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finelinefae · 6 months

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birdy [Pilot!harry x teacher!y/n]

synopsis: it’s the 1950s. harry's had a hard life and y/n just wants the truth

word count: 12.3k

contains: fluff, angst, childhood trauma, nightmares, abusive father, neglectful parents, grovelling, smut (size kink, tiny praise kink, breeding kink, oral m receiving)

this is part 3 of the aviator read part 2 here

this could have gone one of two ways...

. . .

Y/N was convinced that returning to the airbase took only half as much time as the journey to reach the campsite. She hated hiking, even more so after this trip, but she had places to be so she charged down the trail all the way back to the airbase. The clouds overhead seemed to mirror her anger, morphing into shades of grey, empathising with her mood.

“Y/N, Harry went back earlier this morning. We came back from the bonfire and he was hyperventilating and shit. Thought he was gonna pass out so me and Pat went to get him some water but when we got back he was gone.” Sonny had told her when she had asked why Harry was missing.

Y/N’s mind instantly went to the night she had woken up to one of Harry’s nightmares. She wondered whether or not that had something to do with his sudden disappearance. However, it didn't seem to cool the anger she felt that seemingly continued to grow with every fueled step she took back towards Offutt.

As she made it out of the clearing, she noticed a figure sitting under a tree in the distance. She paused, squinting her eyes and immediately recognising those broad shoulders and that head full of brunette curls. Now that she could finally see him, she wondered if it would be better to just let him sit and wallow in whatever guilt he may or may not be feeling but she considered confronting things like this as self-care and she wouldn’t allow herself to return home without knowing why she had woken up alone this morning.

She ignored the droplets of rain that began to fall slowly from the sky. Instead, she trudged through the slightly muddy grass. Y/N caught his head turn as though he sensed her incoming. He shot up, standing tall and began to walk towards her.

Harry couldn’t even react when he saw the anger radiating from her face. He knew what he had done and there was no good reason for it, “Y/N-”

When she was finally in front of him, Y/N took a deep breath to steady herself. “Don’t ever disrespect me like that again,” she said firmly, her voice carrying her emotions. Then, turning away, she began to walk away from him.

She felt a hand wrap around her wrist but she tugged it, breaking free from his grip, “No,” She turned around to face him, “You walk away from me, I walk away from you.” It’s what she planned to do all along, make him realise how much it hurt to have someone turn their back on you.

Harry’s heart seemed to crack as her voice trembled, “Y/N,”

“Why?” Her bottom lip wobbled but she held her breath, trying to be stronger than him, “Why would you do that? Y’know, I’ve put a lot of faith in you Harry, I trusted you. People labelled you so many things and I always backed you up but that was just…Mean. You are being mean.”

“I know, I know,” Harry said, which only fuelled her anger even more. He had no idea what it felt like to wake up alone, especially after admitting something so honest.

“You have no idea,” Her voice raised, “You have no idea what that felt like because you will always be the person who leaves.”

Harry couldn’t seem to find the words. She was right and finally seeing him how he saw himself. There was nothing good about him and he had been told that his entire life by all the people he cared about. Everything he loved as a child was taken away from him with claw marks all over them. He had been forced to grow up, leave home and raise three kids. He knew one day that they too would be taken away from him- they’d find better people, a happier life - and he would be left with nothing because it was all that he had known and all that he had deserved.

Y/N couldn’t seem to fathom how he stood there in complete silence. The silence seemed to birth a new feeling inside her, another seed planted in her slow-burning heartbreak.

Until His voice murmured something, barely audible to her ear, "It was you."

She stilled, “What?”

His head lifted and she finally got to see him through the fog of anger. His cheeks were tear stained, his eyes red-rimmed and tired like he had barely slept. His hair looked as though he had run his fingers through them one too many times. “In my nightmare, it was you.” He confessed.

Y/N was struggling to breathe, “What are you talking about?” She whispered, her eyes glassy.

“I haven’t experienced it that way in so long, I-I thought I was okay now.” Harry's chest rose and fell with each heavy breath.

“What did they do to you?” Y/N took a step forward.

“I thought I was at home. I-I was in my room in my own body and my pops was there sitting in his armchair. He wouldn’t stop laughing at me and then I looked down and saw y’ on the floor,” Harry inhaled sharply like he was picturing the moment as he was re-calling it, “I tried to wake y’ up but you wouldn’t reply, y’ wouldn’t wake up and he was just sat there laughing and laughing. I was calling for help but no one could hear me and t-then he started saying I did it.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back her tears anymore as Harry began to cry. She wanted to reach out for him, to remove every bad thing that had ever happened to him and replace them with good.

“He said it was me who hurt you,” He cried, “I tried to save you Y/N but I couldn’t and he was just laughing.”

“Harry,” Y/N whispered, grabbing his hand and feeling him grip her fingers so tightly she thought it would cut off the circulation.

“I woke up outside,” He murmured, sniffling, “I was sitting out somewhere in the morning and Sonny and Patsy found me. I could hardly catch m’breath and they went off to get something that’d help but I was too ashamed. I couldn’t face them and I couldn’t face you either.”

"Why?" Y/N couldn't help but ask, despite all the times she had promised him she would be there for him.

Harry's gaze fell to the ground as he struggled to find the words. “Because,” He huffed, trying to smile but he just looked broken, “What’s a girl like you doing with someone like me? God, I love you so much Y/N. I’ve never loved anybody in m’ whole life and the only thing I know about it is that y’ give the people y’ love what they are most deserving of and you deserve so much more than what I can give.”

Y/N’s lips parted but he continued, “I have nothing. I am nobody. Outside of this place, I have nothing. I come from a family of nobodies and you…you are everything.”

Y/N’s heart ached with every word he spoke and the vulnerability and pain on his face. She felt as though he was cutting himself open and he had nothing more he could hide away from her, “Harry, you are changing that.” She whispered, her voice filled with conviction.

He frowned, puzzled by her words, uncertain of their meaning. “The way you are with your brothers and Elise, what you’ve given them, it is the biggest example of love I have ever seen. This life you’ve shown them here comes from your love Harry.” She said, a smile breaking through her tears as his expression softened. She reaches up to cup his cheek in her hand, “I don’t want you to give me something better, I want you to give me you and the love I have seen you give to the people you care about. And I want to give you love too because I love you more than words can even comprehend and you are so deserving of it.”

Harry’s eyes close softly as if he can’t quite believe the words he’s hearing and he’s trying to absorb it all. Y/N pulls his head down so their foreheads are pressed against each other, “Maybe you thought you had nothing but you always had love and if this is your nothing then I want all of it. That is what I want you to give to me.” She whispers.

There's a pause, a moment of silent understanding between them, as Harry processes her words. His eyes slowly flutter open, revealing a depth of emotion that takes her breath away. She sees in his gaze a mixture of disbelief and gratitude as if her words have unlocked something within him that he never thought possible.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Harry's hands find their way to her face, his touch gentle yet firm. It's as if he's trying to memorise every contour, every line, every curve as if he's afraid that this moment might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

"There is nothing in this world that means more to me than you," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "Thank you," he adds, his words filled with sincerity and love.

Y/N smiles softly, her eyes reflecting warmth and understanding. "That's okay," she says gently.

The rain pours around them as they stand underneath the shelter of the tree. Harry doesn’t even ask for permission, too eager to, as he presses his lips to hers. Y/N squeaks in surprise but melts into him when she allows herself to feel all the things he can’t communicate, put into every motion of his lips.

Harry feels new like the burden of his childhood is eased from his shoulders as the light from her kiss injects itself into his body. He wonders how he could ever allow himself to walk away from this, “I’m so sorry Y/N.” He says against her lips, “I love you, I’m sorry.”

Y/N sighs, “We’ll learn,” She says, “We’ll get better and we’ll both learn.”

It’s more than just words of forgiveness, it’s a promise and the start of something new.

When they finish kissing, they both look up at the sky and see how hard the rain is pouring, “I think I’m over this trip now.” Y/N sighs, “I don’t think I ever want to go camping again.”

“Oh c’mon it was fun,” Harry teases with a sniffle but then sees her deadpan expression, “Okay it could have been better but at least we’re together now.”

Y/N takes her hand away from him and crosses her arms, “Who decided that?”

Harry’s face drops, “I-I thought-.”

She quirks a brow, “I haven’t forgiven you for leaving me yet. That was just cruel and you should know better!”

Harry looked at her apologetically “I know baby-“ He reached for her hand but she swiftly moved away, stepping out into the rain and walking back towards the trail.

“I won’t be letting you off so easily.” Harry’s shoulders slumped as he stayed glued to the floor, watching her walk away from him.

He tried not to smile as she stumbled over the uneven ground, her clothes getting wet from the rain. He cupped his mouth and yelled, “But y’ still love me right?”

“Of course I do you idiot!” She yelled over her shoulder.

Harry smiled, “I love you too, bigger than the whole sky Y/N.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N yelled, “Prove it!”

Harry chuckled, running over to join her in the rain.

. . .

To grovel actually meant to get down on your knees and beg for not only days but weeks in Y/N’s books which Harry had gradually come to realise.

They returned from the airbase before everybody else and arrived at Y/N’s house to shower. Harry had tried to persuade Y/N to shower with him, using the classic excuse of ‘it’ll save water’ but she was too smart for that and he knew better.

Soon, life resumed its usual rhythm after the camping trip, but there was a noticeable change in Y/N and Harry. Others noticed the absence of tension between them, seeing the love reflected in their gazes whenever they looked at each other. However, they couldn't understand why Y/N refused to acknowledge their relationship, or why Harry seemed so smitten and eager- all of a sudden walking around like he was a lovesick puppy in need of attention.

Every day Harry would be doing something for Y/N, whether it was buying her flowers at the start of every week or walking her home during his work breaks. He’d rarely ever be seen with another woman, let alone make eye contact with them, all because he was desperate to make it up to the only woman he’d ever want for the rest of his life.

“Y/N,” Francine, one of the nursery workers, called her name as she was washing up paint pots in the sink, “He’s here for you.”

Y/N tried to hide her smile, “Could you tell him to wait please Fran?”

Soon Fran returned and in her arms was a giant bouquet, “He couldn’t stay very long,” She handed Y/N the roses, “But he told me to give you these.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her hands still dripping wet as she held the red roses in her arms. She placed them on the countertop and took out the card attached to the bouquet. ‘I love you bigger than the whole sky, your Harry.’

Y/N bit down on her lip as she folded the small piece of paper and slid it into the front pocket of her apron. “When’s that boy gonna put a ring on y’ finger?” Loretta, one of the older nursery workers asked.

Y/N scoffed, “Only if he can get near my hand first, Loretta.”

Although marriage would definitely not be happening anytime soon, the picture of it in her mind made her smile.

In the evening, Y/N had been enjoying some much-needed girl time with Molly and Patsy. Y/N hadn’t seen Nancy since the night of the bonfire. She was rarely ever home to the point where the girls wondered why she even bothered renting her room out for much longer.

They sat around the living room in pink robes, watching a movie and reading magazines. It had been a while since Y/N had had some downtime with her housemates. So much of her time had been either working or being trapped in the whirlwind that was her relationship with Harry.

“Can I have some of that?” Patsy asked, unable to keep her eyes off the television as she held her hand out for the bottle of wine.

Molly passed it over but her eyes narrowed on Patsy, “Is that Sonny’s sweatshirt you’re wearing under that?”

Patsy finally looked away, her mouth opening and closing, “N-no?” She lied, terribly.

“Did you sleep with him?” Molly questioned.

Patsy swallowed, “No…maybe…yes.”

Patsy's feeble attempt at denial only made Y/N and Molly laugh harder. Y/N struggled to stifle her giggles, while Molly's laughter rang out loud and clear.

"And? How was it?” Molly urged, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Patsy’s face flushed bright red, “It was good.”

“That’s it?” Molly frowned.

“Fine,” Patsy’s shoulders slumped, “It was wonderful, Mol. The best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re lying,”

“It’s true!” Patsy exclaimed, “There’s just something about ‘em, right Y/N? You slept with Harry already didn’t you?”

Y/N’s smile fell from her face, “Huh?”

Molly smirked, “Now you definitely cannot lie about that. Everyone knows it.”

Y/N's smile faltered, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What do you mean, everyone knows?"

Molly's smirk widened. "Come on, Y/N. It's written all over your face. You've got that look all the girls have, you know the one where they lie about being with someone when it’s clearly not the truth."

Y/N's cheeks flushed as realisation dawned on her. "Oh," she murmured, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"So, spill it," Molly urged, leaning in with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Have you?"

“I don’t know…Maybe,” She could feel the corner of her lips tugging upwards and her hands quickly shot up to cover her face.

Her two housemates squealed, jumping up from the couch with excitement, “You have?” Molly grinned.

“Yes!” Y/N laughed.

“Tell us all about it!” Patsy fell to the floor and leaned in towards her.

“O-Oh, I-” But as luck would have it, Y/N was interrupted by the doorbell ringing and then the door swinging open.

“Patsy?” Sonny’s voice rang down the hallway as he invited himself in again.

Molly rolled her eyes, annoyed, “What is it?”

Footsteps sounded against the hardwood floors as Sonny entered the living room. His eyes landed on the girls as they sat on the floor, “What are you doing?”

"What does it look like we're doing?" Molly retorted, crossing her arms defensively.

"Can I join in?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Patsy groaned, "Just tell us what you want, already."

“Oh,” Sonny shook his head as if reminding himself why he was here, “Elise is sick,”

Y/N stood up, “What? How sick?”

“George has had to bath her four times already and Harry can’t seem to get her to sleep. It’s manic in that house, y’ gotta help us out.” Sonny begged.

"But it's girl's night," Molly said firmly, gesturing toward the girls in their gowns. "And we're not your nurses or your babysitters."

"Please?" Sonny's eyes pleaded, darting towards Y/N.

Y/N sighed, relenting. "Fine. Let me get dressed." She manoeuvred past the girls seated on the floor and headed upstairs to her room to change.

“What? Patsy, y’ can’t be serious?” Molly whined.

“It’s Elise and Sonny’s sister.” Patsy shrugged as though it was reason enough.

Molly huffed, knowing no matter what she said it wouldn’t be enough to persuade them to help a sick child. The girl’s night they had planned would just have to be put on hold, “Alright,” She conceded.

Sonny led the girls across the estate to the Styles’ household. Along the way, Y/N and Molly teased Patsy and Sonny when they noticed them holding hands inside the pocket of Sonny’s aviator coat. The closer they got to the house, the more they could hear Elise wailing from inside.

He swung the door open, the girls following behind, “I’m back!” Sonny called as they entered the kitchen, “I bought reinforcements.”

Harry turned around when they all stepped into the room. He was shirtless, holding onto a crying Elise, her little face all scrunched up and red. His eyes immediately gravitated towards Y/N, “You’re here,” He sighed as if the sight of her had alleviated some of the stress he was feeling.

Y/N walked straight up to him and took Elise out of his grip, “M here,” She sighed, “Oh sweet girl, it’s okay,” Y/N kissed the side of the two-year-olds head, swaying her side to side in her arms.

“She’s been sick all afternoon, must have got it off some kid at the nursery.” Harry exclaimed, his eyes tired from taking care of his sister and being at work all day, “I’ve tried everything. Normally singing her to sleep helps but she won’t seem to settle and I’m all out of ideas.”

“Hey,” Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling his warm skin, “It’s okay, we’re here to help you.”

He relaxed beneath her touch, the sentiment making him smile, “Y’ don’t have to,” Harry murmured.

“Harry,” Y/N gave him a stern glare, “I want to.”

His lips curved into a grateful smile as he nodded. "Thank you."

Y/N was so ensnared by his captivating eyes she had to force herself to look away, “Go shower. We’ll clean up down here.”

Harry saluted playfully, brushing past her but not before pressing a hasty kiss to her cheek. Y/N gasped, spinning around and seeing a hint of a smirk on his face as he ran up the stairs.

“Ha Ha,” Elise croaked, pointing at her brother.

Y/N’s expression softened at the little girl’s tired voice, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

As Sonny and Patsy helped clean the kitchen, Molly made a start on dinner and George and Y/N bathed Elise in the kitchen sink. Although Elise was exhausted from being sick all afternoon, everyone went about their chores whilst trying to bring a smile to her face. Whenever she giggled at George and Sonny's antics or Patsy's playful arguing with Sonny whenever he attempted to flirt with her, the group would cheer from their achievement at making her laugh.

Once they’d put all the dishes on the table, Harry had come down from his shower. Y/N drew in a breath when he walked through the door with damp curls and a towel around his waist, “Jus’ need to grab something,” He smirked as he walked past Y/N who caught the smell of his coconut shampoo.

As Y/N stood at the kitchen sink to get rid of Elise’s bath water, she felt his solid form come up behind her. Her lips parted, a breath of air escaping her, as he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. With his other arm, he reached out, his hand still resting on her shoulder, to open the cupboard above her and pulled out a clean hand towel.

The warmth spreading through her body dissolved once he pulled away. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when she heard his feet against the floor fade as he left the room.

To her side, Molly and Patsy were trying not to laugh as they covered their mouths and tried to resume what they had previously been talking about before they were briefly interrupted. Y/N rolled her eyes and walked to the table to begin plating up dinner for everybody.

Harry had returned from his shower and now sat at the end of the table with Y/N to his right and Elise beside her sitting in a high chair. She was nibbling at the food George had prepped for her, taking small bites when she felt like it.

Everyone tucked into their meal as a smooth jazz record lulled in the background. Suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, George piped up, “So is everyone dating at this table?”

Sonny groaned, “Why’d you bring that up?”

“Because!” George paused, cutting into his meat, “I can’t handle the tension in this room, it’s like you all want to have sex with each other.”

“George don’t be so vulgar,” Molly snapped, her tone sharp, “But he does have a point.”

“Well Patsy and I are together,” Sonny put an arm around Patsy’s shoulders only to receive an angry glare in return, “What?” He took his arm back, “They already figured it out!”

“Well, what about Y/N and Harry,” Patsy crossed her arms, wanting to divert the attention to something else, all heads turning to face the couple at the end of the table.

“Well, I-I-“ Y/N was all flustered, not knowing how to approach the subject until Harry stepped in.

“It’s up to Y/N,” Harry shrugged, taking a bite from his fork. Y/N’s head whipped in his direction, “I’ll do whatever she wants me to do.”

As he spoke the words, she felt his hand land on her thigh. Y/N stilled as he squeezed her knee but instead of freezing like she always seemed to do with him, she placed her hand on top of his and flipped his hand over to intertwine their fingers wanting to show him at least some grace for his ability to speak when she couldn’t find the words.

“Well good for Y/N. You see not all girls are easily swayed by you boys, you know.” Molly remarked.

“Ahh are you sure about that Mol? Maybe it’s just because you’re the only girl here who hasn’t tried to sleep with any of us.” George quipped with a teasing grin.

Molly scowled, “Don’t you have to follow Nancy around or something?”

Sonny burst out laughing as George’s face fell, “Yeah yeah, you can all laugh but the other day I swear I almost got a smile outta her.”

“Oh nice, an almost smile yeah that’s really great George.” Everyone laughed around the table.

By the time dinner was over and everyone had been ridiculed at least once, Elise was already half asleep. Harry volunteered to tuck her in, lifting her gently and carrying her upstairs to her bedroom. As the others stepped outside for a smoke break, Y/N took it upon herself to clear the empty plates and tidy up.

Before tidying, Y/N went upstairs to use the bathroom. As she climbed the steps, she noticed a partially open door. Intrigued by the humming coming from the room, she quietly peeked inside.

It was dark other than a small candle lit up in the corner of the room. Harry stood by the window with Elise in his arms. Her cheek was resting on his shoulder as her small hands fisted the sleeve of his shirt. His big hand rubbed up and down her tiny back as her eyes fluttered open and closed. She almost resembled a cherub resting on a fluffy cloud as Harry hummed her to sleep, his head turning an inch to press a soft kiss to the side of her head.

Y/N's eyes glistened with an emotion she couldn't quite place. Her heart felt like it was trying to leap out of her chest and walk into the room to join them. The longer she stayed fixed on the two siblings, alone in one space, it seemed as if they were the only two people existing, if only for a brief moment in time.

Not wanting to disturb their peace and quiet, Y/N carefully tiptoed away from them to give them the space they needed.

She stood at the kitchen sink and began filling it with water and soap. Her mind drifted to the image of Harry holding Elise almost as if he were her own father. Y/N’s heart had been hurting for Harry and his siblings ever since he had broken down to her on the hill. A part of her wondered if she was doing all this because she felt she had to fulfil some kind of duty to them but it never felt like work helping the Styles’ siblings, she just had a spot for them in her heart that was growing exponentially by the day.

Y/N felt that presence that had become so familiar to her, come up behind her as she cleaned the dishes. His arms snaked around her waist, swaying them slowly to the gentle bossa nova that played over the record player, “Dance with me,” He murmured, pulling her away from the sink.

Y/N laughed, spinning around in his arms and pressing her wet and soapy hands to his face. Harry’s face scrunches, “Have I told y’ I love y’ today?” He asked, nuzzling his cheek in her palm.

“Hmm,” Y/N pretended to think, “I don’t think so.”

“Well I do,” He says, “I love you bigger than the whole sky, Birdy.”

“I love you too,” Y/N replies because she always will no matter how angry she is or was with him.

“Enough to forgive me?” He tries but his face already says he knows the answer.

Y/N inches forward, her lips brushing his, “Almost,”

Harry grins, pulling her in closer, “This could be our life y’know.”

“What could?”

“All this,” He motions to the house, “We have our own house and make our own food. Everyone is safe and we’re happy. Maybe have a couple of kids-”

Y/N scoffs, “A couple?”

“Alright,” Harry chuckles, his head falling back, “One, five, eight or even zero, I don’t care I jus’ wanna be with you.”

“That sounds nice,” Y/N sighed, falling in love with the image she had painted in her mind, “And we’d live here?”

Harry kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek on it as they swayed, “We can live wherever y’ want Birdy, I go where you go.”

Y/N can’t help but pull his neck down to kiss her. Even though they weren’t exactly together, Y/N couldn’t help but kiss him when she wanted to, which was more often than it wasn’t. She’d never tire of the way his lips felt against hers, how she’d melt in his embrace and feel his heart beating against his chest.

“Just so we’re clear, this doesn’t mean we’re together,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

“I know Birdy, I know.” He smiles, kissing her even harder.

Harry ends up helping Y/N clean the kitchen, drying the dishes while she washes them. It's a new experience for him, doing something domestic with the person he loves. It feels small and simple yet meant more to him than he could seem to understand.

“Since I’m tryin’ to be better, I gotta tell y’ something,” Harry pinches her sleeve, needing to touch her in some way at all times.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, immediately beginning to worry.

“Oh no it’s nothing so bad, it’s just my Mama sent us a letter a few weeks ago and I think ‘m gonna go visit her without the boys.” He shrugs, “Jus’ to check in on her y’ know?”

Y/N knew Harry didn’t want to admit the truth about his visit. Despite the fact he never had a close relationship with his mother, he had always been her protector. Harry couldn’t stay away from his home no matter how hard he tried, too afraid that if he did, something detrimental would happen and he’d feel nothing but guilt for the rest of his life.

“On your own?” Y/N frowned, “Y’ don’t even want George to come with you?”

“If George goes he’ll jus’ get upset. I probably won’t even tell ‘em I’m going, I jus’ wanna make sure everything is okay. Maybe if I show m’ face she’ll stop sending so many letters every weekend.” His voice carried a mix of concern and weariness.

“Well okay,” Y/N paused for a brief second, “I mean I could come with you, maybe, i-if that’s something you’d want.”

Fear flashed in Harry’s eyes, “No,” He stated firmly, “I’m not letting you anywhere near that old bastard.”

Y/N knew he was referring to his father, “I won’t let you go alone, Harry. It’s either me or one of your brother’s but I will not let you go into that house by yourself.” She wasn’t going to lie and say that she wasn’t afraid for him. She’d never met his Father or truly knew the depths to which he had gone into causing such trauma for Harry but she wasn’t going to allow it to continue. “Please, let me come with you.”

Harry opened his mouth to immediately reject her offer but paused, considering her words carefully. He saw the determination in her eyes, the fierce loyalty she held for him, and it touched something deep within him. He also knew she was stubborn and wouldn’t let up over something like this no matter how much he refused.

After a moment of silence, he sighed, relenting. "Alright," he finally murmured, his voice laced with apprehension. "But promise me, Y/N, you'll stay close and keep your guard up. My old man... he's not an easy man to deal with. We’ll be in and out of tha’ house all in the same day.”

Y/N nodded solemnly, her resolve unwavering, “Thank you,” She said.

. . .

With the days that passed before Harry would return to his childhood town, his fear and anxiety seemed to grow. His nightmares had continued to worsen, each one of them had turned into one about Y/N. On the nights when Y/N slept in her own bed, he found himself walking through the dimmed streets in the middle of the night to sneak into her house and crawl under the covers with her. She’d whisper soft things into his ear, promising that everything he dreamt of was simply just that, but he struggled to believe her as he held her tightly in his arms until the morning arrived.

They took the two-hour train from the station to his home town in Wyoming on the day of the visit. Harry barely spoke a word as he held Y/N’s hand in his lap all the way there. They had decided on wearing somewhat fancy attire. Harry wore tailored trousers with a belt and a white shirt tucked into it, whilst Y/N settled on a new blouse she had yet to wear and a long skirt with kitten heels. They hadn’t spoken it aloud but part of them wanted to show without telling his parents just how well they were doing for themselves.

“Baby,” Harry whispered, nudging Y/N awake after she dozed off on his shoulder, “We’re here now,”

Y/N hummed, her eyes fluttering open to the window. Outside was the train station which was really just a raised platform by the train tracks with a small ticket booth nearby. The place was almost deserted, with only a few people stepping off as the train pulled in. Harry grabbed her purse and held Y/N’s hand as they exited the train and stepped onto the platform. It wasn’t long before the train was off again, leaving a bellow of smoke behind.

Glancing around, Y/N noticed how grey Harry’s hometown was. The buildings seemed weathered, and besides the train station, there wasn't much else to see—just a row of buildings housing a grocery store, a clothing shop, and a bank. Everything became increasingly sparse and lifeless the further out of town you ventured, and Harry’s house just so happened to be situated on the outskirts.

When they left the train station, Harry walked to a cab that was already parked outside with no other customers. He opened the door for Y/N to enter first, “Are you okay?” Y/N asked, sensing Harry’s discomfort.

“Y’ know there’s nothing more I wanna do than take y’ back to Offutt right?” His eyes were hard as he stared between the two front seats out of the windshield of the beaten-up vehicle.

"I know," Y/N's voice was quiet, a hint of uncertainty creeping in as she wondered if she had pushed too far by insisting on accompanying him. However, before she could dwell on her thoughts further, he picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to it, reassuring her without words.

Y/N tried not to react too shocked when the vehicle stopped far outside of the town they had entered. In front of them was a house that looked as though it was made out of planks of wood hammered together. There was a front porch with a rocking chair that was rotting away and a clothesline with white sheets blowing in the breeze.

“This is your home?” Y/N wondered, looping her arm with Harry’s when he came up beside her.

“It’s never been m’home,” He replied, lowly.

As they approached the front door, it creaked open before they could even knock. Standing behind it was a woman with the same green eyes Y/N had noticed in each of her children. Her hair was wispy and greying, with streaks of brunette that were a darker shade than Harry’s. She had heavy bags under her eyes and wrinkles all over her face. Her thin lips turned into a smile, her eyes watering as she opened her arms to the man beside Y/N, “My boy,” She croaked.

Harry stiffened when he felt her arms wrap around him, “Mom,” He grumbled.

The woman pulled away and then her eyes turned to Y/N, her smile drooping, “Who’s this?”

Harry opened his mouth to introduce herself but Y/N quickly stepped in, “I’m a friend of your son, we met on the Airbase.” She held her hand out.

Harry’s mother looked down at her hand and then back to Harry, “You’re bringing girls home now? Where are your brothers?”

Harry’s jaw tightened, “They’re not here.”

“And Elise?” She went on.

“She’s back home,”

“This is her home,” His mother argued, “And I’m her mother,”

“We won’t be staying here for long,” Harry said, moving past his mother and stepping into the house. Y/N tried to offer his mother a smile but she just frowned.

The inside of Harry’s childhood home was cold and empty, lacking any hint of life or sign of a whole family living here for well over ten years. Bits of furniture littered the house here and there, each individual piece looked battered and beaten.

“Are you staying for dinner at least Harry? I’ve been cooking all afternoon,” His mother walked to the small kitchen and started stirring a pot that was already cooking on the stove.

Harry looked down at Y/N, “We can stay,” She told him even though she knew he didn’t like the idea, she didn’t want to let his mother’s cooking go to waste.

“M taking Y/N to m’ room,” Harry grumbled, unwilling to wait for his mother to say anything.

Y/N followed him to a small room near the living room. It was no bigger than an average old pantry, containing only a small, single bed and a little chair and table tucked into the corner. Above the bed hung a mobile adorned with wooden planes painted blue, dangling gently. Y/N reached out and held one of the jagged wooden planes in her palm.

The corners of her lips turned upwards as she examined it, wondering if Harry’s love for planes stemmed from a young age. Turning round to face him, she fell back onto his bed and sighed, “Come lay with me,” Her hand dangled from the bed, her fingers reaching out to brush his.

Harry shook his head but fell onto the bed beside her, his feet dangling off the end. It was so small that Y/N had to practically lay on top of him, her chin resting on his chest as she looked up at him. She brushed some of his hair out of his face, “How are you feeling?” She checked in.

“Strange,” He murmurs, “Seeing you in this house made me realise how foreign this place is to me now. You’re home and this is just… Something I don’t want in my life anymore.”

Y/N’s gaze softens, “Your mom never told me her name, I don’t think she likes me very much.”

Harry’s hand slides up her back to play with the ends of her hair, “She doesn’t like anyone really but her name’s Debbie if y’ must know.”

“Debbie,” Y/N replies, her voice soft, “Hey, if things get uncomfortable we can go, just say the word.”

Harry felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude at her calming, understanding nature, “Thank you for being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Y/N teased and Harry laughed, the sound echoing in the darkened room of his childhood.

Despite Debbie’s cold attitude towards her, Y/N still tried to make an effort by helping set the table for dinner. In the corner of her eye, she caught Harry fussing over his mother when he saw her hands were all scathed from being outside every day as she poured stew into each bowl. The image made her eyes glisten with tears that threatened to fall until she blinked them away.

As they placed each bowl of stew on the table, a thud sounded from outside and then the squeak of the hinges on the front door as it swung open. Y/N’s heart stopped as Harry paced towards her, moving her behind him as an old man stumbled in. She grabbed Harry’s sleeve, peeking past him to see a man with hazel eyes and balding, grey hair. His face was wrinkled and scruffy, his nose red but his face gaunt. His footsteps were heavy against the wooden floorboards, with every inhale of his breath he seemed to suck out the warmth from the house.

His eyes fell on Harry and then to Y/N, “Hello boy,” His voice sounded like gravel as he spoke.

“Old man,” Harry’s voice was something Y/N had never heard from him before. It felt like he was trying to control all of his anger whilst also trying not to show his fear. She squeezed his arm a little, hoping it would give him some reassurance.

“Nice to know you’ve remembered your family,” He sniffled, closing the door behind him.

“Y’ make it hard to forget,” Harry replied.

Debbie walked in between them like it was something she had done many times before whenever there was tension, “Jack, you’re just in time for dinner.” She was much too cheery but it felt hollow and insincere, “Harry’s friend is joining us from that camp they’re staying at.”

Jack glanced at Debbie with a flicker of annoyance before turning his attention back to Harry and Y/N. "Well, aren't we all just one big happy fuckin’ family," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Y/N felt the tension in the room thicken, a silent battle unfolding between the family members. She exchanged a knowing glance with Harry, silently urging him to stay composed.

Ignoring Jack's jab, Debbie gestured towards the dining table. "Come on, let's sit down and eat. I've made your favourite, Jack," she said.

Sitting at the table, Jack's presence felt heavy in the room. Y/N looked at Harry, silently showing her support. She knew dinner would be tricky, but she was committed to being there for Harry. She held his hand under the table and squeezed. Harry rubbed his thumb over the pulse point on her wrist in order to relax himself.

It was just dinner and they’d be going home straight afterwards. Home to his real family, where it was safe and he was most loved.

Debbie came out of the kitchen with two cans of beer and placed them in front of Jack before sitting beside him. He cleared his throat as he opened both cans, “Where are y’ brothers?”

“Not here,” Harry spoke, lowly.

“Don’t get funny with me boy, where are they?”

“I already told you.” Y/N jumped when Jack’s hand smacked down on the table, Harry’s hand squeezing her in assurance like this was a normal reaction to have.

“You’ve left y’ brothers at that camp and bought this random whore here?” He spat.

“Don’t call her that,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t even know her fuckin’ name and y’ bought her into my house?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Y/N interrupted him, “My name is Y/N,” She said, her eyes hard, “And if that’s how you speak to someone you don’t know Mr Styles, I hate to see how you speak to those you do.”

Y/N could feel all eyes on her at the dinner table but she ignored them, acting as though what she said didn’t matter, as she tucked into the stew that was in front of her. “Next time you come back here,” Jack gruffed, “Y’ bring your brother’s. Much prefer them here anyway.”

This time it was Y/N’s turn to feel a bubble of anger rising within her, “Don’t want no more whores in my house, except y’ mother,” He chuckled, darkly, “She’s the only one allowed here.”

Harry shot up, his chair scraping against the floor, “How fuckin’ dare you,” He spat.

“Sit down,” His Father ordered, refusing to look up at him.

“Harry,” Debbie whispered, tugging on his hand to try and pull him down.

Reluctantly, Harry lowered himself to his seat. His jaw clenched as he stole a glance at Y/N, silently grateful for her unwavering support in the face of his family's hostility. He’d refuse to open his mouth for the rest of the dinner, in hopes it would speed things up and they could leave. He was filled with regret that he had allowed Y/N to come to this Hellscape, even more so for even considering it in the first place.

It fell silent- nothing but the scraping of cutlery against plates- until Y/N decided to speak, her anger too much to withhold any longer, “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me that Mr Styles,” Harry must have gotten whiplash from how quickly his head whipped around to look at Y/N as she spoke.

“Say that again,” Jack replied, lowly.

“I said I would appreciate it if you’d stop calling me a whore, it’s rather distasteful.” Y/N dared to look up at him, meeting his lifeless eyes when she did. She felt Harry’s fingers squeeze hers but she refused to break eye contact with the only man who she had ever hated before even meeting him.

“Distasteful? What are y’ a slut from Preston?”

“No,” Y/N continued, “I’m not a whore or a slut from Preston and if you knew me or your own son, you’d know he wouldn’t dare bring someone with the likes of you home with him.”

Rage flashed in Jack’s eye, “Why you little-”

Harry rose to his feet as Jack raised his hand in the air, bracing himself for the impending blow. But before Jack could strike, Y/N intervened. "The fact that you assume so little about me, Mr. Styles, is your first mistake," Y/N declared, her voice unwavering. "Truthfully, I know people. Put a hand on me, and I'll go straight to my father. He's a doctor, you see—a very important one who knows a lot of important people. One of his patients just so happens to be the Governor. Do you know the Governor, Mrs. Styles?" Y/N directed a smile at the timid lady sitting opposite her, who blinked in response and quickly nodded her head.

"As much as I hate throwing around big names, sometimes it pays to know people more powerful than those who assume they have it all," Y/N continued, her gaze steady on Jack. "Wouldn't you say, Mr. Styles?"

Y/N stood up from the table as Jack’s jaw clenched, biting his tongue to stop from speaking. She grabbed Harry’s hand and intertwined their fingers, “To answer your question, your sons are at Offutt Air Base not camp. It’s their home where their older brother raised them along with that little girl you both abandoned. You can assume I’m a whore or a slut or whatever you think I am however much you like Mr Styles but I will not let you sit there and strip all of the love your son has shown to your children when you weren’t willing to give them anything.”

“Thank you for the dinner Mrs Styles but we’re leaving,” Y/N looked up at Harry who was already looking at her with nothing but pride all over his face, “I’m sorry Harry but I can’t stay here anymore.”

He nodded, following her out of the house but stopping when his father stood in front of him. Y/N gasped when Harry raised his arm and punched his father straight across the face. Jack groaned, cupping his nose as blood began to drip from it. Harry gripped his shirt in a fist, “Call my wife a whore again and I’ll fucking end you.” He spat, pushing him away.

Y/N and Harry ignored his mother as she fretted about his now injured Father, walking out of the house.

As soon as they stepped off the porch, Harry pulled Y/N to the side of the house where they were shielded from view and pressed her against the wall. His lips met hers eagerly, his hands cradling her face as her eyes fluttered shut. "You called me your wife," she breathed between kisses.

"Easy mistake," he replied quickly before his lips seeked hers once more.

Once they pulled away, their chests heaving and Harry’s lips tinged pink from Y/N’s lipstick, the biggest grin stretched across his face, his eyes sparkling more than she had ever seen before, “I didn’t think I could love you any more than I did.”

Y/N’s eyes watered, a mixture of love and the come down from the adrenaline that had fueled her in the last few moments all began to hit her at once, “You are everything to me,” He murmured, “Everything.”

"I love you too, Harry.” Y/N leapt into his arms, wrapping herself around him and refusing to let go.

After leaving the house, it felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted, as though a burdensome weed had been plucked from their lives. The air seemed lighter, and even the moon appeared to shine a bit brighter overhead. As they walked, Y/N couldn't help but notice the peace reflected in Harry's eyes whenever he glanced up at the sky.

Though it wasn't the end, it felt like the first step towards releasing the things that brought no good into Harry's life. With Harry's arm lazily draped over her shoulder and hers around his waist, they stumbled down the street, unable to find a taxi or any passing vehicles to take them back to the train station. To outsiders, they might have seemed like a drunken couple, but in reality, they were simply two people deeply in love and, for that moment, they felt truly free—and that feeling was even better.

They boarded the last train back to Offutt that night, and Harry was adamant about keeping Y/N close. Despite the empty carriage, he insisted she sit with him, to the point where she was practically sitting on his lap.

As Y/N grew tired, Harry allowed her to rest her head in his lap while she stretched out across the seats. He gently played with her hair and traced the contours of her face. "Can I show you something when we get back?" he whispered. Although exhausted, and longing to simply fall asleep with him in her bed, she nodded in agreement.

Y/N giggled as Harry skipped ahead, the smile on his face had yet to be replaced as he led her to the warehouses at the airbase. “C’mon slowpoke,” Harry called much too loudly for this time of night.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Y/N shook her head, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Keys jangled in his back pocket as he pulled out a chain that had too many keys for Y/N to count dangling from it. He plucked one out and put it into the padlock that was keeping a lock on the large, metal doors to one of the hangars where the planes were kept.

The doors clanked open as Harry pulled them apart enough for them to walk through. The light from the moon slipped through the gap, creating a dim light within the hangar. Harry switched on the lights in the panel on the side and the whole room lit up. Y/N followed Harry as he took her to the back of the warehouse where some of the planes which needed fixing up were kept.

He stopped in front of a single-engine propellor aeroplane, painted blue with white stripes. It had a cockpit with a glass canopy and seated two people inside. Y/N frowned, “Is this what you wanted to show me?” Living on an airbase, she’d obviously seen plenty of planes that were different variations of the one in front of her so she was unsure what she was meant to be looking at that had got Harry so excited.

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. He came up behind her and placed both his hands over her eyes to cover them. She stumbled as he nudged her forwards towards the side of the plane, “We’ve been working on this for a while and me and the boys have been struggling to give it a name. It was only until I met you that I realised what the perfect name for it was.” Harry removed his hands from her eyes, Y/N’s eyes squinting to adjust to the light until they focused on a word written in yellow on the side of the plane.

Birdy.

Y/N’s lips parted, walking up to touch the yellow font to see if it was real. She turned on her heel, eyes watering, “You named a plane after me?”

Harry bit back a grin, eyes twinkling, “Of course I did,” He whispered, “Need you with me all the time, now I can have you in the air too.”

“Oh Harry,” She sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck, “It’s wonderful,”

“Yeah? Y’ like it darling?” He kissed the top of her head.

“I love it,” She sighed, her eyes darting to the cockpit, “Can we sit in it?”

“Course,” Harry helped her up the little ladder and into the cockpit, before sitting in the spot next to her. “The electrics aren’t on so if y’ touch anything it won’t move.” Y/N’s hands pressed some of the buttons, still unable to believe she had a plane named after her.

Harry smiled watching her and then leaned in to kiss her. Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and Harry deepened it, his tongue sliding into her mouth and his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. “Harry,” Y/N breathed, her eyes fluttering shut as he began to kiss down her neck.

“This is for you baby. There ain’t nobody else for me,” He whispered, “and I don’t want anybody else.”

His fingers brushed down the skin of her arms as her head rolled to the side. He kissed the base of the column of her neck, “You love me?” He asks, voice raspy.

“I do,” Y/N hums, her hands all over his clothed torso gripping the fabric in tight fists.

“How much,” Y/N gasped as his fingers played with the buttons of her blouse before he slowly undid the first one. He pressed his lips to her collarbones as he continued on the next button.

Y/N’s hands fell to the buckle of his belt, tugging on the metal to pull him closer. With every inch of skin that was revealed, Harry would place a small kiss there like he was worshipping every inch. Y/N could feel his breath fan over the top of her breasts as he got to the middle button, “C’mon baby, how much?” He taunted.

His hand slid up her back under her shirt to the clasp of her bra, “Tell me how much y’ love me and I’ll make y’ feel good hmm? Is that what y’ want birdy?”

Y/N nodded, “So much Harry, so much.”

“What?” Harry grinned, “Y’ love me so much or y’ want me so much?”

“Both,” Y/N gasped, “Please,”

Harry’s lips mould with hers as he uses both hands to remove her blouse, the buttons flying everywhere. Y/N’s hands fumble to remove his belt as Harry tugs his own shirt off hurriedly. His hands are hot against her body as he unclips the clasp of her bra, “So beautiful,” He says, in awe.

Y/N’s cheeks heat at the compliment. His hand splays across her bag, his pinky finger digging into the hem of her skirt as he continues to kiss her deeply. “Harry, I-” Her face feels hot as she stops herself, feeling too embarrassed to ask the question.

“What is it darling?” He cups her cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.

She looks up at him, her eyes round and full of lust, she cups the bulge of his dick through his trousers in her hand, “Please?” She whines.

“Y’ wanna suck on m’ cock sweet girl?” He smirks, seeing her get all flustered as she nods quickly. She’s already trying to unbuckle his belt before he has time to say anything else. Her eyes widened when his cock springs out of his boxers, she still couldn’t get over how big he was as she wrapped two hands around the thick girth and pumped up and down.

Harry groaned, feeling her hands wrapped around him. She pulled away to sit up on her knees in the seat, tucking her hair behind her ears and bending forward. Harry’s head falls back against the headrest as she puts one hand at the base of his cock and kisses the tip. “So big,” She murmurs.

“Gonna take it in y’ pretty mouth baby?” Harry taunts in a playful tone.

Y/N sucks on the tip, her eyes closing as she tastes him for the first time. Gradually she takes him deeper, inch by inch, her tongue sliding against the thick vein of his cock as she does. “Good girl,” Harry praises her, grabbing her hair and holding it in a fist.

She stops when the tip hits the back of her throat, using her hand to jerk off what she couldn’t take in her mouth. Harry groans when Y/N gags and pulls away to catch her breath, “Careful baby,” He squeezes her cheeks together and forces her to look at him. Seeing her red, glossy lips and hazy eyes, drool falling from the corner of her mouth from how big he was, almost made him cum right there. He wiped his thumb over her chin and kissed her, “Doing so good my girl,” He murmured against her lips.

As she goes back to mouthing at his cock, he can’t help but run a hand down her back and squeeze her ass beneath her skirt. Y/N makes a sound that sends vibrations down his cock and he knew she’d have to stop before he came down her throat, “Need to be inside y’ baby,' ' Harry spoke.

Y/N’s pops him out of her mouth, “Are y’ gonna fuck me now?” Her big doe eyes look up at him. She almost looked innocent if it weren’t for his cock in her fist.

“Yeah darling girl, M gonna love on y’ now.” He tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

Y/N's hands tangled in his curls as she adjusted herself to lay back on the seats. Harry’s lips parted as he looked down at her, her chest heaving and her nipples pebbling under his gaze. He ran a hand through his hair, the glass canopy around them fogging up with their breaths.

Harry swallowed, moving on top of her and holding himself up with his hands pressed into the plush seat beneath. Y/N’s legs parted for him to rest between them, her hands going to his back, fingers digging into the hard muscle.

“Are y’ okay?” Harry murmured, brushing some of the hair from her face.

Y/N smiled, “I’m fine,”

Y/N could feel his hardened length on the inside of her thigh as he pulled her skirt up and revealed her white panties. Harry tutted, “Did sucking me off make y’ this wet baby?” He asked, his fingers moving her panties to the side to reveal her dripping cunt.

Harry’s fingers dipped between her folds, brushing over her clit to collect some of her wetness before smearing it all over her pussy. His hand travelled down, smearing her juices over the tip of his cock before he lined himself up with her.

“Y’know, I don’t think I ever apologised properly for what I did that day,” He pressed open mouthed kisses a long her jawline as the tip of his cock teased her entrance, “What do y’ say darling girl? Y’gonna let me be good and fuck my apology into you?”

Y/N’s hips bucked into him, “Mhmm,”

Looping her arms around his neck, Y/N’s lips parted as Harry eased himself into her. She was suddenly reminded of just how big he was as he moved further and further inside of her until he bottomed out and she could feel every inch of him as she clamped around him, “S’ good,” She hummed, her eyes fluttering open and closed.

“Yeah?” Harry chuckled, kissing her quickly, “M nice and snug? Can y’ feel me in y’ baby?”

Y/N nodded, grabbing his hand and spreading out his fingers to press them against her tummy, “Feel you here,” She sighed.

Harry kissed her forehead, “Y’ like that?”

“The best,” She smiled, lazily.

“Made just f’ me that’s why,” Harry smirked.

Slowly, Harry began to slide in and out of her, taking his time knowing this moment was different to their first time. It was softer- gentle even. Y/N whines, feeling all of him against the walls of her pussy. Harry groans when he sees her stomach bulge when he moves back in her - a sight he could never overcome no matter how hard he tried.

“Y’ fucking perfect Y/N. Feels so good.” Harry’s voice wavered as he felt himself get lost in the feeling of her.

As his hips moved faster, the closer he was to his release. He held her hips, glancing down to see his cock moving in and out of her. He feels her pussy clenching tightly around him, signifying she was close to her release too.

“Am I making my girl feel good? Hmmm?” He presses his nose against her cheek as her head falls to the side. “M’ best girl, lovin’ me the way you do, how’d I get so lucky?” Y/N couldn’t seem to find the words to reply, her body writhing beneath him.

Harry pressed his hand down on her tummy, the added pressure making her groan, “Y’ gonna have my babies in there one day?”

“Yes,” Y/N gasps as he fucks her harder.

“Yeah? Gonna have all my kids and be a pretty little housewife?” Y/N whimpers, her hands scratching down his back. “I love y’ so much.” He whispers.

“Love you,” Y/N slurred.

Harry’s hand begins to rub at her clit, the added sense of pleasure filling her entire body with heat that only continued to build the more he pumped his heavy dick inside of her. Y/N feverishly craned her neck to kiss him, needing that extra physical touch.

“Y’ gonna let me cum in you, darling girl?” Harry murmured, his voice shaking.

“Please cum in me Harry,” Y/N’s eyes blurred as the bubble of heat burst in her belly.

With a final thrust, Harry released a heavy groan as his cock filled her insides with his cum. Y/N’s back arched into him as her breath caught in her throat, her eyes rolling back when she came around him at the same time.

Harry fell on top of Y/N, his sweaty forehead against her chest. She lazily moved her hand to his hair, running her fingers through his soft curls. Harry puckered his lips to press a kiss right where her heart was beating erratically.

A silence fell around them as they tried to catch their breaths, “Have y’ forgiven me yet?” Harry murmured, his hands tracing patterns on her hip.

"I think I forgave you ages ago; I just wanted to punish you a little," Y/N admitted, a truth she had realised for a while now.

"I deserved it," Harry agreed.

"You did," Y/N acknowledged.

“But I’ll be better. For you, I’ll be anything but I’ll always try to be better,” He looked up.

Y/N cupped his face, “I don’t need you to be anything but you.”

Harry kissed her palm, “Thank you… For it all.”

. . .

“Are you nervous?” Patsy asked as the girls sat on top of the hill on a picnic blanket.

“A little,” Y/N lied, she had hardly been able to sit still since this morning.

“Hey,” Molly smoked a cigarette, “These boys have done this plenty of times, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“I just hope it all goes well, they’ve been working months on this.” Y/N’s eyes darted around to see if she could spot him.

Elise sat on the picnic blanket in a diaper, chewing on her fingers and making noises. Molly swooped her up in her arms as she stood, “What do you think Elise? Will your brothers actually do something smart?” Molly cooed.

Patsy hit her shoulder lightly, “Don’t be so mean,”

Y/N’s ears pricked as she heard the sound of an engine in the distance. She removed her sunglasses, trying to see where the source of the sound was coming from. “Look!” Patsy pointed towards the thing moving in the blue sky.

Y/N’s caught sight of the blue plane flying in the air, if she squinted enough she could see the yellow spelling of her nickname on the side, “He’s there!” Y/N laughed in disbelief, “He’s there!”

The plane flew closer and Y/N could make out Harry sitting in the cockpit with George beside him. All the girls waved, Elise giggling as they jumped up and down. Y/N took her hat off and started waving it around to try and catch Harry’s attention.

His head turned and a huge grin spread across his face as he saw her wearing a red dress just like she had told him she would after he told her they’d be flight testing the plane again and he wanted her to be there to watch.

“Will you be able to see me on the ground?” Y/N asked as she sat atop his worktop whilst he worked on the plane, her legs swinging backwards and forwards.

“It depends on how close y’ are. I can’t really see that well when ‘m flying high up.” He tells her.

“Hmm,” Y/N thinks, “What if I wear something colourful? Will y’ be able to see me then?”

Harry bites back a smile, “Maybe,” He shrugs, coming up to stand between her legs. He leans forward to kiss her, “Why? Y’ planning on wearing something special for me Birdy?”

Y/N bites her lip, her eyes sparkling, “Possibly.”

“C’mon,” Patsy snatched the blanket off the grass, “They’re going to land soon,”

The girls headed back to the runway where the plane would land. They could already see Sonny looking through his bicolours. Patsy waved, running towards him and falling into his arms. “Did y’ see?” He looked down at her, happiness all over his face.

“It’s great baby,” Patsy kissed him.

Y/N watched as the plane descended, growing bigger against the sky. With a rumble, the wheels made contact with the ground, the plane gradually slowing down as it ran down the runway. Everyone ran towards the plane as Harry lifted the glass chamber and hopped out with George coming round the other side.

Cheers sounded through the air from everybody. Harry’s eyes immediately met Y/N’s, his hands reaching out to catch her in his arms. She leapt into his embrace, moulding her lips against his, “That was incredible!” She squealed when they pulled away.

“Yeah?” Harry was trying to remain calm but she could tell he was proud of what he and his brothers had achieved today, “Y’ proud of me?”

“So unbelievably proud,” Y/N spoke, her eyes radiating the truth in her words.

“Ha, Ha!” Elise squealed for her brother.

Harry’s smile widened into a grin as Molly placed Elise into his arms, “Did you see that Elise?” He kissed her chubby cheek, “Did y’ see your brother flying?”

Elise just babbled in response.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Harry and Elise, joining in the embrace. At that moment, surrounded by the people he cared about most, Harry knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be. With a contented smile, he squeezed Y/N's hand, silently thanking her for always believing in him.

“Hey have any of you seen-” George glanced around before his eyes landed on someone in the distance, “There she is,” He murmured to himself.

Everyone watched as he ran towards a woman standing by the entrance of the warehouse, “Is that Nancy?” Molly held a hand over her eyes to block the sun so she could get a better look at them.

“Hey, I think it is,” Patsy agreed, her eyebrows furrowing.

Y/N looked up at Harry who just shrugged.

. . .

The same evening, the Styles’ house was filled to the brim with people who had come over for their house party, celebrating the success of today. Elise was staying at a family’s house since the party would most definitely be going on well into the night.

Y/N observed Harry from across the room as he engaged in conversation with his pilot friends as she sipped on a cocktail Patsy had given her. She had no idea what was in it but she drank it anyway, knowing it was probably better not to ask. Every so often, their eyes would meet, and a smile would pass between them as they communicated in a language only they knew.

She noticed his lips were still tinged red from the lipstick she had kissed him with as they got ready for the house party. Y/N had offered to wipe it away for him but he liked the idea of people knowing he had been kissing you just by looking at the colour of his lips and yours.

Y/N’s heart felt so at peace as she glanced around the room and spotted each member of her found family. Her life had been so grey and mundane until she came to Offutt where everything changed and love had given her a whole new palette of colours.

It had been hard and full of ups and downs but it was worth it, every second of time was worth it.

She felt a presence come up beside her and turned expecting to see Molly or Patsy but was surprised to see Nancy standing there, leaning against the wall next to her. “It’s funny, I’ve been here longer than you and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone look at somebody the way Harry looks at you.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, “Thank you? I’m not-”

“Listen,” Nancy turned to face her, “I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “W-what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” Nancy turned away again, “I was a bitch and I liked Harry but not for the same reasons you do. I should have stood up for you and him the night of the bonfire when that asshole came and spoke to you but once again I was a bitch and quite honestly I probably still am a bitch but I’ve met someone who I really like and I’m trying to be better.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, “Nancy-”

“I totally get it if you hate me and I don’t expect to be friends with you but George is Harry’s brother so we’re probably going to be seeing more of each other and-”

“Nancy,” Y/N interrupted her rambling, “It’s okay,”

Nancy’s shoulders dropped, “Really? You don’t hate me?”

“I’ve never hated you, I just haven’t particularly liked you but I think that could change if we truly got to know each other.” Y/N shrugged.

Nancy's eyes widened with surprise, hope flickering in them. "You mean that?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Y/N nodded, offering a small smile. “If you're George’s sister then one day we might be sister-in-laws and that would make things awfully strange if we didn’t get on, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Nancy huffed, “Those boys sure do need a break from family drama. I mean there’s some serious daddy issues in that family.”

Y/N laughed, it was the first thing they both had ever agreed on, “You can say that again.”

Nancy's face lit up with relief and gratitude. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice trembling with emotion, “I-I’ve never been good at having friends and I truly am sorry for being so horrible. If it helps, I guess you managed to prove me wrong, I think I even proved myself wrong with the way things are now.”

Y/N reached out and squeezed Nancy's hand reassuringly, “It’s all okay.”

Nancy and Y/N spoke for a little longer. Giggling as they compared their boyfriend’s habits with one another until George came over and whisked Nancy away.

A hand snaked around Y/N’s waist, her gaze falling on those ring-clad fingers. She turned to look up at those beautiful, green eyes, “Hi Harry,”

“Hi Birdy,” He whispered, his eyes darting from her eyes to her lips and then back up again. “Y making friends?”

“I’m trying,” She grinned.

“Good to know,” He smirked and then held out his hand, sliding his fingers to thread with hers, “Y wanna dance with me?”

“M not very good you know,” She had told him plenty of times before.

“S just swaying,” He repeated the words he said to her the first time they danced together.

Y/N laughed softly as Harry pulled her closer, their bodies swaying gently to the smooth jazz music filling the room. She rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. With a contented sigh, Y/N relaxed into his embrace, letting the music wash over them. In that moment, as they moved together, there was nowhere else she'd rather be than in the arms of the pilot she pictured spending the rest of her life with.

"What are you thinking in there?" Harry tapped the side of her head with the pad of his finger.

Y/N hummed, "I'm just happy,"

"Yeah? You are?"

"Yeah," Y/N sighed, resting her head against his heart, “I love you, Harry, so much,” Y/N murmured.

“I love you too Birdy,” Harry leaned down to brush his lips with hers, “Bigger than the whole sky.”

taglist:

@ribbonknives @scorpiotulipicon @hermionelove @champagnepronlemsxxxx @n0vaj3an @roxyfan14-blog @avasbeanie @idontcareforausernamesblog @tpwksummer @celesterry @love-letters-to-uranus @boredhsblog @tpwk-harry-styles @groupieloveclub @estaticheart @unknownkii @royaler1999 @lovebittenbyevans @harryscherri @emsma11 @fairytale07 @psciostyles @hannah9921 @junhuisworld @fandomxo00

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topgun-imagines · 2 months

Text

Permanent State of Oblivion

Requested: yes

Summary: Despite all the times you have tried to make your feelings for the mustached pilot obvious, he still hasn't caught on. You make things clear one night at the Hard Deck.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: drinking, arguments, angsty feelings.

Pairings: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader

“I just- I don’t know what to do about him, Nat.” You were seated across from Natasha on her bed, hand in hers as she worked on your nails. One well-kept secret about Phoenix was that she was incredibly talented in nail art; a secret that you regularly capitalized on as her best friend. She often used you for practice, like she was doing right now. Silently, the pilot nodded, used to your ranting about Bradley by now. “He’s just so- so oblivious.”

Unbeknownst to Bradley, you’d had a massive crush on him for months. You had been friends with the mustached pilot for nearly three years. He was an amazing friend, and in that department, you couldn’t ask for more. The only issue that you had was that apparently, Bradley was blinder than a bat. No matter how hard you tried or how obvious you made it, Bradley never picked up on your crush on him.

Normally, you wouldn’t mind that your feelings remained a secret, however; your feelings had reached the point where you knew they weren’t going away anytime soon. The only option left was to try and tell Bradley how you felt.

Painting one of the roses on your nails, Nat weighed in on the situation. “He’s an idiot.” Her choice of words had you stifling a giggle, receiving a playful glare when your hand twitched. You murmured an apology as she continued. “The only way he’s gonna realize how you feel is if you’re straightforward about it.”

A groan bubbled out of your chest. You hated confrontation. Surely if Bradley was smart enough to be in the top one percent of all naval aviators, he was smart enough to realize your feelings for him. Right?

“I know, I know,” You started, “I just wish he could open his eyes for once.”

“Maybe if he shut his mouth for once his eyes would have some room to work,” Phoenix muttered, knowing exactly how stubborn the pilot was. The two of you descended into giggles as Natasha finished off your nails.

Before you knew it, the two of you were in your car, blasting music as you drove to the hard deck. Jake had organized a night out for the group, and the two of you certainly weren’t ones to pass on a fun night out with friends. As Natasha hadn’t hesitated to point out, maybe you would finally get the chance to tell Bradley how you felt.

You pulled into the parking lot and parked beside Jake’s truck. The two of you hopped out and headed into the bar, already plotting what interesting drink orders you could try and get Penny to make this time. The second you stepped into the bar, you were greeted loudly by the group of aviators. With large smiles, you and Phoenix joined the group and were quickly pulled into whatever idiotic story Jake was telling. Unsurprisingly, your eyes quickly found Bradley.

Phoenix pretended that she couldn’t see how your stare lingered on your coworker. While you knew that Phoenix knew, you were oblivious to the fact that Jake and Bob had also figured out your little secret. Natasha forbade them from saying anything or trying to persuade Bradley into doing anything stupid. God only knows that if they told that fool to make a move on you he’d find some way to mess it up.

As Jake rambled on about some hilarious incident from his recent vacation back in Texas, you couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if you told Bradley the truth. Honestly, you were tired of wasting time. You didn’t want to miss out on anything anymore. Even if Bradley didn’t feel the same, you needed to know. At least then you would be able to move on knowing that nothing could ever happen between the two of you.

Natasha’s elbow in your side pulled you out of your depressing thoughts. She fixed you with a knowing look, leaning over to whisper in your ear as the rest of the group dispersed at the end of Jake's story. “Tell him,” she urged you quietly. “We both know that he’ll never figure it out on his own.” And with that, you mustered up all the courage that you could before disappearing into the crowd to find Bradley.

Suddenly, Bob and Jake popped up over Natasha’s shoulder. “Twenty bucks says the dumbass still finds a way to screw it up.” Bob and Natasha hummed in agreement.

By the bar top, you were just about to call out to Penny to ask where Bradley was when you spotted it; a brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt and a pornstache that could put all the rest to shame. It took a couple of minutes of maneuvering through the intoxicated crowd, but eventually, you were standing right behind him. At the soft tap on his shoulder, Bradley spun quickly, surprised to find you standing there.

“Hey Bradshaw,” you started, “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” He nodded for you to continue. “I just wanted to tell you that-” Before you could finish your sentence, you were interrupted by some blonde winding her arms around his shoulders and peppering kisses up the side of his neck. Your words died in your throat as you started at the scene in front of you. Bradley didn’t even try to push her off. You felt sick to your stomach.

Noticing the tears welling in your eyes, the blonde smirked. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?” She sounded innocent, as if she didn’t know exactly what she was doing by trailing her finger across his chest and sucking a mark into the skin of his neck. You could only shake your head, feeling bile rise in your throat. The room suddenly seemed hot; you were desperate to find a way out of there. Before you knew it, you were shoving your way through the crowd and out the door of the bar.

With the blonde still clinging to his side, Bradley looked around the room in confusion. He met Natasha’s stern gaze and instantly knew that he had screwed it up somehow. Bradley huffed and pushed the blonde off of him, rolling his eyes at the scoff she let out. Then he was following after you, leaving the chaos of the bar behind him as he chased you into the parking lot. “Hey!” He called out, hand grasping your wrist. “What the hell is your problem?”

You jerked your wrist out of his hand and spun to face him angrily. Your face was hot with anger and Bradley could have sworn he saw steam coming from your ears. Despite all this, he could see tears welling in your eyes. “My problem?” You seethed, stepping dangerously close to him and jabbing a finger into his chest. “My problem, Bradshaw, is that you’re ignorant enough to let that- that slut hang off your arm without a care in the world!”

It killed you to see him standing there with her, but what was worse than all of that, was the fact that he didn’t care in the slightest. It’s not like she was someone he was seeing; she was just a random face in the bar. Somehow, that made things worse to bear.

Bradley scoffed and dismissively shoved your finger away from his chest. “Why the fuck do you care?” You could only stare at him, searching for the words he wanted to hear. “That chick had nothing to do with you, and you know that so what the fuck is your problem?” He paused, his words cutting deep as you searched for a response.

Behind him, the bar door opened revealing Jake, Bob, and Natasha. They watched silently as you continued to rip into each other.

“You know what, you fucking dick?” You were close to him once more; so close that you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You are the most ignorant, self-absorbed person I have ever met.” With each accusation, you drove your finger into his chest harder, despite his attempts at brushing it off. “You are so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you don’t even notice who you’re hurting!”

You had never spoken to him like this before. Sure, there had been little arguments here and there, but the rage that he saw in your eyes now was something new entirely. A single, angry tear dripped down your face. “You don’t think about anyone besides yourself! You certainly don’t care about them. And believe me, Bradshaw, you have made that more than obvious.”

The pilot in front of you scoffed once more, having no retort for your deep jab at his character. Of course, he cared for the people around him, and for you to suggest otherwise was, in his mind, unfathomable.

However, you didn’t stop there. “You are absolutely unbelievable! You are so oblivious it’s painful, Bradshaw. You must have your head stuck up your ass to miss every single hint I’ve been giving you for months!” You paused for a moment, waiting for Bradley to interject.

He didn’t, refusing to believe anything you said to be true. There was no way that you could have feelings for him. Was there?

He shook his head in annoyance. “You still haven’t answered my question,” he pointed out, hating how easily you were able to sidestep it. “Why the fuck do you care who I flirt with?” His voice was loud, even scaring those watching from the front steps of the bar. Bradley figured that you were probably having a bad day and had taken your anger out on him. Even though he hoped that this wasn’t the case and that you actually did care about who was flirting with him. It was wishful thinking; to imagine that you would ever see him as anything more than an annoying friend. He was sure of it.

You could only groan angrily with tears still tracking down your skin. “Jesus, Bradshaw, because I love you, you fucking idiot!” It was as if time stood still. That was what it felt like as you watched Bradley process the reality of the words that you had just shouted at him. No movement came from the pilot in front of you; the only sign of life being the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. There was no way it could be true. There was no way that a kind-hearted, sweet girl like yourself could ever fall for anyone as messed up as him. To Bradley, the mere idea of you having feelings for him was unfathomable.

For months, he had watched you from afar, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He slowly began to learn what you loved, from your favourite song to sing along to when you were drunk at 2 am to your favourite flavour of ice cream. Bradley learned what made you laugh until your stomach hurt and what made you cry until your cheeks were stained. He knew every little thing about you but he never acted on it, in fear that you would never feel the same. To know that all this time, you had feelings for him as well, was surreal.

The deafening silence grew between the two of you, moving until it encompassed the bystanders waiting in front of the bar with bated breath. Continuing to stare at the pilot, your mind was running a million miles a minute. What had you just done? Sure, the two of you were arguing, but that was no reason to bear your true feelings to the man. What if he didn’t feel the same? You were convinced that this had to be the case when he refused to move a muscle.

“Bradley,” you whispered, nerves showing through the shake in your voice. “Please, say something.” Your mind plagued you with thoughts of the worst-case scenario. You were fully expecting him to turn around and storm off, refusing to ever speak to you again. With tears filling your eyes once more, you pleaded one last time. “Bradl-”

Your eyes widened as Bradley cut you off in a way you would have never expected. In one fluid, sudden motion, Bradley had lunged toward you, his lips moulding softly with yours. His hands cradled your waist, holding you as if you were a delicate flower. You could have sworn you heard yourself squeak but honestly, you were too overwhelmed to tell.

As Bradley continued to kiss you gently, your eyes fluttered shut. You became lost in the feeling of his hand caressing your side. His pinky finger slipped under the hem of your top, drawing a light gasp from your lips. The kiss deepened as Bradley pulled you towards him by your waist and as your hand worked into his soft curls at the base of his neck.

A soft giggle slipped past your lips as that familiar pornstache that you were used to making fun of was now tickling your upper lip. The pilot smiled into the kiss at the feeling, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours lovingly mere seconds later. “Does that answer your question?” He whispered, causing more giggles to flow from your mouth. You could only nod, still starstruck by the actions of the man holding you.

For the second time this evening, you were close enough to the pilot that you were able to smell his breath. While the faint scent of alcohol was still present, you were now able to pick up the familiar scent of your strawberry lip gloss. One glance at his parted lips was enough for you to see the slight pink hue that your lip gloss caused him.

There was a lovestruck smile on his face; a stark contrast to the anger shining in his eyes merely twenty minutes ago. Admiration shone in his eyes as he looked down at you. While he knew that he never stated it clearly, he was in awe of the wonderful woman that you were. As he thought about how perfect you were, guilt for the way he spoke to you before began to eat at him.

He cleared his throat, needing to make amends for his actions. “Seriously, though,” He started, eyes softening as he recalled the events from earlier. “I’m so sorry for how I acted earlier. What I said was completely uncalled for and out of line.” The corners of your mouth twitched up in a forgiving smile as you reached up to stroke the corner of his mustache with your thumb. Bradley wrapped you up in his arms, rocking the two of you softly. “I love you so, so much, baby girl.”

Your hand trailed from his soft cheek to the back of his neck as he shifted the two of you, fingers once again threading through the short curls. Warm, ocean air breezed past the two of you as Bradley held you close. Behind you, the sun was setting beautifully over the ocean. It painted the parking lot with a soft, pink glow. No matter how many sunsets you had seen before, for some reason, this one was the most beautiful. It was almost as if the beauty of the sunset reflected your feelings for each other. Despite the rocky road that it took you to get here, no moment had ever seemed as perfect as this one.

Unsurprisingly, your moment of bliss was quickly interrupted by the other aviators waiting at the steps of the bar. Your friends gradually made their way closer, unable to contain their questions and comments any longer. You felt Bradley sigh into the skin of your neck before he kissed it softly, causing butterflies to swarm in your chest. With your head still tucked into his chest, you felt a blush begin to creep up your neck at the realization that your friends had likely watched the whole event unfold. Despite the flush in your cheeks, you still made eye contact with each of them, dreading the inevitable bombardment of questions that were bound to come.

Even as you stood in front of your friends, ready to explain the rollercoaster of a scene they just witnessed, Bradley’s arms remained wound around your waist. His thumb moved over the bare skin of your side softly, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “No need to explain.” Nat offered with a reassuring smile. She could sense that you were hesitant to have to explain it all so quickly. Plus, she knew that she would get the details soon enough.

Together, Bob, Jake, and Nat offered you their congratulations before turning to head back to the bar. With his arm still around your waist, you and Bradley follow your friends in sync with each other. Your still-rosy cheek rested against his broad shoulder.

Jake wasted no time in collecting his winnings from the previous bet, pumping his fist in the air as Bob and Nat each handed Jake a 20. In the back of your mind, you briefly wonder why they handed him the cash in the first place. Once the five of you re-entered the air-conditioned comfort of the bar, Jake turned to you and Bradley, announcing that drinks were on him with that familiar, shit-eating grin on his face. That alone should have been enough to tell you that there was more to the story than you suspected.

Despite the weariness in both yours and Bradley’s minds, if Jake was offering to buy your drinks, who were you to turn it down? Just as you were about to take a sip of your beer, Bob piped up. “He bet you’d screw it up,” He quipped, grinning at the mixture of betrayal and shock written on Jake’s face that instantly took over his previous cocky expression. Within seconds Bradley had smacked his arm. While he was slightly annoyed that Jake had bet against him, he was more upset about the fact that he allowed Jake to win.

Bob and Phoenix continued to laugh at Jake’s dejected expression as you and Bradley watched fondly. The aviator pulled you into his side with gentle movements and your head fell onto his shoulder the second you were snuggled up against him.

In a state of bliss, you allowed your eyes to slip shut. You could only savour the feeling of being held in the arms of the man you loved. Tucked into Bradley’s side, you couldn’t think of anywhere else you would rather be. Turning his head, Bradley pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, which caused a glowing smile to blossom on your face. A giggle escaped you at the feeling of his mustache tickling your skin, leading to a smile mirroring your own taking over his sculpted features.

Sure, it had been a rocky road to get here, but you would do it all over again if it meant feeling like this for a moment longer. You loved Bradley, and it brought you more relief than one could ever imagine to know that he felt the same for you.

Simply put, you were ecstatic. Ecstatic that you no longer had to keep your feelings a secret. Ecstatic that you could see a future blossoming between you and Bradley. Despite not knowing what that future held, you were positive that you and Bradley would be together for a long, long time to come.

However, one thing was for certain; Bradley Bradshaw was the most oblivious man you knew.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open. I’m excited to be back <3

535 notes · View notes

justfandomwritings · 2 years

Text

Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

Summary: In your most vulnerable hour, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. "Who did this to you?"

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you' aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.)

Notes: This is just an excuse to write the who did this to you trope. This is self indulgence at its finest.

“Who did this to you?”

Your head shot up a little too quickly at the unexpected company, and the world began to spin all over again. With a groan, you laid your head back on the bartop, hoping the flat wood would help the world right itself faster.

You’d been lying there with your forehead pressed on the cool wood of the bar, sitting directly under an air vent, for the better part of thirty minutes. The Hard Deck’s AC was working overtime to keep the heat outside, and the rush of cold air blowing down the back of your shirt was doing wonders for your sore arms and back.

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

You hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Everyone else was down at the beach. You thought you’d have some time alone to lick your wounds and cover your bruises and emotionally recover from what had happened that morning. Penny was too busy watching Maverick. The aviators were too engrossed in a new game Maverick had invented called dogfight volleyball, and the bar was technically closed at this hour. You thought you could slip by and start your shift sight unseen.

“Hurricane,” The voice was firm, but not demanding. Underwritten with a tone of concern that was very uncommon to that particular voice. “Hurricane,” it repeated.

You opened your eyes and rolled your head to lay facing the voice’s direction and made eye contact with Hangman.

You knew it was him before you turned, but for some reason you still did.

Backlit by the sun’s rays bouncing off his perfect golden hair with an open button-up billowing in the sea breeze, he stood in sharp contrast to your current state. Like an angel stepping out of heaven and into hell.

In some ways, this was your worst case scenario. Hangman was definitely not your favorite pilot and was very close to your least, and he was certainly not your friend. You were at best frenemies and even that was a stretch. The pair of you had been constantly bickering and making snide comments behind the other’s backs since practically the moment you made eye contact with each other. He intentionally made your life difficult behind the bar, and you rang the bell on him on multiple occasions.

He was responsible for everyone calling you Hurricane. You’d come crashing through the doors on your first day working at the Hard Deck with a torrential downpour following you in from outside. A drowned cat would’ve looked less soaked through and pathetic than you, and the moment Penny introduced you to the squad, he’d made a snide remark about the Hurricane you brought with you. The rest was history. It became like a callsign to them; your name long forgotten by most. The only pilot who didn’t call you Hurricane now was Bob, and it ground your gears just a little bit more every time you heard it.

On the other hand, this might’ve been the best case scenario. Hangman wasn’t someone who was going to make a big show of this. He wouldn’t rush down to the beach and ask for help. He wouldn’t fawn over you or ask you if you were okay a million times. He wouldn’t expect you to cry on his shoulder and incessantly pick at you until you broke down.

“Who did this to you?” Hangman took a step in from where he’d frozen in the door out to the patio.

His expression was like his voice, hard and firm with undertones of the worry that anyone would be feeling in this situation. Hangman wasn’t the nicest guy you knew, but you knew from the other pilots stories of the many times he’d saved their lives that he wasn’t evil, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d at least be somewhat concerned even if he didn’t care particularly for you.

“You already know who.”

It was true. Devin had been in the bar about once a week for the last six months that you’d been dating. He’d made the rounds through the aviators, none of whom particularly liked him but all of whom had been polite enough not to say anything… except Hangman.

The second Devin left after his first introductions, Hangman had made his distaste known. ‘Something’s off about that guy,’ he’d said before the door even closed. Phoenix had teased him about being jealous that his snarky banter was no longer the center of your world, but you’d seen it for what it was. A combination of being angry he wasn’t the center of attention and looking to defy you at every turn that was a uniquely Hangman blend.

Hangman approached you slowly, taking one deliberate step at a time. Every step with such obvious forethought that it gave you the time and the option to back away. A detail you wouldn’t have expected from such an ego-centric man.

You didn’t back away. Hangman was a lot of things, most of them negative, but you could say with absolute certainty that you weren’t afraid of him. For all the times you’d yelled at him, you’d never been scared of his physicality, and for all the times he'd yelled at you, his hand had never so much as twitched.

Standing beside you, under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights that threw your skin into sharp relief, Hangman had a full view of the damage.

“That fucker,” his voice was a harsh, raspy whisper, “I’m gonna kill him.” His hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Flat, open palmed and always within your line of sight, he reached up and stroked his fingers along your cheekbone with a feather-light touch.

“I already dumped him.” You don’t know why you felt like explaining yourself to Hangman of all people, but maybe it was the determination in his eyes. The way he stared down at your cheek like his eyes could will the twing of pain away.

Hangman gave a half-hearted, inattentive nod. “That’s certainly a start.” He looked like gears were turning in his head, like he hadn’t given up on his first idea.

A flood of memories came back to you.

‘The only active duty pilot with a confirmed air-to-air kill.’ Coyote, introducing Hangman.

‘We call him Bagman, cause he’ll kill anyone and get anyone killed. He doesn’t seem to mind.’ Omaha commenting on Hangman’s aim at the dartboard.

‘That’s his second air-to-air kill.’ Bob, telling you what he could about the mission they’d just come back from.

‘Hangman’s deadly in the sky. I wouldn’t wanna cross him.’ Rooster, finally being honest about what he thought of Hangman, after the blonde saved his life.

Hangman had killed before, and in his line of work, with his level of skill, likely would again. He definitely didn’t mean what he said, certainly not literally. He wasn’t about to rush out to his truck and go hunting Devin in the streets, but it wasn’t something he of all people would say entirely jokingly either.

You slowly sat up in your chair. The world was spinning less now. Whether that was because the nausea was finally passing or because Hangman’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you in the moment, it was unclear. “I appreciate your concern,” you hedged, “but really, I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

Hangman snorted and let his hand fall away. “Obviously you can; you already kicked his ass to the curb on your own. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill him for good measure.” Hangman hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over.

You probably should’ve objected to his comfort level invading your workspace. Penny was very explicit that no one was allowed behind the bar who didn’t work there and even more explicit that that applied to all naval aviators. Somehow, though, you doubted Hangman would rat you out, at least not today.

“Are you going to tell Penny?” Hangman mozied around behind the bar, picking up a rag and tossing it over his shoulder. He was looking for something, but he didn’t seem inclined to ask. You weren’t any more inclined to offer.

It would’ve broken whatever moment was passing between you. Caring? Camaraderie? You weren’t sure, but there was certainly some level of understanding that remained largely unspoken.

Hangman found what he was looking for in short order anyway. He flipped open the ice cooler and pulled the rag off his shoulder, filling it with a scoop of ice and tying the ends.

“Not now,” you were disinclined to bring it up to Penny.

The Hard Deck was a Navy bar, and Penny had made a lot of powerful friends. Hell, you had a lot of powerful friends if you were willing to use them; one of them, or at least a powerful person who was willing to help you, was standing right in front of you. You could only imagine what would happen to Devin if you told anyone. All of it would be deserved of course, but you doubted most of it would be legal. And that really wasn’t what you needed right now, and you weren’t ready to have that conversation anyway.

“Hold this to your cheek. You wanna get the swelling down,” In a reversal of roles, he leaned against the bar in the place that was normally yours and offered you his makeshift ice pack.

You took it with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Hangman nodded with a thoughtful expression, watching your hand raise it to your cheek, “I’ll let you tell them in your own time, but you’re going to go to someone to help you through this until then… professionally.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t leaving room for debate. It was an order as plain as any he got in the Navy.

You nodded wordlessly against the ice pressed to your face. It was a reasonable expectation, a reasonable request. You weren’t sure if you needed it or not, but you supposed that was the point. You weren’t sure. Better to go too soon than too late.

“Good,” Hangman sighed, seeming relieved, and pushed off the bar. His muscles flexed with the motion, bulging against the short sleeves of his open button-up shirt. They remained tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth gritted behind his closed lips. “I’ll keep him out of the bar.”

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-”

“He hurt you.” Hangman cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked serious, deadly serious. “That’s all I need to know. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Before you had the chance to respond, not that you were entirely sure how you would, Hangman’s eyes left yours, staring at something over your shoulder out towards the beach.

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

Your head turned, and you saw the outlines of Penny and Mav, arm in arm, making their way back to the bar. “Yeah,” you replied, “But my shoulder is a different story. I need to go find…”

Hangman jerked his button up off his shoulders and balled it up, tossing it across the bar to you. “Go quick. Put this on.”

“Hangman, I-”

“Go.” Hangman urged, and you ran off before Penny could see the two of you.

—------------------------------------------------

Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you didn’t have time to check it.

You thought you knew what it was. Phoenix demanding to know why one of Jake Seresin’s shirts was wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman’s weren’t as distinctive as Bradley’s, usually solid colors with a barely-there logo on the pocket. None of the guys had noticed you were wearing it, but you knew Phoenix had the moment she came back in from the beach. She’d shot you a disappointed, skeptical look and immediately begun whispering to Bob as they walked away with their drinks.

Penny hadn’t been much better. She hadn’t identified which pilots’ shirt it was like Phoenix clearly had, but she was two steps away from asking when the evening rush began to pour in without any sign of slowing down.

The Hard Deck was slam-packed, and none of the bartenders had a second to spare. The newest class of TopGun recruits were graduating within a week, and it seemed that everyone had turned out for the upcoming occasion.

The bar was crowded with faces new and old. All of the graduating pilots were scattered around, and most of their instructors had made their way in at some point. Some of the pilots had families, wives and girlfriends, who had flown in and accompanied them to the bar that night. There were more than a few old friends in town to visit or siblings using the graduation as an excuse to get away.

Even most of Mav’s squadron was there. Penny’s old flame had claimed a spot by one of the dart boards, and his lieutenants were all taking turns trying to dethrone Hangman as the king of darts. Normally, they would have migrated to the pool tables by now, but the bar was too crowded for even TopGun’s finest to leverage their way into skipping the line to have a game.

One of the soon-to-be graduates hunkered down at the bar, some asshole who was billing himself as the new and improved Hangman, kept snapping his fingers at you to try to get your attention from behind the bar. You were dangerously close to ringing the bell on him the next time he did it, and Penny’s fingers were clearly itching to do the same. Tragically, neither of you thought that was a very good idea. Tonight might’ve been the one night where it was simply too busy to ring the bell.

There were so many people you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies pressing in around you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t bolt from the claustrophobia.

Marg after marg. Old fashioned after old fashioned. Beer after beer. The line never seemed to stop, and it was taking its toll on you. Tonight was simply not your night.

“Go,” Penny’s hand touched your shoulder and made you jump, spilling some of the tequila shot you were trying to hand off. “I’ll clean that. You look like you need a break. Take five.”

Normally on a busy night, you would’ve protested, insisted you could hold down the fort and done your best to help Penny push through the rush, but not that night.

Your shoulders slumped in relief, and you ducked under the gap in the bar without much of a second thought, pushing your way through the people towards the door to the kitchen. There was a ‘broken’ stool by the door to the kitchen that was in fact not broken at all but had a sign taped to it that said it was specifically so it was open for when workers were on break. The seat provided some much needed relief for your aching feet and even more aching shoulders.

Shaking cocktails was really aggravating the bruises just beneath the button up wrapped around your shoulders, and you found yourself hurting almost twice as much as normal this shift. That might’ve been why you felt like you were moving in slow motion the whole time. That or the sheer number of people had simply made the task seem insurmountable.

You were just closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall when your phone in your pocket buzzed again.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision to check it, more habit than anything else. And really, you hadn’t expected it to be anything that bad. You hadn’t heard from him all day.

But there it was. His name. His name a half a dozen times over the course of your shift. Each text progressively more urgent and pressing than the last.

‘I’m still coming to pick you up from work.’

Bile rose up in your throat, and you suppressed the overwhelming urge to bolt. The room was suddenly too hot and too crowded, and there were too many faces. Faces you recognized and faces you didn’t. A wash of faces that was the perfect place for him to hide, to wait, to lurk around for the opportune moment to reveal himself.

You couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with this. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not alone.

You did the first thing that came to mind.

It was stupid really. You couldn’t explain why it occurred to you, why you acted on it so immediately, why you thought it was a good idea at all. It probably wasn’t; it could just as easily have backfired in your face as anything else. But your gut told you it was what you should do. Really, your gut didn’t so much tell you as wrench you in that direction with an undeniable force.

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?”

Hangman was an easy man to find, even despite the crowd, strutting around the dart boards like he owned the place, which he very nearly did, rubbing the other pilots noses in his shots that were somehow better blindfolded than theirs were with sight.

You interrupted him boasting loudly to Fanboy and Payback about how he didn’t even need to practice. Perfect marksmanship just came naturally to him. The rest of the pilots were all gathered at the high tops near the darts boards, mostly rolling their eyes. They were having some kind of tournament, or rather a competition to see if anyone could take Hangman down.

Payback seemed almost too happy for the interruption, but Fanboy was a bit more perceptive, at least at the moment. Fanboy’s eyes darted away to Phoenix’s table, and you saw the jerk of his head when he caught her eye. Funneling the female aviator’s attention in the direction of what was unfolding.

You, wearing Hangman’s shirt since he disappeared for half an hour earlier that day, asking to talk to him alone near the end of your shift. You knew exactly what it looked like.

“Sure.” Hangman’s tone was completely casual, not giving anything away, but when his back turned on his companions, his eyes were burning. You quickly looked away from his gaze and led him from the group.

“I wasn’t checking my phone.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth the moment he was out of the others’ earshot. You didn’t even bite your tongue long enough to turn around. “He’s been texting me my entire shift. He was supposed to be my ride home tonight, and I think he might show up soon.”

When you faced Hangman, you knew the panic in your voice and in your eyes was painfully obvious. Now that you were semi-alone with him, with someone who knew, there was no hiding how much it jarred you. Your hands fumbled with your phone trying to show him the flood of texts you’d gotten, unnoticed, over the last two hours.

Hangman didn’t look down even as you turned the phone to show him. His jaw was already clenched; his expression was agitated, visibly angry. His eyes weren’t looking at you or the phone. They were searching the faces in the crowd similar to the way yours had only moments before though far more thorough. The honed, trained eye of a military fighter pilot meticulously picked through the crowd for its target, finding nothing.

“Could you…” You hesitated to ask. It was such a ridiculous request. Just yesterday, Hangman would’ve been your absolute last choice to be in this position with; you would’ve risked handling it alone before asking for his help. But here he was. The only one who knew. The first one you asked. “I’ll give you a round on the house for it. I just… Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t want to stumble on him alone.”

Hangman didn’t hesitate or pull his eyes from where they continuously scanned the crowd, as if his gaze alone was enough to keep a threat at bay. “No beers required, Hurricane.” The words seemed to be coming out of his mouth even as you offered. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do the minute you told him the problem. “Wait here a sec? I’ll handle it.”

Hangman walked the short distance over to the bar, glancing back over his shoulder at you every few steps like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared, and flagged down Penny. Something on his face must’ve told her it was urgent because she forwent several regulars and big tippers demanding drinks to beeline towards him. He leaned over the bar and whispered something in her ear, gesturing back in your direction.

Penny looked concerned, and she nodded along with what Hangman was saying until he turned to leave.

“If Penny asks,” Hangman put a hand on your shoulder, a firm grip holding you to his side as he led you through the throng of people towards the exit, “a guy was bothering you, and I drove you home cause you were scared of him.”

“Not entirely a lie,” You mumbled, shifting closer into Hangman’s side.

No one tried to stop you. No hands reached out for you. No one called out your name. You made it through entirely unscathed. You could feel eyes on you, but they didn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You doubted, highly, that they were Devin’s. More likely, Hangman’s squadron were watching him retreat from the bar with you under his arm without so much as a goodbye. More likely, they were plotting and planning the questions they were going to hound the two of you with the next time they saw you. More likely, Phoenix was pointing out to everyone that you were wearing Hangman’s shirt.

—------

“Does he have a key?” Hangman didn’t break the silence until he’d turned onto your block, until he’d brought his truck to a slow crawl, looking for your tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter house in a row of tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter houses.

Yours was pretty much the only house without a Navy flag or Navy paraphernalia of some description sitting in the yard or stuck to a car in the driveway. The neighborhood was not far from the Hard Deck which was not far from the base, and the tiny houses geared towards first-time-buyers were crawling with Navy pilots and newlywed military couples who wanted to live offbase.

You were on the second sidestreet, the third house on the left. Hangman already knew the way without instruction. Penny had conned every Top Gun pilot with a car into driving you home at least a couple times. And while Hangman was usually the pilot she was least willing to ask, he was also the only one who was guaranteed to always be sober.

His question came out very sober. His usual lilting, teasing tone had dropped off somewhere today and never fully returned.

“He did. He… he told me he lost it, but…” You both knew better than to believe that.

Hangman pulled into your driveway and flicked the truck into park and turned it off. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the hardware store, and we’ll change the locks.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Do you feel safe with him having a key?” Hangman cut you off. He was looking down at you with just a touch of condescension, so classically Hangman. Like he knew the answer already, like he knew you knew the answer already, and that you were silly if you pretended not to or refused him.

You knew where this was going, and you thought about lying, just to relieve Hangman of whatever false sense of duty or obligation he had imposed on himself by being the one to find you at the Hard Deck. But it was way too late. Hangman wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly, irritatingly stubborn. And he’d already set his mind to helping you through this. “No.”

“Then tomorrow morning I’ll change the locks.” Hangman threw his door open and hopped out of the truck. It slammed closed behind him as he circled around to your side. You made to open your door, but Hangman beat you to it. “Alarm services are expensive,” He continued, offering you a hand, “but they make door jammers that have sound alarms on them at least, and my sister bought some cheap window versions a while back that I could help install.”

You took Hangman’s hand and dumbly followed him up to your door as he rambled on about extra door locks and doorbell cameras. All options that you could pick up tomorrow for him to put in.

“That’s too much effort,” You halfheartedly protested as you spun your keys around trying to find the one to your front door.

There really weren’t that many keys. There were a couple to the Hard Deck, one to the shed where Penny kept beach supplies, and one to Devin’s place that you hadn’t returned. They were all distinct shapes and colors, but you couldn’t seem to focus long enough to find the plain silver key to your own door. Maybe because you knew there was another one, exactly like it, somewhere across town at that moment.

“Not if it makes you feel safe.” Hangman leaned back against your door frame, his eyes skimming up and down your block as if he was still on alert in the crowded bar, still looking for signs of trouble, signs of him.

“Would you…” Your words trailed off as you watched his darting eyes. The question came bubbling up before you could stop it, before you even really thought of it. It was less a question and more a response to his vigilance, to the thought that his vigilance might be warranted and necessary.

“Would I…?” Hangman didn’t let it go. His eyes turned to look at you.

You chewed at your bottom lip, debating if it was worth asking, debating if it was necessary.

He probably thought it was, if his mannerisms were any indication, if his talk about alarms was any indication, if walking you to your door and watching your back were any indication.

“Would you come in?”

Hangman raised a doubtful eyebrow, sure you didn’t mean what those words usually meant.

“Not like that, it’s just… You’re right. He probably still has a key, and if we can’t fix it till the morning…”

Understanding seemed to wash over his face, and Hangman kicked himself up off the door jam. “If it’ll help,” he immediately conceded. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“It…” You hesitated, but only for a moment. “I think it would.”

The silence inside your home was almost palpable. It was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t have been awkward for either of you, but neither of you were tired. And neither of you seemed up to faking being tired just to get away.

Hangman sat on one end of the couch, and you sat on the other. At some point, you mustered the effort to turn on the tv. The local news was a quiet, bland drone of background noise cutting through the still air around the two of you.

You felt like you should say something. Maybe ‘should’ wasn’t the right word; maybe you wanted to say something. But either way you didn’t know where to begin.

You had only ever been alone with Hangman when he was dropping you off as a favor to Penny, times that were filled with snarky jokes and constant nagging from both of you, and earlier that day in the bar. You weren’t close. You weren’t friends. You were barely acquaintances. He was only here because he was in the right (or wrong, depending how you looked at it) place at the right time.

“Thank you,” That seemed like a good place to start. “For today, thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Hangman countered quickly. His eyes stayed on the tv, though they were clearly out of focus staring at the screen.

“I do though. You could’ve told everyone.”

“You weren’t ready for that.” He added it under his breath, countering without cutting you off.

“You could’ve left me to finish out my shift.”

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

“You could’ve left after you dropped me off.”

“He has a key.”

“You could’ve turned and walked out the door when you first saw me at the bar.”

Hangman let out a heavy sigh, not of annoyance or exasperation but a sigh weighed down with duty and concern. “No, I couldn’t.”

Your eyes met his over the center of the couch, and a breath rushed out of your lungs under the intensity in his gaze.

—-------------------------------------

You woke up in your bed, mouth open, with more than a little drool pooling on your pillow.

You had no memory of falling asleep there, of getting into bed, of going to your room at all.

You remember being on the couch, talking to Hangman. You remembered the way his eyes, intense, open, and honest, compelled you to speak. The way you couldn’t bite back the story pouring from your lips. The story of Devin asking you out, of falling for him in those early weeks, of how he changed after you committed to him. The story of what he did that night, of his buddies who sat back and did nothing, of the jokes you heard the three of them cracking as you ran from the room.

You remembered Hangman crossing the space between you and putting a hand on your arm, how cautious he was touching you, how much time he left you to pull away, how gentle his touch was against your skin. You remembered throwing yourself into his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you against his chest and rubbed soothingly up and down your back, whispering promises that that asshole would never hurt you again.

You didn’t remember anything after that. You must’ve fallen asleep in his lap.

Sitting up, you found the answer to your unasked question.

A folded piece of notebook paper sitting on the pillow next to you:

‘Thought the bed would be preferable to sharing the couch with me. If I’m wrong and you wake up in the middle of the night and don’t want to be alone, you can always wake me up. If not, I’ll have coffee ready for you in the morning. - Jake.’

As you read, his words the night before echoed in your head to the beat of a nonexistent drum as you read the note once, then twice, then a third time.

‘No, I couldn’t.’

You carefully folded the paper up and tucked it in the top drawer of your bedside table.

True to his word, Hangman was wide awake, standing in your kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee when you walked out of your room.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

Last night, in the comfort of darkness, with exhaustion clouding over your mind and his arms holding you close, it had seemed the most logical thing in the world to open up to Hangman. And with the light of day glinting through the windows, with him dressed in the button up he’d wrapped around you the day before, with him lounging back against your counter as he sipped from your favorite mug, with an overconfident air that was too comfortable for any normal person’s first time in your home… It was odd to think that feeling hadn’t changed, that you still felt able to bare your soul to him, that you didn’t feel a need to run back into your room and get changed or freshen up, that you were perfectly comfortable being seen by him like this, a tired quaking mess with puffy red eyes.

Part of you expected to walk out into your kitchen to an epiphany that you’d made a horrible mistake, that Hangman was exactly as much of a cocky asshole as you thought he was two days ago. But the epiphany never came.

“Morning,” Hangman took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. He looked casual, at peace, like this was just another day, like he’d done this a million times. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I found the toolbox in the bottom of your coat closet. Hope you don’t mind. We’ll probably need a few things if we’re gonna do anything more than replace the locks.”

“Y-Yeah,” You grabbed a mug off the drying rack and crossed the room to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot beside him, your shoulder brushing passed his as you poured. “Sounds good.”

“Hey.” Hangman seemed to immediately pick up that something was plaguing your mind. He didn’t reach out for you like last night, quite the opposite. He took a step away and turned to face you, crossin his arms over his chest, “If you want to be alone, I’ll head out. I’ll go to the store, pick up the locks, and change them myself. You can have time to yourself if you need it.”

“No,” You immediately countered his obvious misinterpretation of your mood. “I-I don’t think I want to be alone. I’m just… antsy I guess.”

He didn’t seem to fully buy it, but he let your excuse hang. “Okay then, we’ll head out when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

All day, as Hangman worked around your house first changing the locks then installing alarms then fixing a window that wouldn’t lock and then righting a wobbly chair leg that had absolutely nothing to do with your safety, neither of you mentioned the note he left or you crying in his arms or falling asleep on his lap or his quiet ‘No, I couldn’t’.

—--------------------------

You made a vow to yourself when Hangman finally left your house late Saturday afternoon. You were never going to ring up his card at the Hard Deck again. It couldn’t really repay what he’d done for you, the feeling of safety he’d brought to you in what was probably your most vulnerable moment so far on this earth, but you knew he wouldn’t want anything more showy. Hangman loved being the center of attention, but somehow you knew he wouldn’t want attention for this.

True to your vow, the next Saturday evening, Hangman was on his third beer and had, unwittingly on his part, not paid a dime.

The Hard Deck was far less crowded that night. The graduating Top Gun candidates had all flown away, and only those currently stationed at the base, mostly Maverick’s squad, and some locals remained. A few dozen patrons milled around a room far larger than they needed with maybe a dozen pressed up to the bar. Most of the dozen fell under your responsibilities at the moment. Penny had, unintentionally, abandoned you not long before when Maverick had wandered in and taken up his usual stool.

Omaha and Halo, the first aviators to arrive, had claimed one of the pool tables early in the night, and the rest of the squad had started rotating through matchups. It appeared Fritz was on a hot streak, one that was no doubt about to end as his next opponent in line was Hangman.

All seemed right with the world. The constant buzz of voices, the crooning of the Goo Goo Dolls song that Bob had selected on the jukebox, the ready flow of beer to your usual patrons. Everything was fine.

Until the door opened one last time. Not that places of business ever ‘expected’ anyone because they hardly sent out invitations to come buy beer, but you really weren’t expecting anyone else that night. All the regulars were already inside.

The door banging against the wall as it was flung open was enough to draw your surprised eyes up to the entryway.

Face lit by the sun setting over the beach through the windows on the opposite wall, he was unmistakable as he marched into view flanked by his two buddies. They immediately began scanning the room.

Your breath rushed out of your lungs, exhaling in a gust that you couldn’t hold back any more than the wind.

No, no, no. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t confront you here. He couldn’t corner you alone.

There was no time to think, no time to check with Penny if it was ok to leave your station, no time to get to the door or bolt out the back.

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

It was your first instinct when you saw the text the weekend before, and it was your first instinct when you saw him that night.

“Hurricane?” Penny called after you as, without so much as a word in her direction, you ducked under the gap in the bar and made a beeline for the pool tables.

You barely heard her, and if you did, it didn’t register.

“Jake,” his real name leaving your lips was enough to draw most of his coworkers’ attention, all those in earshot at least. You grabbed his arm the second he was within reach, inadvertently clawing his skin with your nails as you pulled him up from where he was hunched over the pool table lining up a shot.

Jake laughed and shrugged off your arm before he even turned around and saw who it was. “Hey,” he rubbed at the red marks in his skin, “I was just…”

The words died on his lips when he turned and saw the panic in your eyes. It was brimming up inside you, overflowing and choking you off from every other sensation except the desperation for Jake to understand.

He knew better than anyone that there was only one thing that could make you look like that, feel like that. His head jerked up immediately in the direction of the door, as if he could sense the direction of the impending doom.

You watched the lighthearted smirk that constantly plagued his lips fall away. You watched the light in his eyes cloud over in darkness. As his gaze went up over your shoulder to the door, where one of the three men with angry expressions and dark eyes spotted your back amongst the khaki uniforms and began moving.

Jake’s arm twisted in your grip and grabbed you by the elbow, jerking you unceremoniously behind his back. There was no time for pleasantries, no time to be nice about whatever he was about to do.

“Fanboy, stay with her.” Jake ordered over his shoulder to the nearest aviator. His gaze didn’t waiver from the three men approaching, even as he issued commands.

Most of the aviators in Mav’s squad were scattered around the room. Mav was at the bar talking with Penny and Halo. Fanboy and Coyote had been watching Hangman school Fritz, who was being hyped up by Payback. Rooster was at a table not far from the pool game talking to a pretty girl. And Phoenix and Bob were half spectating from their perch by the jukebox discussing something that had gone wrong in a training run that afternoon.

Fanboy caught you and held you up as Jake pushed you in his direction. “What’s going on?”

Jake didn’t answer. He side-stepped in front of you, half blocking you from view, and walked to the edge of the pool area. There was a buffer zone between himself and you. He was the first line of defense, and he was giving the second, Fanboy, room to react.

“You fucking bitch!” If Fanboy didn’t know what was going on before, he instantly caught on.

Fanboy’s arms tensed around yours. His back went rigged, as if a commanding officer had just called him to attention, and he curled away, pulling you back behind him and putting his body in front of you as a shield. Even with Fanboy hovering in the way, his body didn’t hide Devin’s eyes. They sought you out around Jake’s frame and over Fanboy’s shoulder; they found you huddled up behind the Navy uniforms and the fancy stars pinned to the pilots chests. No number of medals pinned to Jake’s chest could stop the chill that ran down your spine in response to the venom in Devin’s tone. You wanted to look away, but the daggers in his gaze skewered you in place, held you hostage.

You wanted to curl up and hide, preferably behind Jake... Well, preferably in a home far away from there wrapped in heavy blankets with many deadbolts between you and Devin with Jake vigilantly standing guard at the door.

Devin tried to walk straight past Jake, like he didn’t even see him. Jake wasn’t having any of it.

A thick, muscular arm stuck out across the length of Devin’s shoulders as he tried to pass, holding him back.

Devin wasn’t a very big guy. He was well toned, but he was no naval aviator. He was no Jake Seresin. Jake had about an inch on Devin, but his well built frame made up for their near identical height. Devin had never been one to hit the gym hard while Jake certainly was, and it showed. It showed in the way a single arm without so much as a brace didn’t move even as Devin walked straight into it.

If the rest of the bar weren’t looking when Devin shouted that you were a bitch, they certainly were when he glared up at Jake. “Out of the way you fucker!”

Jake getting out of the way was about the last thing you wanted to happen, and Jake seemed disinclined to oblige either. His arm didn’t move from where it blocked Devin’s path, even as Devin glowered up at him.

The staring match lasted only a moment before Devin, impatient as always, gave up and turned back to glaring at you. He shouted, unnecessarily loudly, across the minimal distance between the two of you, “You changed the locks on me?”

There was shuffling behind you and the sound of something clanging onto the pool table.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head away from Devin, couldn’t look away, couldn’t let him out of your sight. But there was the sound of footsteps as first Coyote, then Fritz, then Payback came into range in your peripheral vision.

None of them knew what this was about, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. And any idiot could tell whose side they would be on in a fight between Jake and Devin.

“She didn’t. I did.” Jake declared at a similarly loud volume, pulling Devin’s attention back on him, demanding Devin shift his focus off of you. “You got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”

Devin took a step back, finally abandoning his futile attempt to confront you in favor of squaring up to Jake.

As Devin stepped back, the trio of pilots stepped forward. Fritz approached first, joining Fanboy in front of you. Payback followed after Fritz, lingering halfway between him and Jake, a bystander ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Coyote, however, had no questions about how any altercation would go down. His hand came down as he walked up behind Jake, slapping down reassuringly on Jake's shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. Coyote flanked Jake at such a close distance that it made it impossibly clear that, if this turned into a fight, it would not be three on one.

It wouldn’t even be three on two for that matter. Devin’s buddies, who had crossed the bar with him had hung back a few feet, giving Devin the space he wanted to scream at you or confront you or whatever else he had been planning before Jake intercepted. The duo found themselves with two bar tables between them and Devin. One of which was, ever so unfortunately for them, occupied by none other than Bradley Bradshaw and his drinking companion.

Devin’s friends would be forgiven for not realizing that they were offering up the chance to divide the group in half. Bradley, per usual, wasn’t in his Navy uniform, and a guy in a faded Hawaiian shirt didn’t exactly look intimidating. At least not while he was sitting down chatting up a pretty girl.

Seeing the escalation Coyote invited, and flashing his eyes to where you cowered behind his squadmates, Rooster got to his feet with a slow, lithe push off the table in front of him and turned his back on Devin. Not even bothering to give the belligerent asshole, currently one on two against Hangman and Coyote, the time of day, he turned his entire attention to the backup Devin brought with him.

Never in your life had you been scared of any of the naval aviators, but there was something especially intimidating about the incredibly casual way Bradley put himself alone in a fight against two men. His relaxed stance, completely unbothered by the numbers game he was playing. His head, cocking to one side to crack his neck, and then the other.

“You the latest pilot she’s spreading her legs for?” Devin snarled up at Jake, completely oblivious to what was going on behind him and unconcerned by Coyote’s presence.

Jake was entirely unphased. His voice was calm and steady even as Devin’s got more and more red with each passing moment. “No, but I am a friend. And if you have a problem with her you’re gonna have to go through me…” Jake added as an afterthought, “And him,” jerking his head to Coyote.

“You think she’ll fuck you if you play hero?” Devin spat out the word fuck as if the thought of you and sex in the same sentence disgusted him. “You don’t gotta try that hard to get her to spread.”

Jake shrugged and casually dismissed the comment. “That’s really not my business or yours.”

“She is my business; that’s my girl.”

Devin jabbed a finger over Jake’s shoulder in your direction without looking away from Jake, and you instinctively shrunk further back behind Fanboy. Until you felt the material between your fingers, you didn’t even realize that your hand had reached up to fist the back of Fanboy’s uniform.

You didn’t know, logically, why you were afraid. Whatever Jake was doing, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping Devin’s eyes off of you. You were absolutely certain that Devin would have to knock Jake out to get to you, not that he could even manage that. You were also absolutely certain that even if he did, he’d still have to make it through Rooster, Fanboy, Fritz, Payback, and Coyote, not to mention the dozen Navy guys from other squads currently spectating who would jump in to assist, or Penny or Mav. There was just something about his finger pointing at you, accusing you, that made that feeling of helplessness bubble up inside you again, that made you feel pinned, trapped under his hand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

It was like Jake knew or could sense your growing bubble of fear. He leaned ever so slightly to one side, like he was simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, before standing back up straight in between Devin’s finger and you.

“Not anymore.” Jake declared firmly. “You’re already about a mile closer to her than I want you to be.”

That declaration made Devin’s lips twist up into something akin to a smirk. “I’ve been a lot closer to her than this.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed, and for the first time it seemed like Devin got to him. “I know exactly how close you got.” His voice darkened, and you could practically picture the look in his eyes, practically knew it by heart from the night you told him what Devin had done. “Where I’m from, we don’t treat women like that.”

Devin laughed humorously, heading tilting back to let the single tone ring out in the air. “Well we aren’t where you’re from. That’s my girl, and I’ll do what I want with her.”

You shivered involuntarily, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It sent a chill through you to think of Devin alone with you, doing what he wanted with you. You remembered what he did the last time he had that power over you. You couldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” It took a moment to register that Jake was the one snarling, not Devin, not even you. The word came out in a hiss between his teeth. “You’ll do what she wants. And right now she doesn’t want you here.”

For whatever reason, Devin was getting to Jake. The unshakeable, unflappable Jake Seresin was rising to a rolling boil under the surface of his skin, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. From the tone of his voice to the tension in his shoulders, to the way his fingers twitched in and out of a fist, Devin and what he was saying was under Jake’s skin.

Devin saw it; you could tell. You couldn’t see his eyes around the bodies between the two of you, but you saw his posture change, his stance open up and his chest puff out. He leaned in and sneered, “She needed to be put in her place. She looks better roughed up anyway.”

You felt their eyes on you. The squad. The whole bar. None of them were actually looking at you. None of their heads turned, but you knew every one of them was staring at an image of you in their minds. Maybe they all figured it out before. Maybe they knew when Devin walked in or when Jake escorted you home. Or maybe they didn’t know anything at all, but either way Devin just gave them confirmation.

Payback was no longer content to play the bystander. His shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence that existed throughout the bar as Jake and Devin sparred. He flanked Jake’s other side, shoulder to shoulder with him as Coyote had been since the confrontation began.

Coyote didn’t move an inch except for the hand at his side that clenched into a fist.

Jake took a step closer. But for the inch of height difference, he stood nose to nose with Devin as he said, “Where I’m from, a man lays his hands on a woman, and you take him out back and put one between his eyes.”

Devin pushed up, must’ve stood on his tiptoes to do it, to close the gap with Jake, to put himself on the same level as the pilot. “She’s mine, you fucker.” Flecks of spit, visible even at your distance, splattered against Jake’s cheek. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Devin’s hands came up and shoved Jake in both shoulders, hard.

Jake’s shoulders didn’t give an inch. His feet didn’t budge. His posture didn’t change.

Jake’s voice dropped low, so low you barely heard it. If a single soul in the bar had been focused on anything other than the confrontation at hand, if the jukebox hadn’t run to the end of its queue of songs and left the bar in silence, if any more distance had been between the two of you, you wouldn’t have heard the rough, guttural retort from somewhere deep inside Jake’s chest, “You’re really, really gonna have to make me.”

Without warning, Devin swung.

He was standing too close to Jake, almost chest to chest with the taller aviator. There was no good angle from which to strike, and his arm took a wide arc away from his body to get the necessary momentum and distance to hit at Jake with any force.

It was like it moved in slow motion, Jake’s head turned, his eyes following the direction of the swing as it approached his face.

You gasped and clung tighter to Fanboy, who blindly reached back to clutch your arm, pulling you in closer to him.

The fear, entirely for Jake, was also entirely unnecessary.

Jake’s head leaned to one side and effortlessly avoided the blow. Devin stumbled a couple steps to the side as his momentum carried him past Jake.

It gave Jake the space he needed to counter, not with a wide, slow hook around to the side of Devin’s face, but with a swift, firm uppercut to his jaw.

The connection sent a crack echoing through the bar, and Devin’s entire body went slack before he even hit the floor.

Coyote caught his arm before he could collapse, not that it did Devin any good to be under Coyote’s care instead of Jake’s. Coyote’s grip was so tight on Devin’s upper arm that you were sure it would bruise not just the skin but the muscles underneath.

Jake bent down over the other man and bent a finger up under his jaw. Devin’s head tipped up into Jake’s face without any protest and fell back to bob loosely to one side the moment Jake wasn’t supporting him any more.

“He’ll be out cold for a while.” Jake declared, glancing up to give Coyote a nod.

Coyote dropped his grip on Devin and let him crumple unceremoniously to the floor.

“Now,” Jake left Coyote to deal with Devin, stepping over the unconscious body on the floor as one might step over a puddle in the street. He ambled over to Rooster, whose presence had been more than enough to hold off Devin’s two buddies for the brief ten seconds of fighting, if it could even be categorized as a fight.

“Are you two,” Jake wagged a finger between Devin’s two friends as he came shoulder to shoulder with Rooster, “the ones she told me helped him out last week? Cause I gotta bone to pick with them too?”

“No, we didn’t!” The shorter of the two declared loudly. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

Jake’s head turned to glance back over his shoulder, and for the first time since Devin confronted you, you made eye contact with Jake.

His eyes were hard, cold, unfeeling. He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t upset or worried or fearful or any of the other emotions you felt warring inside of you. The mask was back on, the unflappable exterior that only you had seen beneath before tonight. He wasn’t waiting for them; he was waiting for you. A good soldier, waiting for his orders.

Imperceptibly to everyone but Jake who was watching you like a hawk, you shook your head. This had gone on long enough already tonight. You just wanted it to be over.

“Well then,” Jake turned back to the two friends in tow. “Why don’t you take your buddy and get out of here?” Jake stepped close, towering over the shorter one as he added, “Tell him if he comes back round here to bother her again; I will spend the rest of my life making sure he’s too afraid to even look at another woman.”

Beside Jake, Rooster began casually cracking the knuckles of his fist one by one, presumably for emphasis.

There was a dull thud that drew the quad of men’s attention back towards Devin.

Payback was squatting over the unconscious man. He’d seemingly been rooting through the other man’s pockets. The sound of his wallet dropping back onto Devin’s back was the noise that drew the men’s eyes and everyone else’s watching as a result.

Payback was waving a credit card in the air in Jake’s general direction.

“Good idea,” Jake wandered over and snatched up the card. “Call it payback for disturbing the bar tonight.” Jake’s teasing smirk was back as he used Payback’s callsign. He abandoned the group to amble back towards Penny at the bar, and his absence seemed to break the tension.

The patrons, scattered around, all began slowly turning back to their tables. The conversation was quieter, hushed whispers that were no doubt mostly about the fight they’d just watched ensue, but their eyes seemed to have drank in their fill of the scene.

Under the watchful eye of Rooster, with Coyote and Payback standing by, Devin’s two friends draped their friend unceremoniously across their shoulders. Despite the struggle they were clearly having, not a soul offered to help as they stumbled under his weight out of the bar.

“I hope they have to drag him to the car.”

You jumped and turned your head to find that at some point in the chaos Phoenix and Bob had come up on the other side of the pool table as a last line of defense.

“Please, I hope they faceplant in the gravel.”

You let out a humorous laugh at Phoenix’s comment as your body finally slumped under the weight of the evening, resting back against the pool table with a huff of air.

“Are you…”

“Fritz, if you ask me if I’m okay, I will walk out of this bar right now.” You held up a finger to silence him.

You were not okay. You would be okay, one day; you knew that much. But that day was not today.

In the distance, like you were hearing an echo from the other end of a long tunnel, you registered the bell ringing for a free round. Your vision was tunneling too, but you could make out Jake was leaning across the bar, ringing the bell himself as he slammed Devin’s card on the bar in front of Penny.

Maverick, always present in front of Penny’s bar, slapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear, but Jake seemed, for once, thoroughly uninterested in his commanding officer.

His eyes, you thought, appeared to be focused on you. He left the bar before he even got his own free drink and headed straight back towards the pool tables.

Coyote and Rooster tried to talk to him, but he brushed him off. By the time he reached Fanboy, still awkwardly hovering in front of you, his destination was clear, and Fanboy slid right out of his way.

“Come on,” Jake held out a hand to you. “Penny won’t mind if you don’t finish out your shift.”

It wasn’t a tunnel you were looking through now so much as a camera, the lens zooming in and zooming out, narrowing and expanding your field of vision around Jake.

Jake, the only thing in the world right now that felt safe, that felt ok.

You numbly, clumsily, flung your hand out to grasp his, and as his fingers laced through yours you thought you might have a different answer to Fritz’s question, not that you’d ever voice it.

—————————————

“Thank you.”

It was about an hour after you and Jake had left the bar.

He’d walked you out the back door of the Hard Deck and down the beach for the better part of half an hour before the two of you wordlessly agreed to find a comfortable spot to sit down in the sand.

The silence had been more comfortable than you ever thought silence with Jake could be. Every time he’d driven you home from the Hard Deck, he’d felt the need to fill every available moment with some kind of noise, compulsively turning up the volume on the radio or making snarky, sarcastic commentary about anything that passed by the window. Silence was not Jake Seresin’s forte.

Yet the silence between the two of you had felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in understanding. He already knew what happened between you and Devin; the hard part of that explanation was over. He already knew why Devin was there that night, what must have prompted him to show up, what he was hinting at in front of the whole bar. He knew nothing else about you, but he knew this, knew every detail of the most painful moment of your life, and he accepted it without question, gave you what you needed without question, helped you without question.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing for once in my life, Hurricane.” Jake murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

You wished you could deny that, say that Jake was a great guy, say that he always did the right thing or that he was a good man. But the truth was he often wasn’t. He was flawed, deeply so, rude when it was uncalled for, inappropriate when the moment was serious, lewd when he should have been respectful, confrontational when he should have been kind. He was as flawed as any other human being, maybe more so.

But when you needed him he was there. When no one else was there, he was there. And that, to you, forgave any multitude of sins.

“What did Mav say to you when you left?”

“What?” Jake did a quick double take, looking down at you beside him. “Oh,” He chuckled to himself. “He said, ‘Good man, no push-ups tomorrow when I shoot you down.’”

“Well,” you smiled, “I owe you a lot more than a few push ups.”

“You owe me nothing.”

You squeezed his hand, his fingers which had been laced in yours since he led you out of the Hard Deck, “How about a second chance? If I remember correctly we didn’t get off to the best start.”

Jake smirked, “Not a chance am I starting over. You’re still my Hurricane.”

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iceman-kazansky · 27 days

Note

Hi there Ice!! I saw your writing challenge and I think that’s such cool idea. Love that you try to get back into writing. I looked through your rules and prompts. If you’re up to it, I would love to request something with Mr Jake "Hangman" Seresin. I know it’s a bit strange, because my blog doesn’t normally revolve around top gun, but I’m a fan 🙈 So going through your prompt lists I found the one with "you can hold my hand, if you want” really adorable or one with the “Shy/Easily Embarrassed Character Getting Flustered” if you want. Whatever you’ll feel more comfortable writing about. Let your creativity flow. Honestly I’m happy with anything. Thank you for your dedication and for maybe considering this request. Take care 🩵😊

Not As Bad As I Thought

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: @sweetxvanixlla

Request: See answered ask above

Pairings: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x f!reader

Warnings: Nothing really that I can think of. I want to tag this as soft!Jake, as he's a little less cocky in this. Jake is mildly flirty. Mild mention of large crowd.

Word Count: 1235

A/n: Saw this request and immediately began brainstorming what to write. In the end, I came up with this! Hope this didn't take too long for you and that it's curated to your liking, enjoy!! :)))

Taglist:

@footprintsinthesxnd @inglourious-imagines

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

It was a relaxing day. A stark contrast from the gruelling training the rowdy group of young aviators had been enduring in preparation for a very important mission. When someone had heard of a midway coming to the nearby town, word was quick to spread amongst the bunch.

Now here you were, standing with the group of young pilots, the sounds of the midway loud around you. Mostly everyone had attended, with the superior officers being an exception.

It was quite crowded as you walked among the rambunctious group of pilots, everyone wanted to do different things, there was a few minutes of banter and debate but before you knew it, everyone was splitting apart, going off on their own or in pairs. You hardly had time to react before suddenly it was just you left standing alone while the rest of the group dispersed. Or so you thought.

“Well, they sure all left in a hurry.” A familiar voice sounded beside you. Your gaze snapped to find none other than Jake Seresin still by your side, staring at you with a small smile on his face and a sparkle in his emerald eyes.

Simply humming in agreement, you nodded, “Yeah.” It was strange to have none other than Jake left by your side. Ironic, in a sense he didn't share that same ability to stick around long in the sky.

“Well, seeing as it’s just us, do you want to stick together?” He said, a hopeful smile stretched across his face.

You contemplated your options. You didn’t really want to be alone, and you wouldn’t mind somebody’s company. Even if it was Jake's. “I’d love to,” you finally responded.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

You and Jake had spent the last few hours running around and doing nearly every ride possible, and now as it was getting later, you were heading to grab food.

You’d have been lying if you said that it hadn’t been fun hanging out with Jake all day, the normally cocky, and often irritable aviator had peeled back a few layers and shown you just how enjoyable he could be. The entire time you’d been jumping from line to line, ride to ride, you’d been laughing and conversing. Talking with Jake seemed to flow so smoothly, and you realized you had a little more in common than you ever imagined. Admittedly, simply being with the emerald-eyed aviator all day seemed to have given you more enjoyment and glee then you’d had in quite awhile.

Up ahead, the crowd seemed to thicken, making you feel a little anxious. “That looks.. difficult,” You said to him, eyeing the crowd warily, “Do you think we can get through? I don't want to lose you.”

Jake slows and looks down at you, “I think we can. You can hold my hand, if you want,” he offers with a shrug, extending his open palm for you to take.

His offer takes a minute to set in. The Jake Seresin was offering you to hold his hand in a crowd? The Jake who left his wingman's hanging –his callsign a delineation of that– extended his hand for you to take? Baffled, you hesitantly took his offer, holding onto him as he began pushing through the crowd.

With Jake doing an excellent job of navigating the crowded fair, he managed to guide you both to a stand selling the food you wanted, and you now waited in line patiently.

You ordered and sat down with him, eating and drinking while you both continued talking animatedly amongst yourselves while you hurried to get back to the rides.

The hand holding hadn’t slipped your mind from earlier as you got back up and began pushing your way back to the rides. It seems as if it didn’t slip Jake’s either, seeing as like clockwork he extended his hand for you to take as you passed through another dense crowd.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

It seemed as if the day was coming to an end all too soon. The sun had set long before and the midway was closing as the evening hours stretched on. Jake walked beside you in silence, one that was oddly comfortable and light.

As you reached the parking lot and both your vehicles came into view, Jake turned to you suddenly, “Well, this has been an enjoyable date.” He said with a teasing smile plastered on his face.

You were certain you'd gone beet red as an overwhelming blush took over your features, “I– this wasn't a–” You stuttered, trying to object. Curse your inability to speak under sudden pressure.

Gently, Jake cut you off with a snicker, “Relax, sweetheart. I was joking.”

Sighing, you smiled at him. He was still that ever-flirtatious aviator you knew while flying. The conversation quieted down after that, Jake only piping up to offer walking you back to your car.

A few more minutes of walking and you now stood at the driver-side door of your vehicle. Hesitating, your hand hovered over the handle for a few moments. You realized you didn't want this to be the end. You wanted more things with him like this. Facing Jake, you spoke up, “Today was probably the most fun I've had in awhile. Maybe we could do something like this again?”

Your voice had been a little hopeful, hinting even. You wouldn't object if you and him did things like this more often. Whether you called it a date or a simple ‘hanging out.’ The whole day had been enjoyable for you. It felt oddly intimate as just-coworkers spending a day together. You'd learned so much about the man outside of a cocky, sometimes stuck-up aviator.

Jake smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice the subtle glint of something in his eyes. What it was exactly, you weren't sure. “I'll take you up on that offer,” He replied, “How would dinner at my place next weekend sound?”

“Sounds great.” You agreed, smiling back as you opened your door and got in. Jake went back to his own car and you were left to drive home by yourself. The whole way home you found yourself beaming uncontrollably at the prospect of a date with Jake. As you arrived back home, you decided that maybe Jake wasn’t that bad, after all.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #Jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #tgm #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #jake hangman fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #top gun fanfiction #♤ Requests

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roosterforme · 6 months

Text

In the Line of Duty | Rooster x Reader

Summary: During preparations for a dangerous mission, Bradley finds comfort in writing his thoughts down for his unborn child to eventually read. There's always a chance that he won't make it back, and his final plans involve safeguarding the most important item he brought on his deployment with him.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, pregnancy topics

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was in the same tiny room with the same seven people for the nineteenth day in a row. He was sweating, too aware of his surroundings. He could hear Reuben breathing next to him. He could hear Admiral Turner's wristwatch counting off every second. He could hear the plans being laid out, but he could barely focus on them.

"The political climate is rapidly changing," the admiral said. "This bombing run is essential, however it will undoubtedly lead to a hostile environment for our allies. Getting the timing just right is essential to a successful mission."

He'd been telling the aviators the same things for days, and while Bradley knew somebody's best interest was at heart, he wasn't really sure it was his. Or Reuben's. Or anybody's in this fucking claustrophobic room. But what choice did he have but to sit here in his flight suit, reeking of jet fuel until he was released?

"Also," Admiral Turner said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "we'll be keeping a close watch on the weather. If you fly this mission, it's going to be a rough takeoff and an even rougher landing. And that's not even mentioning the elements you'll encounter in the air."

Bradley could feel it. The aircraft carrier was a massive vessel, nothing like a cruise ship or anything smaller. It was built to withstand typhoons and hurricanes, but he could still feel it. The movement was getting worse by the hour now. There were deckhands and petty officers walking around with seasickness bags. People were running from the mess hall left and right. The only thing that could be said of this small group of aviators in this tiny ass room was that professional fighter pilots had all traces of motion sickness eliminated from their bodies during flight training, never to be heard from again. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he could still feel it.

"And with that final precaution, I've made my selection for the three pilots who will fly when I say it's time to go." Bradley knew it in his bones even before he heard the admiral say, "Vandal. Patches. Rooster. Everyone else will remain on standby. You're all dismissed."

As he stood, Reuben stuck his fist out. "Congrats, man," he said, and Bradley reached out as well to bump fists. Being chosen was an accomplishment; Bradley always wanted to be chosen. He always wanted to perform to the best of his ability. But his thoughts were so heavy now, filled with new hopes and fears.

"Thanks, Payback," he replied, following his friend from the room and into the noisy reprieve of the cool hallway. There were people rushing around as the two of them made their way to the mess hall. "But if I have to sit in that room for another day, I'm going to lose my mind."

Reuben laughed as he started to load a tray with food. "I love how the weather is too bad for us to do any training runs, but in the same sentence, we're told to be ready to fly a mission in this. It's like they're steering us right into the worst of the storm."

They were. Bradley could tell they were. There was something strategic about the open water location, but they were absolutely heading into the worst of it. He just hoped it would clear up before he was called out on deck to fly.

"It's a good thing I haven't barfed in a Super Hornet since that very first time," he said, also piling food that he knew would taste like cardboard onto a plate.

"This shit sucks," Reuben muttered, biting into a roll once they reached an empty table. "We got any more of your wife's cookies back in the bunk?"

Bradley smiled as he looked at the questionable meal in front of him. "A few." He bit into the steak and grimaced. Everything you cooked at home was better than this. He'd trade his whole plate of food right now for half of a grilled cheese sandwich made by your hands. Just thinking about it had his stomach growling louder. "You already ate most of them."

Reuben popped another roll into his mouth and chewed it up before saying, "Rooster, you've got a hot lieutenant commander who can cook for a wife. And a baby on the way. Come on, man. The least you can do is spare some more of those cookies."

Once he let his thoughts drift, Bradley knew it would take hours to get focused on his job again, but he couldn't help it. When he left home, you looked the same as you always did. You'd been complaining about your weight gain and bloating for weeks, but you looked just perfect to him. He wanted to get back home to see if you had a bump yet. He wanted to get home and talk to the Nugget. But he'd already been gone for three weeks, and he hadn't been given a single chance to call or FaceTime with you.

He hated having no idea how your most recent doctor's appointment went. There were probably new ultrasound photos sitting right on the kitchen counter, but it could be weeks before he got to see how much the Nugget grew since last time. He should be a home, catering to your every whim and building the massive jungle gym for the backyard.

"Are you excited?" Reuben asked, breaking through his thoughts. "You've got what, like five more months to go before you're a dad?"

"One hundred and eighty-six days until the due date," Bradley replied with a grin. "And yeah, I'm pretty fucking excited. It's all I can think about." He tried to finish all of the food, but he set his plate aside and said, "Let's go eat some of those cookies."

An hour later, Bradley was sitting in his bunk, nibbling on the rationed baked goods while Reuben snored across the room. He took this opportunity to get out the pink and blue striped notebook which he affectionately referred to as the Nugget notebook. He'd filled half of it with his musings, and he figured it would be full by your due date. It was silly, just his random thoughts and some sporadic story telling, but he liked the idea of his kid having all of this to look at later. He uncapped his pen, jotted down the date, and started writing what was on his mind.

You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about....

-------------------------

The weather was so bad a few days later that the gym was closed. Bradley and Reuben stood in front of the locked door in their gym clothes looking at each other.

"This is fucking wild," Bradley muttered, deprived of the only activity he could think of to keep himself busy. The hallways were pretty empty at this time of night, but everything still felt more deserted than usual. The dining menus had been pared down, presumably because half of the kitchen staff was too seasick to make everything. He was starting to feel anxious. "Let's go workout in the bunk and then finish the cookies."

"Sounds good," Reuben replied. They took turns churning out sets of fifty push ups while the other ate a cookie. They did this until they were both sweating and all of the cookies were officially gone.

"Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Bradley asked, but any response was cut off by a knocking on the door. He jumped up, glanced at Reuben, and then opened the door for a petty officer.

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?"

"You requested a FaceTime call? Report to the lounge in thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, heart beating wildly as he closed the door. He rushed around the room, grinning and grabbing everything he'd need to take a quick shower.

Reuben just laughed and said, "Please thank her again for the cookies."

"Will do," Bradley replied, making a mad dash for the showers. If he did the math correctly, he figured it was between four and five o'clock in the morning back home in San Diego. He hated calling you in the middle of the night, especially when you were pregnant and exhausted, but he knew you'd forgive him. And he desperately needed to see your face and hear your voice.

His hair was still damp when he jogged along the quiet corridors toward the lounge and took a seat in front of one of the computers. He quickly entered his credentials followed by your phone number, and then he waited and waited. "Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table, afraid the call was going to ring through and then cut off. But then he heard you screech his name and saw you as you reached for your glasses while the light from the lamp on your nightstand illuminated your face.

"Bradley!" you practically screamed again, your voice scratchy from sleep. "Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, feeling calmer than he had in weeks as you juggled your phone around and tried to sit up fully in bed. "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

"No, no, no, this is perfect!" you insisted, rubbing your eye behind your glasses as you tried to stifle a yawn. "This is great."

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you insisted, and he could see the sincerity on your face. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are."

He wanted to kiss you. He wished he could somehow dive through the screen and end up next to you where you'd pull him right into your arms. His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile was soft, and you bit your lip. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his rough hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

The fact that he knew that's where they would be made him smile. When you propped your phone up next to the stove and turned on the light, he felt tears stinging his eyes. You held up one of the photos so he could see the baby, and he had to blink past his blurry vision. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

Your laughter sounded beautiful as you showed him a third one. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the baby picture away, and he could see your face again as you said, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you said, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now Bradley felt like crying for a totally different reason. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

Bradley looked at your beautiful face and the perfect curve of your cheek. He imagined a little baby in your arms with the same flawless features. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your smile was brilliant as you told him, "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

Bradley opened his mouth to say he couldn't wait to come home and spend a full day curled up with both of you. He was about to ask you to pull his UVA shirt up and let him see what your belly looked like now. But the lounge door swung open so hard, it sounded like it was going to fall off the hinges.

"Bradshaw!" barked Admiral Turner. "It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," he said before glancing back down to see your face as you started to cry.

"You have to go," you sobbed.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he promised, even though he knew he couldn't guarantee anything of the sort. "I love you."

After he ended the call, he ran back to the bunk where Reuben was already in his flight suit and pulling on his boots. It was late enough now that it had to be dark outside, so he was either about to fly another mission without the use of one of his senses, or they were sending him out at first light. Either way, he knew what he had to do, so he pulled his own flight suit on with shaky hands.

The call with you had calmed his nerves right up until the point when he had to abruptly end it. What he wouldn't give to be back home within a week. He'd drive you to the appointment in his Bronco and hold your hand the whole time. Dr. Morris would let you know if he was going to be the dad to a daughter or a son. His little Nugget.

"You ready?" Reuben asked as Bradley finished lacing up his boots.

He looked up at his friend as he stood. "Actually, no," he said, pulling his duffle out from under his bed. He started rooting through it as he said, "I need you to potentially do me a favor."

"Sure," Reuben replied, "but we gotta get to the meeting room now, Rooster."

"I know," he mumbled in response as his hands connected with the most important thing he had with him. He held up the pink and blue notebook, his voice calm in spite of his nerves as he said, "Just real quick, you see this? I need you to take this back to my wife if anything happens to me."

His friend was silent for a beat before he said, "Alright. I can do that."

Bradley's fingers tightened around the spiral binding holding together all of his thoughts about fatherhood and how much he loved his unborn child. And now his voice shook a bit as he said, "This is very important to me."

Reuben nodded and said, "Understood. I promise I'll take care of it if the need arises."

"Thank you." Bradley kissed the striped cover and propped the notebook up against his pillow, giving it one last look before he followed Reuben from the bunk.

At first light, Bradley made his way out onto the carrier deck through the rain and whistling wind. The mission was on. The weather was miserable, but the plethora of Naval officers deemed this the best opportunity they were going to get to help their allies.

It was time. Time for Bradley to trust himself. And if he failed, he trusted Reuben to take the notebook back to San Diego and get it into the hands of his wife. Then you'd take care of the notebook for the Nugget. Because if there was one person who was never going to let him down, it was you.

-------------------------

I can't deal with how much I've been hurting my own feelings with these two. Should we start a new series? Would that be okay? A tragic, new series? Thank you for reading about and loving them! Please stay tuned. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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