au #MMaMS-AU

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i-think-i-thunk · 4 months ago

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steddie racing au

Okay so I have some family that do drag racing for fun and I went to see them recently and it had me thinking about a steddie au. Also bear with me cause I only know a little bit about this lol. Also also, this turned out to be really long, sorry.

So Wayne Munson buys a racetrack in the late 60s/early 70s just outside of Hawkins

He's slowly working on fixing it up and ends up with a bunch of project cars

Word gets around town and pretty soon, local car and motorcycle guys start showing up

Even some from nearby towns

They all start meeting up on the weekends, bringing their families and kids, having barbeques, etc.

Needless to say, they become a really close little community

Something something Eddie's dad sucks and he ends up moving in with Wayne at like 9 or 10 years old

Cue Wayne suddenly having a traumatized kid that he hasn't seen in years and has no idea how to take care of him

So he starts taking Eddie to the track and of course lets him name it (Hellfire Raceway)

All of Wayne's friends step up and welcome little Eddie to the group

The guys teach him how to fix up cars and bikes and show him the ins and outs of racing

The moms take one look at him, decide he needs to bulk up asap and cook more food for him and Wayne then either of them have ever seen

Plus, the kids teach Eddie how to be a kid again

Eddie grows up covered in oil and grease and dirt, spending all his free time tinkering with things and helping Wayne maintain the track and learning to race

As he's learning to restore and maintain cars, he teaches himself how to do different paint jobs and straight line detailing

And he gets to be good, really good

Eventually racing starts catching on in the rest of Indiana, and the different tracks start having competitions with each other

The Hellfire community is slowly but steadily growing

In communities as tight nit at these, new faces are easy to recognize

So when one Steve Harrington shows up with nothing but his beamer and an odd girl at his side, people are shocked

He's spoiled, rich, entitled and cocky

Or at least, the old Steve Harrington was

This Steve is different

He's quiet and reserved, only offering a small wave and a smile every now and then

He starts at the bottom like everyone else

Works his way through the time trials as he learns

A few months in, Eddie starts to get curious

He's been watching Steve stumble his way through racing

He's also happened to notice that Steve doesn't seem to know much about car maintenance

One day, after Steve's car fails on the runway, Eddie helps him and Robin steer it off the track and offers to look at it

Cue Eddie and Robin having a very animated conversation while Eds tinkers with the beamer

After a couple attempts, Robin finally manages to rope Steve into the conversation too

And wouldn't you know it, Steve's actually a pretty good guy

They end up talking for a few hours and when Eddie walks them back to the track, he takes the time to explain scoring and the different types of racing

Maybe he introduces him to some of the guys

The summer is coming to an end, and Steve and Eddie are avoiding the topic at all costs, afraid of what it might mean, worried that autumn will mark the end of whatever it is they had going

Maybe Wayne has a mechanic shop that he and Eddie run during the week and in the off season

A few weeks after the track closes, Steve shows up to talk with Eddie while he's working in the garage

Watches in awe as Eddie works on engines and paints intricate details onto beautiful cars, always with a steady hand

And Eddie is ecstatic, constantly trying to show off for Steve and flashing a bashful smile when his natural clumsiness shows

Then Eddie starts showing up at Family Video to talk with Steve and Robin

Steals a few snacks and definitely doesn't flirt with Steve

Then Eddie is invited to their weekly movie night where he meets the kids and the rest of the crew

Gets real close with Jonathan and Argyle (maybe some background Jargyle)

Starts DMing for the kids and teaching Will and Erica as he goes

Steve, Robin and Eddie are rarely seen without each other at this point

Wayne is skeptical at first but becomes fiercely protective of Steve and Robin once he really gets to know them

Endgame steddie obviously

They bring the kids to the track the next summer and end up their own little cheer squad

Chaos and antics ensue of course

Maybe they work their way up to the pros or maybe they stay and take over the shop and track together. But either way, they survive everything the world throws at them. They buy a cute little house and grow old together.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #au #uncle wayne #wayne munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #racing au #steddie au #background jargyle #mechanic eddie munson #racer eddie munson #racer steve harrington

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typosandtea · 8 months ago

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Vertibirds. 🚁⚙️🗡️🪽

So every wastelander and his dog know that the fallout 4 vertibirds crash more than settlements need help. But why is that? Here's my 2 caps on the matter. (Or: Bethesda doesn't understand aviation very well I think)

( So uh this is way longer than I expected, I was possessed🚁☢️:] )

TLDR: Horrific conditions for aviation, the difficulties of wasteland heavy maintenance, inexperienced pilots AND mechanics, and the WORST damn instrument layout I’ve ever seen

The Vertibird is designed as a fictional tilt rotor VTOL/STOL(Vertical/Short Take Off and Landing) aircraft which makes a ton of sense in the wasteland where suitable runways are rarer than hens teeth. One of Bethesda's primary visual design influences for the vertibird I suspect is the bell boeing v-22 Osprey.

This funky creature \/

This photo is from the Wikipedia page >Here< [ID: a photo of a v22 osprey aircraft in flight as seen from below and to the right, the aircraft is a medium tilt rotor aircraft with very large propellers, the aircraft is current in vertical take off or landing with the engines pointed straight up. The landing gear is extended, the aircraft is painted in air-force grey with the faint decal “marines” and the American army star on horizontal stripes and the squadron and registration barley visible on the empennage. The cargo and forward doors are open and a soldier is hanging out the front. End ID]

Now the Osprey has a bit of a reputation among people I’ve met who’ve flown in them, I've personally been told things like "if it's not leaking hydraulic fluid, that means you're out of fluid" and "its terrifying to fly in".

My screenshot. [ID: A screenshot of a fallout 4 vertibird, seen from front left in flight over bushland. the Player is manning the minigun and Paladin Danse is a Passenger. End ID]

Looking at the Vertibirds themselves we can make a few assumptions here.

The shape of the cowling and the noise they make indicates that the engines are some form of turboprop engine, likely requiring liquid fuel akin to Avtur(Aviation turbine fuel). Confirmed by the Instruments visible in the cockpit.

The most weight efficient way to move big parts is hydraulics so, they likely have complex hydraulic systems for wing positioning / AOA(Angle Of Attack) / engine angle. Likely also for landing gear since they have retractable gear in fallout 4.

That the BoS has modified them from the original design at least partially, allowing attachment to the Prydwen, likely other modifications too.

I strongly suspect that they have an APU(Auxiliary Power Unit) in the aft fuselage / empennage somewhere, since they have a massive air intake scoop on the top fuselage, they can self start their primary engines which either requires a ridiculous amount of electricity / amps or a source of bleed air. Bleed air is the most likely candidate for self start and is reasonably common on real turbine aircraft, APUs also allows for ground power without having primary engines running. Also confirmed by the instruments in the cockpit.

All of these points are well and good and common in aviation, even modifications (ie. STOL kits, survey aircraft, agricultural mods, skiis, ect). But modern aviation has some advantages that the BoS doesn't have: access to new off the shelf parts, proper verified documentation, proper test processes & facilities, and experienced personnel.

Don't get me wrong, I think Proctor Ingram is awesome, very knowledgeable and practically a miracle worker (especially with that one terminal entry about an engine failure field recovery she pulls off!!), but one chief engineer cannot maintain an entire fleet AND the Prydwen, she comments on how things are breaking often on the ship that she is very busy! Training of new engineers takes *years* to even get to basic level! Ingram can’t train anyone she is too busy keeping everyone in the air 24/7! So who is training all of these scribes? There must be a huge amount of time teaching and supervising even simple tasks! Even at their best the BoS wouldn’t be able to hope to be near the prewar standards of training! Even Ingram or other senior scribes would not be thaaaaat experienced, 10 years is not a long time to completely learn a new aircraft and implement systems & processes of maintenance. The point here is that there are inexperienced scribes maintaining these aircraft.

WOLRDS BEST CHEIF ENGINEER ❤️ \/

My Screenshot. [ID: A screenshot of proctor Ingram from fallout 4, she is standing in the Liberty prime control area. She is smiling. She is wearing her usual modified power armour frame. Preston is visible in the background with a clipboard and pen, he is wearing woody’s outfit from toy story. End ID]

Heavy maintenance in the wasteland, especially in an active combat zone would be an absolute nightmare, are the poor scribes doing overhauls on the flight deck?? Not really possible, so the BoS must have a ground facility at the airport somewhere. Also side note where is the rest of Boston airport? There is more to an airport than a terminal and 1 runway, where are all the hangars?? Likely underwater but still, no ruins??

Back to maintenance, aircraft need a huge amount of care, way way way more than cars do. light civilian aircraft IRL need a full inspection every 100 hours of flight time, which adds up incredibly quickly! For example if you have a one hour commute twice a day that’s MR(Maintenance Release) hours reached in 50 days! You legally cannot fly out of hours. And a service for small aircraft takes about 3 personnel / 2 days and that’s without any major repairs or ADs (Airworthiness Directives) to address! $$$$! Aircraft operating in adverse conditions also need additional maintenance, and coastal areas like Boston, are considered adverse conditions since the salt air corrodes aluminum and steel like nothing else! Corrosion untreated will damage your aircraft and if left too long can destroy the structural integrity of aluminum parts. The spars of aircraft are aluminum often!

My photo. [ID: The inside of a Cessna 172 wing trailing edge is shown looking inboard at the aft root rib, which is primer green, it is backlit by torchlight, the fuselage and a orange scat hose are visible behind it, it has 3 irregular shaped holes in it, 2 are by design but the third medium sized hole in the center of the image is eaten away by corrosion. End ID]

Vertibirds, between being shot at constantly and having a complex deign with a lot of precision moving parts will need a lot of repairs; moving parts means lots of upkeep, grease and inspections! The BoS by 2287 must have some sort of manufacturing back in capital, they cannot still be using old parts from the enclave after 10 years of maintenance, that’s a lot of grease, paint and hydraulic fluid!!!

The BoS must also have a refinery of some kind because Avtur is a refined fuel with some important additives like biocide. Manufacture and storage of fuel is very important since fuel contamination will bring down an aircraft! (and has multiple times IRL! :[ ). Water, microbes, and algae are real dangers to engines, with free water being the most common. Poorly sealed tanks or improper fuel storage combined with a incomplete or missed pre-flight inspection can lead to fuel starvation, since water is heavier than fuel and tank outlets are at the bottom of the tank. If you loose an engine on a twin, may God help you.

This image is from Concordia Bioscience >Here< [ID: A photo of a sample of pale yellow Jet fuel in a clear container, the sample is contaminated with water and microbes and has separated into layers with water at the bottom, then microorganisms, and then Fuel at the top, the image is labeled as such. End ID]

Getting to the most likely crash reasons now (finally), In my opinion that is inexperienced pilots and; a horrific instrument layout.

While there must be some lancers in the BoS that have been flying for the whole 10 years that they’ve had Vertibirds, I think that is likely the exception not the rule, even if they crashed a fraction of the time that do in game that’s still A LOT of downed aircraft!

Experience is only gained in practice, and unfortunately for the BoS they are (self-declared) at war so resources are thin and safe zones are thinner. I suspect that there are a lot of very inexperienced pilots without the time for the experienced pilots to really teach.

Linking to my final point, experience on an airframe itself is also important, you want to be familiar with your aircraft, even among a group of the same model aircraft they will each have quirks, like slightly different instrument layouts, slightly different handling/feel i.e. "this one flies heavier / slower" (at least that's my experience with smaller civilian aircraft) I imagine that the apocalypse did nothing for improving manufacturing tolerances!

FINAL AND MOST DAMNING POINT:

Experience can only help lancers so much when veritibirds have such a strange instrument panel layout:

My screenshot. [ID: a screenshot of a instrument panel from a Fallout 4 vertibird. it is slanted on a approximately 30 degree angle. End ID]

A bit weird looking yeah? For reference Pilot is left seat and copilot is always right seat, this applies globally even in right hand drive countries.

lets take a closer look:

My Screenshots. [IDs: Three screenshots of the same Instrument panel as above, but zoomed in using a sniper rifle scope to get a better look. The first screen shot is the pilots side, the second the center, and the third the copilots side. End ID]

All righty! So reading from top to bottom, then left to right we have:

On the pilots side: A Rotor%RPM gauge, a VOR(Very high frequency Omni-directional Range) indicator, a DG(Directional Gyro), a HSI(Horizontal Situation Indicator), and then a huge AI(Attitude Indicator),

In the center section we have: presumably light clusters (likely master warnings & cautions, gear indicators, and other status lights), a second VOR gauge, likely magnetic compass as they are usually top centre (though I can’t see it being at all accurate with all of the steel around!), the engine instruments cluster, and the APU status / control panel at the bottom. unsure of what the 3 clusters of horizontal buttons are suppose to be other than input of some kind?

In the Engine cluster: Torque%, XMSN(transmission) oil temp / pressure dual gauge, a gas producer % RPM gauge with small integrated single percent dial (like having a seconds dial on your watch for accuracy) meaning the engines have free turbines (compressor not attached to the power turbine), a dual load / fuel psi gauge, a dual engine oil pressure and temperature gauge, fuel quantity in pounds, a turbine output temperature gauge (the hottest part of your engine), and a clock.

On the copilots side: a second Rotor%RPM dual gauge, a third VOR indicator, Airspeed in Knots and MPH, a RMI(Radio Magnetic Indicator) which uses VOR and ADF(Automatic Direction Finder) on compass, a second DG, a second HSI, and a teeny tiny altimeter right in the outboard corner.

the 4 instruments on the lower copilots panel are completely unlabeled

some things of note that are from game limitations:

most of the engine instruments don't have needles at all

the DGs and the RMI use the same background asset, resulting in the DG wrongly having 'VOR' and 'ASI' on its face, DGs are self contained air driven instruments that work on gyroscopic precession, not any outside data input.

all of the instruments with a compass face all say north despite this vertibird not quite facing north.

the AI is showing wings level despite this vertibird being crashed and on a ~30 degree angle

there are not engine controls at all not even flat assets, only flight controls.

There are a lot of instruments here and most of them are reasonably OK read individually, BUT there at least 1 key instrument missing and the layout outs emphasis on completely the wrong things:

WHERE IS THE VERTICAL SPEED INDICATOR(VSI)????? That's a pretty important gauge in a VERTICAL take off / landing aircraft!!!!!!!!!! It's one of the basic six pack!!! how was it omitted??? Speaking of the six pack why is there only one ASI and Altimeter?? and why are they tiny and ON THE COPILOTS SIDE ONLY???? the altimeter is LITERALLY the furthest instrument from the pilot in a vertibird, it should be right in front of the pilot!!! the easy to miss altimeter would make IFR(Instrument Flight Rules) flying incredibly dangerous! Also why are there four VOR based navigational instruments? VOR IS GROUND BASED NAVIGATION!!! unless the BoS has rebooted the multiple ground beacons for them to navigate from that's THREE dead instruments taking up space on the panel! the RMI is slightly more useful as ADF can tune to commercial radio frequencies, though these would need to be strong!

These poor inexperienced lancers are having to look all over the whole unnecessarily crowded cockpit for basic information that should be right in front of them, causing reaction delays and possible confusion. That delay could be the difference between whether or not they are flying home today.

-> Bethesda doesn't understand what half the instruments do and while they did a good job with most of the assets, in their quest to make it retro-future / visibly different from actual aircraft, they have completely destroyed any use of logic in the layout.

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Thanks for reading! Here’s a video of me yeeting Danse with the ‘Get out of my face mod’ as compensation haha

My Video. [ID: a video capture from fallout 4 in first person. It is night and is at oberland station facing the water treatment plant. The player is wearing power armour and the HUD is visible. The player is very close to Paladin Danse, he turns away from them and they shove him with the voice line “stay out of my way”. Danse flys a long way away while rag-dolling. The Gamer’s laughter can be heard while Danse is flying. The player follows Danse’s fall with the crosshairs. The player then walks backwards. End ID]

#they look cool and faster than a chopper that’s for sure #big disclaimer: I am not American or military I haven't seen a Osprey up close. and all of my experience is light fixedwings #If you know more about Ospreys or I've made other mistakes please correct me !!#oh yeah real brain rot days #been thinking about this for a long while #this catastrophe of a train of though was kicked off a when I decided to zoom in on the dash a vertibird out of curiosity and discover that #they have actual gauges that corresponding to real ones. just in the worst layout I’ve ever seen it’s so counterintuitive #Typos’ tea time #fallout 4 #fo4 #bos #brotherhood of steel #vertibird #fictional aviation

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