#Skids Off Runway

[dailyworldecho]

[alpha-mag-media]

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[ur-mag]

Tui flight skids off end of runway after landing in Storm Babet | In Trend Today

Tui flight skids off end of runway after landing in Storm Babet Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[badjokesbyjeff]

Two Irish pilots were attempting to land their jet... 

but the runway was the shortest they had ever landed on!

Paddy, the chief pilot, slammed on the brakes the minute they hit the runway.

The plane skidded, the brakes squealed, and the two pilots fought desperately with the controls until the jet finally came to a stop just before the end of the runway.

"Jaysus Seamus" said Paddy to his copilot.

"That was close! They really need to make this runway longer, we nearly went off the end!"

"Yeah, but Paddy" Said the copilot.

"Look at how WIDE it is".

[honkytonk-hangman]

When Jake Met Polly

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

Warnings: Not much, fluff, flirting and refs to sex.

Note: This is just a short little idea i've had for agesss... reader has a 'name' but it's just her callsign, Polly, as in, short for Polaris. Ty to @hangmanssunnies i wuv u <3

“Hangman to Tower, I am coming in hot.”

You roll your eyes at the all too familiar voice that crackles through your radio, a smile pulling at your lips as you adjust your microphone and briefly throw a glance over your shoulder, just to make sure your commanding officer wasn’t lingering.

“Tower to Hangman. We are appalled at the gross lack of radio etiquette on display,” you respond. Barely a few seconds pass before you receive a reply.

“Come on, Polly, we've been working together for over a year now, what’s a little informality between colleagues?” Hangman says, and despite his jet only being a blip on your horizon still, you know he’s grinning.

“A commercial airline, Lieutenant.” You deadpan, your own smile growing as his laughter comes down the line. “You are cleared for landing, proceed to runway B,” you continue, not wanting him to have to ask again seeing as his approach was cutting it close already.

“Polly, have I ever told you that you’re my favourite Controller?” He asks as you watch him enter the pattern, and click your pen.

“Only every day we work together, Lieutenant.” There’s a beat of quiet as he expertly manoeuvres his jet toward the correct runway.

“And how sexy your voice is?” He goes on, sounding vaguely distracted.

“Once again, Lieutenant, this is not a commercial airline.” You respond, twirling your hair around your finger at his compliment anyway.

He doesn’t reply, and a shock of horror flickers through you as you watch the jet touch down once, something happening with his landing gear that makes the jet shudder, then seem to bounce momentarily before it drops back onto the tarmac and skids to a stop.

“Hangman, do you require the emergency crew?!” You ask quickly, eyes scanning the aircraft as it powers down fully. You wait tensely as the canopy pops up, and a broad figure jumps out, scrambling down the ladder, and once on the ground, he bends low to get a look at the problem.

“No, Polly, thank you. Seems the landing gear malfunctioned, must’ve been in a position to sustain damage once I landed…” his voice trails off, and you watch him straighten, and greet the ground crew who’d raced over to help.

“Glad you’re safe, Lieutenant. Tower out.” You say as he begins discussing with the crew, but briefly turns up toward the tower and raises a hand.

You let out a sigh of relief and settle back in your seat.

–

Around lunch time you make your way down to the tarmac. Hangman’s jet had been cleared off some time ago, and by now you know reports would have been filed, including your own, and his aircraft will have been taken in for inspection and repairs. You’re milling around the ‘crash’ site, inspecting the scrape marks left behind when you hear footsteps from behind approaching you.

“Can I help you ma’am?”

You know his voice immediately, but you know his face too, and when you at last turn back to him you’re graced by the sight of it, bright and unworried, despite the accident he’d had earlier.

“Oh, don’t mind me! I just watched someone bounce their jet off my tarmac earlier, just checking for potholes,” you tell him wrly. It takes a moment, but his face flashes with recognition and soon he’s taking a step towards you.

“Polly?!” Hangman asks, sounding surprised. You hum in response, then round on him.

“Where is it that you found your qualifications, Liuetenant? We should probably return them,” you tease him. Hangman only takes up a stance and stretches his arms out, his flight suit stretching desperately around his biceps as he does.

“Oh, Polly, if I’d known that was all it took to get you down here, I’d have started chipping bits off months ago,” he flirts shamelessly. You smile at him but don’t speak and after a moment, he drops his arms again, crossing them over his chest instead and blinking at you curiously. “What?” he asks.

Your smile grows, and you shake your head at him.

“Your terrible lines work better when I can see you, that's all,” you inform him, making him uncross his arms and laugh.

“I would say that’s generally the case, even if a guy ain’t me,” he replies coolly. You only shake your head again, and look back out at the expanse of tarmac ahead of you.

“Thanks to you getting your pilots lisence off the back of a cereal box, we’ve ruined our Sleepless in Seattle thing,” you say with a forlorn sigh.

When you look back at Hangman he’s frowning at you in confusion.

“Our what?” he asks. You roll your eyes and turn to face him fully at last, waving your hand as you speak.

“You know, our Sleepless in Seattle thing. We talk all this time, but never meet, and if we cross paths, we don’t realise it? It’s ruined now,” you accuse him lightly. Hangman hums, and seems to think for a moment.

“I get to be Meg Ryan in this situation, right?” he says, making you chortle.

“Well you’d have to be. No way I’d leave 90s Bill Pullman!”

“Well, what if we’re not Sleepless in Seattle? What if we’re more… When Harry Met Sally?” he suggests. You squint at him.

“Have you seen that film? I’m not sure that’s the implication you want to go for…” you ask him, making him falter for a moment.

“That’s the one with the emails right?” he responds unsurely. You laugh again, and shake your head.

“No, that’s You’ve Got Mail.”

“What the hell did I just suggest, then?” 

You stare at him for a moment, and can’t stop yourself from grinning up at him.

“More or less not speaking for like ten years, but on the rare occasion we do meet up, we argue,” you tell him, watching him frown even deeper, and shake his own head this time.

“That would be kinda hard, considering you’re the voice in my head,” he says.

“Oh, so we’re doing Her now!”

Hangman fixes you with a deadpan expression and a slightly smirk.

“I don’t even want to know.”

You laugh at him, and begin walking, unsurprised when he immediately joins you, falling into step at your side. “So,” he begins again after a moment, peering down at you. “Despite playing hacky sack on your tarmac, you still gonna let me take you out?”

You falter briefly, but keep walking, this time glancing up at him.

“I didn’t think you were being serious all those times you asked me out,” you don’t bother hiding your surprise. Hangman looks back at you, squinting, and cocks his head.

“At this point I think you’ve shot me down more than Dagger combined, why would I not be serious?” he asks you, sounding oddly serious. You chuckle.

“Right, so, say if, I don’t know, Rooster got a few more hits on you, you wouldn’t leave me hangin’ would you?” you know you’ll say yes, but you can’t help but tease him a little longer.

Hangman raises an eyebrow at you and grins wide and beautiful.

“You? Never,” he says. “Mostly because I’m legally obligated to respond when you speak to me.”

You lift your own eyebrow and fix him with a wry smile.

“I like that in a man.”

Hangman laughs.

–

“I mean it, your voice is sexy,” Jake tells you once he’s sat back down from replacing your drinks. You can’t help but chortle and stir your cocktail with the straw.

“Really? Me telling you to line up and wait in the pattern gets you going?” you ask. Jake grins, but nods very seriously as he takes a short sip of his beer.

“Absolutely. I also like when you tell me about the weather and conditions, and direct me to land.”

Leaning forward with your elbows on the table between you, you put your chin in your hands.

“I liek when you flirt with me,” you begin, waiting for him to smirk at you before continuing on. “And you don’t realise my boss is in the room, so I just have to respond ‘roger’ and ‘acknowledged’ whenever you say something stupid,” you finish. Jake rolls his eyes and leans forward to meet you.

“To be fair, I’d probably be saying something stupid anyway,” he tells you.

You have to let out a laugh at that and finally lean back again.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me, are you ever gonna tell us all how to ‘bury a fossil’? You know, those things that you famously dig up and do not bury?” you tease, earning another eyeroll. Jake shrugs and copies your movements.

“I foretold Mav’s career comeback, didn’t I?”

You laugh again, but this time, get a good look at him sitting casually across from you, out of uniform and seemingly more relaxed than you’ve ever seen, or heard.

“I like your voice too,” you tell him at last, smiling a little at how he seems to preen at your praise. “Your accent is more pronounced face-to-face though, and you don’t sound like you’re performing all the time.”

Jake takes a sip of his beer and shrugs again.

“Can’t be Hangman all the time,” he says. You make a face.

“I like Hangman. He entertains me at work… but I think I like the guy who hasn’t seen When Harry Met Sally, and has a Fisher-Price pilot's lisence even more.”

Jake laughs and nods at you.

“Splash one,” he says before he leans in to you again. “Toddler’s generally have pretty good taste, in my opinion, they’re all about shapes and colours and boobs… can’t fault ‘em!”

You have to laugh and concede that at least, the two of you clinking drinks before you continue to flirt and chat for the rest of the evening.

When Jake drops you back at yours, you invite him inside, under the guise of lending him your DVD copy of When Harry Met Sally, but when he simply lingers in your living room, you start to consider other tactics.

“Jake?” you say, standing up from ‘searching’ your stack of DVD’s and facing him. “This is the part where you save me from admitting I don’t really own a physical copy of the film by having sex with me,” you inform him dutifully, watching as he straightens up and blinks at you. Then, he’s shaking his head, smiling, and taking a step closer toward you.

“I guess every good rom-com does have an earth shattering lie at its core, doesn’t it?” he steps closer, and this time, anchors his hands at your waist, tugging you into him a little more.

“Let's skip the conflict part and go straight to the happy ending, shall we?”

[seat-safety-switch]

It is very easy to forget all the infrastructure that's involved in your daily life. There is no better example than the airport, where giant cylinders filled with fuel shoot you into the clouds and all you can do is complain about how long you had to wait in the security line-up. Perhaps if you thought a little bit about all the cool stuff at the airport, you wouldn't be so grumpy about the miracle of flight.

Take radar, for instance. Once, it was a cutting-edge technology that we didn't want the Germans to know about. Now, we let the Germans have it, in their expensive luxury coupes (which are, inexplicably, four doors,) so that you don't curb the wheels when you're parking by vibes at the library. And radar keeps you alive by telling the folks driving your plane when another plane is in the area (they are extremely territorial.)

Don't forget that crazy truck that lifts up its cargo, dumping huge amounts of almost-digestible food into the plane, all so that you can have a little snacky-wacky on your flight. Someone spent their entire life, and maybe even their marriage, figuring that shit out. Maybe it has never actually worked right, and there's a team of experts straining their blood pressure every day to make up for it at the last minute. They don't want you to end up with a stack of freeze-dried Ho-Hos inside the intake of a jet engine, and you ignore their contribution to your life entirely.

Most of all, we must respect the humble luggage tug. A long time ago, one of our ancient forebears looked at a tractor and thought: "I can probably put a bigger engine on that and cut all the ass off." And they were right. The result is a snap-oversteering, unburned-fuel-spouting, high-torque monster with the ferocity of a thousand cocaine-fiending leopards. It's forced to carry your bags around so that the airlines don't have to make two trips. Someone should do something about that last one, and someone did.

I still maintain it was unfair for the police to come onto the runway to try and catch me ripping skids on the tug. Maybe even rude. They're not part of the airport. They don't respect its unique culture.

[wheels-of-despair]

Corroded Coffin v. Slip 'n Slide Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman find an old Slip 'n Slide at a yard sale, and Corroded Coffin is super excited to try it out. Contains: Summer fun, Eddie getting to live out a childhood fantasy, Evil Woman being surrounded by morons. Words: 1k

"Always wanted to play on one of these."

You put down the ceramic figurine you're inspecting for chips and look at the box Eddie's holding. Another yard sale in the next town over, so big it was advertised in the paper; the only thing that'll get Eddie out of bed before noon on a Saturday.

"You've never been on a Slip 'n Slide?" you ask.

"Nope. Rich kid thing. When it got hot, Wayne would sit on the porch with the hose, whoever was around would run through it."

"That sounds more fun than this thing, actually."

"You've been on one?"

"Once. Hated it."

Eddie hums in acknowledgment and stares at the box that's been sitting in someone's attic for twenty years with a sort of longing.

"How much?" you ask.

"It was just a thought," Eddie shrugs, putting the box back on the table. A little orange sticker reads 50¢. You reach over and snatch it before someone else can.

"We're getting it," you say with finality.

You tuck the box under your arm and keep browsing. Eddie ducks his head and grins, following you along the rows of packed tables.

You end up spending close to $10, acquiring a decent amount of records and 8-track tapes for your shared collection, but the crown jewel is Eddie's Slip n' Slide. He's so excited about it, you even set it up while Corroded Coffin practices that afternoon, so they can strip their shirts and cool off afterwards.

You'd angled it down the hill, to give the boys a little extra zoom. You brought the hose out and put it in position. You set up a lawn chair in the shade near the bottom and brought out a magazine, an icy drink, and your camera. For when the boys ended up skidding across the grass. Because every single one of them would ride it down the hill, one after the other, and think they were going to be the one to stop before the slide did. Morons.

The heat is reaching the unbearable point by the time they wrap up practice. You put your magazine down when the music stops. They file out of the garage, already stripped down to their boxers.

The boys stand at the top of the hill and cross their arms, staring at the twenty-five foot long yellow strip in the grass.

"Turn the hose on first, dummies," you call, readying your camera. Gareth scampers to the spigot and turns it on, then runs back to the slide and sprays the hose around until he's sure it's wet enough. They play rock-paper-scissors to determine who goes first. Grant wins. The boys clear the runway, and he takes a runner's stance. He takes off and makes a glorious swan dive…

and skids to a painful stop on his stomach, about three feet in.

"Fuuuuuck!" he groans, rolling over to reveal a red chest and stomach.

A collective "ohhh" comes from the trio.

"It didn't do this last time," Grant whines.

"When was last time?" Jeff asks.

"I don't know, it was some kid's birthday party," Grant grunts as he picks himself up off the yellow plastic.

"You're heavier now," Jeff observes. "It's for kids. We're bigger than kids. We just need more slip so we can slide."

"Like soap?" Gareth asks.

"Baby oil?" Grant suggests.

"Wait!" Eddie yells, running toward the van.

Jeff and Gareth lean in to inspect the red on Grant's chest. It looks painful.

Eddie returns to the group, slathering something across his chest. He squirts some in the other boys' hands, and they all coat their chests, arms, and legs. Oh, boy. They're gonna end up in the neighbor's yard.

Grant takes his position again, and takes off running. This time, his swan dive turns into a graceful slide. He laughs as he zooms down the yellow plastic. When he hits the grass, he goes sideways and rolls down the hill. You, of course, get what you're sure is an amazing photo of it.

"Fuck yeah!" he yells, standing up and raising his arms triumphantly.

Jeff goes next, sliding down the hill with a whoop and landing in a heap in the grass. They high-five and wait for Gareth, who slides down with a "yeeeeeah!" before going sideways and rolling with such force, he knocks down Grant and Jeff. You cackle and snap away, wishing you'd brought a backup roll of film with you.

They help each other up, laughing the whole time, and turn their focus back to Eddie. He looks a little nervous.

"C'mon, man!" Gareth yells.

"You got this, babe!" you encourage him.

He grins and takes off, jumping a little weird and landing a little off-center, but Eddie Munson gets to ride the entirety of the twenty-five foot slide. He pops up in the grass with a loud yell, and your heart bursts with pride. Eddie Munson finally got to ride a Slip n' Slide.

"That was awesome!" he grins, glistening in the sun.

"Let's go again!" Jeff yells.

"Should we reapply the magical slippy slidey stuff?" Grant asks.

"What was that, anyway?" Gareth rubs his hand over his shiny chest, testing to see if it's still slippery.

"Uh…" Eddie looks at you with mischief on his face.

Oh no.

"Yeah, man, that was perfect!" Grant chimes in. "We need a tub of it!"

Oh no.

"What was it?" Jeff asks, looking between you and Eddie suspiciously.

"Lube," Eddie answers.

"What?" all three boys ask.

"Luuube," Eddie repeats, his face twisting into the evilest of grins.

"OH MY GOD!" the three of them shriek at the same time, running up the hill to the hose. They fight over it, trying to wash the remnants off themselves. You take a few more photos from your lawn chair, and Eddie plops down next to you.

"Must you horrify the children, dear?" you ask sweetly.

"Duh," he answers.

You snap a photo of the wicked grin still on his face.

[ghostieeeee]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟔: 𝐌𝐎𝐌!

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

Word count: 1K

Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry if there's spelling mistakes, I'll proofread this when I wake up (it's literally 3:32 am while im writing this rn) 🥱

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

“Mom!” The half squeaky voice of your slightly younger sister catches you off guard as a set of sudden footsteps rush past your room- a shadow zipping past the slight gap under your door. “Mom!”

“H-Hey!” You yell in a panicked rush, eyes blowing wide at the realisation of her unexpected (but not entirely unpredicted) action. Your mind quickly recalls the messages you had sent to your group chat not even half an hour ago.

Your hands fumble to your bed sheets as you rip them away from your body, your legs flinging themselves out of bed as you take off towards the door of your bedroom. Scurrying down the hallway and down the stairs came with the almost stampede-like sound effects, especially as you seemed to throw yourself into the living room so willingly.

“What she's saying is all false!” You abruptly skid to your sister's side, glaring at her as your heart flips within your throat. Though, the small chuckle Eunchae let's out is beyond your comprehension as your mother turns to stare you down- arguably confused too.

“What's false?” She begins “Eunchae was just rambling nonsense about some new drink”

You blink with a half malfunctioned mind as Eunchae scoffs playfully- not wanting to earn a threatening look from the adult in the room. “Mom! It's not just a new drink!! It's a new carbonated drink that tastes like green tea!”

“Uh, ew” your nose scrunches up at the thought of a carbonated drink tasting like any type of iced tea… or coffee for the matter. “That sounds so wrong”

“It doesn't! If anything, your milkshakes are wrong!” she huffs.

“Uhm….” You furrow your brows, a sense of uncertainty plucking at you. “How does a milkshake sound wrong? It's a perfectly normal drink, and one that won't confuse your taste buds at that”

“Shoo, both of you, before this turns into an argument no one wants to listen to” your mother interjects, flicking her wrists dismissively as she eyes you both, awaiting your disappearance from her bracket of sight and most preferably, hearing too.

“Yeah, Y/n, don't you have a girlfriend to tend to”

“Girlfriend?” Your mother perks up again to the mention of a potential love interest, her dark eyes now perishing your every thought and comeback. You gulp and shake your head.

“Girlfriend? I don't have a girlfriend?” You cock your head to the side slightly, eyes adjusting to the smug expression that sugar glazes Eunchae’s smiling face. “I'm as single as ever”

“So… you're keeping secrets?” Eunchae grins, her once innocent smile turning almost sinister to you. Though, it seemed as if your sight was betraying you when a deep shaded pair of horns grew from the top of your sister's head, a thin but long tail with a knife-like tip swaying mischievously behind her.

“You're lying…” Your eyes narrow at the disguised demon, brows lowering in suspicion. Her eyes seemed to entice yours into a deep state of hypnosis as a small staring contest commenced- a buzzing line of rivalry set the runway for your directed gaze.

However, your small moment falls to shambles at the interruption of a cough- a particularly dry cough at that. “Y/n?”

“I swear down, if this is about Haerin-” You refrain from pointing at your sister, knowing farewell that your mother would drop kick you to Jupiter or some neighbouring planet at such a gesture. Scrunching your nose, you turn back to your mom,”me and Haerin are partners for that project I mentioned few weeks ago”

Your fingers squeezed together in a crossed position in hopes that your mom would believe you. Thankfully, for your stupid luck- she just sighs and flicks her wrist again- she's evidently not in a mood for anything tonight. “I'll talk to you another time about this”

“Okay, mom” you smile, glancing at Eunchae as she just blinks like a fool, half in disbelief and half in admiration. No one has ever escaped the talons of your prying mother so easily before. “Rest well, I'm going to bed now”

She only hums, resting her head back gently as she closes her eyes. “Goodnight”

A grin was quick to grow on your face. It was almost as if you had stolen Eunchae's grin with how despicable it felt upon your skin. It felt foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. “Come on, Munch, don't you have some friends to tend to?” Eunchae rolls her eyes, walking past you with a small shoulder bump, her hair unnoticeably attacking your shoulder as she does so. “That was uncalled for…” You grumble, following her back up the stairs. “Why’d you say I have a girlfriend?”

“Because I wanted to see you suffer” Eunchae informs with a small laugh following pursuit as she reaches the top of the stairs, turning to look at you as you remain two steps away from the top. “But mostly because I wanted to see you blush and get all shy at the thought of Haerin”

“b…blush?”

She nods. “Yeah… but you didn't blush as much as I would've hoped for” Eunchae smiles widely before turning and fleeing for her bedroom- leaving a half stuned you to eye her door suspiciously.

Blush?

After a moment of inexplicable dwelling, you shake your head and make a turn to your own room. You don't dare to hesitate as you flop back into the comfort of your bed, sheets still smelling fresh from when they were washed just last evening. Your head found itself buried deep into the soft of your cased pillows. A deep sigh leaves your mouth, hitting your pillow and warming the fabric slightly. Though, before an ounce of rest could officially even enter your system, your phone buzzes from your bedside table. Reluctantly, you open your phone.

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

: Dating in a high school full of love thirsty teenagers was never really something you wanted. But of course, things change- and you learnt that in more ways than one. Kim Minji, one of the more popular students. Hong y/n, probably the most invisible person alive. They couldn't possibly be dating… or maybe they could be? You never know what goes on behind closed doors.

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔���� | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: [𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍]

@jeindall777 @feisrants @thefckghost @everydayiloveyves @nasyu-kookies @justdelulumeh @feb14-kid

@ehcyps @imjeyjjey @winteresss @haechansbbg @urwyf3

@idkwhatim-doinghere101 @imahallucination11 @sserajeans @lesleepyyy @jennasluma @kaypanaq

@petruchiosstuff @pandafuriosa60 @haexrin07 @bdscsjhb @awkwardtoafault @huhyunjinwifey @haerinkisser

@ivers01 @julian-han @honestlysana @impossiblesharkcashrebel

[arealphrooblem]

Kidnapped by the Boss Part 2

synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.

CW: gun mention, threats on Civilian's life, blood mention

Part One Here

The driver had seen too many action movies, Civilian decided. That’s why he sped like a maniac down the streets, swerving between cars, skidding down right turns at the last second like he was in a spy movie. One such sudden turn flung Civilian hard enough into the side door that she cracked her head against the glass window. Pain exploded against her head, and nausea in her gut. For a moment she could hear only the ringing in her ears.

Then she felt hands clenching at her dress, at her waist, dragging her across the seat until she sprawled into the Prime Minister’s lap. His arms wrapped tightly around her, their chests pressed close enough he must have felt her raging heart against his own. He buckled the seat belt over both of them, the click of it like a key in a lock.

Dazed by pain and shock, she did not fight him. Her face pressed against the crook of his neck, the warmth of his skin, the intoxicating smell of his cologne filling her nose. She focused on the warm, woody notes of it as he barked something harshly to the driver in that foreign language.

“I can’t shake the tail!” The driver snapped back. “The fuck do you want me to do?”

She felt the sharp inhale from the prime minister against her chest, before a muttered curse. Fingers dug out her ear-piece; it was unceremoniously tossed out the window.

“There was a tracker in her ear-piece,” he said. “I took care of it. Now get us to the plane — in one piece preferably.”

Civilian’s stomach dropped at the sound of the plane. But what could she do — fling herself out of a car moving at 80 miles an hour?

In front of her the driver let out an impressive swirl of curse words from both their languages. “You should have fucking shot her in the parking garage.”

The Prime Minister responded in the other language, tone gently rebuking, almost sounding like the person she had thought he was. Whatever he said, gentle tone aside, was enough to shut the driver up for the rest of the ride.

Face pressed into his neck, his hand cradling the back of her head (a seemingly comforting gesture used to keep her blind), Civilian couldn’t see their journey or destination. She ran through all the airports around the city they knew of — both public and private. But if they suspected the Prime Minister of getting kidnapped or running away, wouldn’t the airports be the first place they look?

Maybe then, if Civilian could run, she could find some help. Or at least blend in with the crowd if they could get off the runway and into the airport itself. It sounded like an insane plan at best, but she knew if she set foot on that plane, no one would ever see her again.

For the rest of the car ride she counted her breaths. In for four counts, hold for four counts, out for four counts. The same trick she had taught the Prime Minister for his first major televised speech. Her nerves felt like one stray thought away from completely shattering and she could not afford to shatter.

The smell of the Prime Minister's ungodly expensive cologne both distracted her and grounded it. It was a scent that she had associated with the fond glow in her chest when she heard his voice. Despite everything she thought she knew about him laying crushed at her proverbial feet, the smell still comforted her.

How many times had she daydreamed some wildly unrealistic event that would lead to this near exact position? How many times had she imagined rolling her ankle in heels and limping until he swept her up and carried her so she could press her nose in this exact place on his shoulder, feel his arms around just like this?

How twisted that she got her wish in the worst way possible.

The car stopped so abruptly the seat belt tightened like a vice against them. Before the key could slide from the ignition, the Prime Minister unbuckled them and flung the door open.

“Come,” he said against her ear. “Fast and quiet, darling.”

Even in such dire circumstances, Civilian could not stop the hard swallow from imagining a different context for those words.

He nudged her ahead of him out the car door. The second her feet hit the ground, she ran. Even before she took notice of her surroundings, she ran. She saw the plane looming before her and took off in the opposite direction.

Nothing but a wide open field stretched before her. Night was rapidly descending. Logically, running away in a strange place in the dark was the kind of decision the head of security would rake her over the coals for. But panic had well and truly set in. She couldn’t do nothing and she couldn’t set foot on the plane.

So she ran.

Scraped footsteps followed behind her. The sound of it kick-started a rush of energy like nothing she felt before, the kind a prey animal feels at the sound of the hunter. She ran faster than she ever did on her high school track team.

But it wasn’t fast enough. In seconds, arms grabbed her roughly from behind and yanked her to a hard, unforgiving chest. They both stumbled backward for a second, but the person behind her recovered first. Before she could lunge from their grip, the cold steel of a knife rested against her throat.

“If you were as smart as he always bragged about, you would stand very still right now,” came the voice of the driver against her hair.

And just as movement had exploded from her before, stillness locked her limbs up just as suddenly.

The Prime Minister walked briskly towards them, until he stopped just a few inches shy of her, his polished loafers nearly brushing up against her filthy toes.

“As admirable as your spirit is, we do not have time for it,” he says, eyes dark and somber. “So allow me to make something very clear to you: you are alive and breathing right now because I allow it. That could change at any moment, with just a snap of my fingers. So if you value your life as much as I do, you will cooperate. Do you understand?”

In two years of close quarters, Civilian had seen him giddy, anxious, hangry, pouty, serene, and frustrated. Before today she had never seen him so commanding, cruel, or dangerous. It felt like witnessing a demonic possession, seeing this side of him. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be him.

“Civilian — do not make me ask again.”

She nodded, slowly, because what else could she do? His gaze softened, his hand reached up and brushed his thumb across her lower lip. The salt of his skin stung the cut on her lip as he wiped the blood away.

“Good girl. Now walk onto that plane and give us no further trouble.”

The private jet was by far swankier than any the Prime Minister had taken before. Lush carpet hugged her aching feet as he led her towards one of the wide, squashy leather armchairs with a firm hand on the small of her back. A wide screen television sat before her, mounted on a divider wall, a glimpse of a large bed peeking out on the other side.

The driver headed straight into the cockpit, exchanging foreign words with the pilot. The Prime Minister bent down and opened a small fridge off to the side.

“Water?” he offered. “Or perhaps something stronger?”

As tempting as the offer was, Civilian shook her head. The pit in her stomach had eased somewhat, but the pain in her head and now her feet had not lessened. She would probably puke whatever she ingested.

“Perhaps later, then.”

He took a bottle of water out and set it on the small wooden table next to her chair. His eyes darted over her face, taking in her undoubtedly ragged appearance. Other than his hair, which the car ride had mussed, he still looked as immaculate as when he stepped out of the hotel room.

“You’re bleeding,” he said.

Civilian didn’t notice and didn’t care. She had other, more pressing, concerns.

“What’s going on?” Her voice, so strong-willed in her head, came out shaky and weak. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Instead of answering, he walked to a small overhead compartment and pulled out a first aid kit and a rolled cloth napkin. Then he returned and knelt down on his knees before her. Civilian’s heart stuttered in her chest in both fear and twisted longing.

He pulled the ring out from the napkin and set it on the table. Engraved into the gold was the crest of the Hidden City’s flag, unchanged for the last one hundred years. Her eyes fixated on it, a puzzle piece she couldn’t make fit.

 Meanwhile, the Prime Minister opened the bottle of water and wet the cloth. He raised it to the side of her head and gently wiped away the blood that had dripped down her cheek. For the first time she noticed the small spot of blood on his shirt collar, from her lip.

A kiss.

“Sir?” she dared ask again.

He dabbed more water onto the cloth, ruined now by smears of red. “We are going to the Hidden City. As for what happens to you there . . .that depends on you. The more cooperative you are, the less likely it is that I will have to hurt you.”

Once again, the clashing dichotomy of such a sweetly familiar face saying such terrifying words makes her head swim. The Prime Minister used to rescue spiders and stink bugs from hotel rooms rather than kill them. Now he threatens violence as easy as breathing.

“Who are you?” she demanded, throat tightening with unshed tears.

“That’s the King of the Hollow City,” came the driver’s voice, stepping out of the cockpit.

tagging: @rivalriotrenegade

Part 3

[oskea93]

✶ Whiskey (3 - pt.1) ✶ - John “Bucky” Egan x OC - Masters of the Air fandom - Multi-chaptered story.

⚠ Warning: Rating 18+ ⚠ Chapter warning: cursing, historical sexism Words: 4120 A/N: Hey lovely people! So, I had to break this chapter up into two parts just because this first part was important to the story. The man of the hour will not be featured in this chapter but another one of our favorites will be introduced... (I'll let you figure out who it is!) As the warnings show, there will be a hefty dose of historical sexism so be cautious of that. Lastly, I just want to thank you all for taking the time to read my stories. I greatly appreciate each and every one of you ❤️ Taglist is available 😊

The jolt of the landing gear coming down snapped me out of my sleep, and I noticed Dominick's unease immediately. The anticipation of meeting with Colonel Huglin was clearly weighing on him, his usual easy demeanor replaced by a palpable tension that seemed to fill the air around us. Every movement he made was deliberate, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as he stared out the window, lost in his thoughts.

I could tell that his nerves were on edge, his mind preoccupied with what lay ahead. When I tried to engage him in conversation, even the simplest question was met with a sharp response, his words biting back with a quickness that surprised me. It was unlike him to be so curt, so distant, and it pained me to see him wrestling with his inner turmoil.

As the plane descended towards the small town that would be our home for however long the war raged on, I watched with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The landscape below unfolded before my eyes, revealing a picturesque scene that seemed almost untouched by the chaos of the outside world.

Small cottages dotted the countryside in a sorted fashion, their roofs glistening in the sunlight. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, a sign of life stirring within the quaint dwellings. The streets were quiet, with only a few early risers going about their daily routines, their silhouettes moving like shadows against the backdrop of the rising sun.

The vast fields of green that surrounded the town stretched out as far as the eye could see, a sea of tranquility in the midst of uncertainty. The sight of the lush vegetation was a welcomed one, a reminder of the beauty that still existed in a world torn apart by conflict and strife.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I remarked, my smile faltering slightly as Dominick remained silent, his eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. A sense of disappointment washed over me as his lack of response hung heavy in the air between us.

I turned my gaze back to the landscape outside, the beauty of the small town now tinged with a hint of melancholy. The cottages and fields that had seemed so inviting moments ago now felt like a facade, masking the underlying tension that simmered beneath the surface.

The plane roughly shook as the wheels skidded onto the runway, the loud rumble of the engine gradually drowning out the defining silence that had settled between my husband and me. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick that it felt suffocating, wrapping around us like a heavy shroud.

As the aircraft came to a stop, the sound of the engine slowly faded away, leaving behind an eerie stillness that seemed to amplify the distance that had grown between us. I stole a glance at Dominick, his jaw clenched tight, his gaze fixed on the seat in front of him, refusing to meet my eyes.

"I have to meet with Colonel Huglin right away," Dom's voice cut through the lingering silence, his tone clipped and tense. "Your actions this morning already put me 10 minutes behind schedule."

His words landed like a blow, the accusation in his voice stinging with a sharpness that caught me off guard. The weight of his disappointment hung heavy in the air, adding to the tension that already surrounded us like a suffocating fog.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to delay you," I replied, my tone clipped. “I wasn’t gonna leave without saying goodbye to my daughter – no good mother would do that,” I added, my words sharp, aimed in his direction.

In that charged moment, my words became a weapon, a way to defend my actions and assert my position. The intensity of the situation was palpable, the air crackling with unspoken thoughts and emotions that begged to be addressed.

He rose from his seat, pulling out the wrinkles of his jacket. “One of the secretaries will show you to the house, make sure you get settled while I’m gone,” he stated, his actions crisp and controlled. It was evident that he was not accustomed to a woman taking the upper hand in a conversation, as he seemed to brush aside my earlier words without acknowledging their weight. “Make sure you’re ready for dinner when I arrive,” he continued, his gaze finally meeting mine. “Don’t want to be late for something else twice in one day.” His tone carried a hint of authority, a subtle reminder of his expectations and the boundaries he sought to impose.

As he spoke, I felt a mix of defiance and frustration bubbling within me. His dismissal of my words only fueled my determination to assert myself, to make my presence known in a way that could not be ignored. The subtle power play unfolding between us was palpable, each word and gesture a move in a silent dance of dominance and submission.

He quickly gathered his things and made his way towards the exit. I watched him go, a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. The meeting with Colonel Huglin loomed large in the forefront of his mind, a reminder of the challenges that lay ahead and the uncertainties that threatened to drive us further apart.

I took a deep breath as I stood, the sound of my heels clicking against the floor of the plane echoing in the enclosed space. I distanced myself behind him, creating a physical barrier as I sought a moment of solitude amidst the flurry of activity unfolding around us. The familiar rhythm of his voice mingled with the murmur of conversation as he engaged with the men waiting at the stairs of the aircraft.

I could sense his presence commanding attention, his words likely weaving a narrative of past accomplishments and accolades, subtly stroking his ego and reinforcing his position within the group of talented individuals gathered around him. It was a familiar scene; one I had witnessed before – a display of confidence and authority designed to assert his dominance in the room.

The feeling of the warm spring air enveloped me as I descended the stairs, a stark contrast to the dreary cold of London that we had left behind. Despite still being in England, the touch of warmth and the glimpse of partly cloudy skies were a refreshing change, lifting my spirits as I stepped onto the tarmac.

“Oh my stars –“ a gruff voice sounded, breaking through the tranquility of the moment. “Dom, old boy, you didn’t say anything about bringing a movie star with you on the plane.”

The unexpected remark caught me off guard, drawing my attention to the man who had spoken. His tone held a mix of surprise and admiration, hinting at a touch of humor in his observation. I couldn't help but smile at the unexpected comparison, the lighthearted comment providing a moment of levity amidst the seriousness of the situation.

As the other man in the group, including Dominick, turned their attention towards me, a sense of surprise washed over me. The men respectfully removed their hats as they stood before me, a gesture of chivalry that felt both antiquated and endearing in such a setting. Dominick's arm found its place around my waist, pulling me closer to his side, a somewhat forced smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he introduced me to the group.

“Gentlemen-“his voice rang out, his hold on me firm. “I would like to introduce you to my beautiful wife, Rachel.” The declaration hung in the air, a mix of pride and formality evident in his words. The men before me responded with smiles and nods, their expressions welcoming as I offered a small wave in acknowledgment.

“Rachel, this is Colonel Huglin-“Dominick gestured towards the dark-haired man, his introduction smooth and practiced. “And this is his assistant, Fredrick Bard.” The men received their introduction with a nod of recognition, their eyes curious and welcoming as they took in the sight of me standing beside Dominick.

Stepping away from my husband's grasp, I took a moment to compose myself before extending my hand to each man in turn. "It's a pleasure to meet you," I said with a warm smile, meeting their surprised gazes with a sense of ease and grace. The slight look of shock on their faces as they accepted my handshake did not go unnoticed, but I maintained my composure, determined to make a positive impression.

"Dominick has spoken so highly of you Colonel Huglin," I continued, my tone genuine and welcoming. "It truly feels like I knew you before now." My smile remained unwavering, a flicker of camaraderie and connection sparking between us as I acknowledged the shared history and camaraderie that Dominick had often spoken of.

In that moment of introduction, I felt a sense of empowerment and agency, asserting my presence in a world that was still adjusting to the idea of a woman standing as an equal among men. The exchange of handshakes and pleasantries marked a subtle shift in the dynamics of the group, signaling my willingness to engage and connect on my own terms.

Dominick's hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me back into his side with a firm grip, a displeased look etched on his chiseled face. "You'll have to excuse my wife, gentlemen –" he said with a forced chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. "She's not been properly trained.”

All three men shared a hearty laugh at the joke, their booming voices filling the space with mirth. I felt the heat of embarrassment spread across my face, transforming my usually pale cheeks into a vibrant shade of crimson.

"Maybe I’m not the one who needs the training, darling," I remarked, the words slipping past my lips before I could stop them. The jovial laughter that had filled the air just moments before came to an abrupt halt. Huglin, who had been chuckling heartily in front of me, cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes darting between me and Dominick who was now staring at me in disbelief.

"Rachel –" Dominick's voice was stern, cutting through the tense silence that enveloped us. "Gentlemen –" He seemed at a loss for words, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. "I am truly sorry for how my wife is acting." His eyes bore into mine, demanding a swift and sincere apology to mend the damage my previous words had caused. "Apologize to these men right now," he commanded, his fingers gripping my wrist with a force that bordered on painful.

I opened my mouth to comply, ready to offer the apology he sought, but before the words could leave my lips, the piercing sound of a vehicle racing towards us shattered the moment.

The female driver stopped short a couple feet away from where we were standing, adjusting her windblown hair as she walked in our direction.

"Oh yes," Colonel Huglin exclaimed with a hint of relief as the new arrival approached, a confident woman with a poised demeanor. He gestured towards her with a welcoming smile, introducing her to the couple before him. "Colonel and Mrs. Nottsworth, this is Elizabeth," he said warmly, "she's my personal secretary and will be instrumental in helping you get settled in your new home."

Elizabeth nodded politely, extending her hand in greeting as she spoke, "It's a pleasure to meet you both. I'm here to assist in any way I can to ensure your transition is smooth and comfortable."

I smiled gratefully, already feeling reassured by Elizabeth's professional demeanor. Dominick looked at her with a stern expression, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Shall the women set off towards the house," Huglin suggested. "And us men can head to the main office and start discussing the next mission." Elizabeth nodded her head with a smile, choosing to start walking back to the car as I remained standing with Dominick.

I turned to face him, his eyes meeting mine in a piercing gaze, clearly still upset about the earlier exchange in front of his new colleagues. "Just give me a moment with my wife, Colonel," Dominick asserted firmly. Colonel Huglin and Fredrick nodded in acknowledgment, walking away from where Dominick and I stood.

With his back turned to the departing men, Dominick pulled me in for a brief, strained hug. His voice was devoid of any warmth as he spoke in a low, chilling tone, "You embarrass me like that again—" His threat hung in the air, causing a shiver to run down my spine. He pulled away slightly, his piercing green eyes locked onto mine. "I will make sure it'll be the last."

Feeling a mix of fear and unease at his stern words, I swallowed hard, nodding silently in response. His lips brushed my cheek coldly as he added, "Now be a good wife and get the house in order." His touch sent a shiver down my spine as he continued, his tone firm, "And remember what I said about tonight."

My body remained still as I watched him walk away with the men, acting as if the words he just whispered had stayed unsaid. It wasn’t the first time I had been threatened in that manner by him – whenever I would talk back or undermined him in front of his family or friends, there would always be a moment of reprimanding. Or in Dom’s case, a threat because it showed he had the upper hand in the marriage.

"Mrs. Nottsworth?" Elizabeth's soft voice came up behind me.

I quickly turned around, replacing my frown with a pageant smile. "Are you ready, ma'am?" Her eyes searched mine, likely catching the tail end of Dominick and my interaction.

"Yes, Elizabeth, I'm ready," I replied, forcing cheerfulness into my tone…

As Dominick meticulously unpacked his second trunk, the air in the room was still heavy with unspoken tension. His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as if each item he retrieved held a weight far greater than its physical mass. I observed him in silence, noting the furrow in his brow and the tight set of his jaw. It was clear that something troubled him deeply.

Meanwhile, I focused on getting ready for the evening ahead. I had chosen an elegant dress from my wardrobe, its deep blue fabric catching the light in a way that made it seem almost iridescent. As I slipped it on and fastened the delicate clasps, I couldn't shake the feeling that tonight would be a turning point of some kind. The anticipation hummed beneath my skin, a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Dominick finally finished unpacking his trunk and turned to me, his expression inscrutable. Without a word, he reached out a hand to help me with the final touches of my ensemble. His touch was gentle yet tinged with a hint of urgency, as if he were trying to convey something important through the simple act of assisting me.

"Thank you," I murmured, my eyes meeting his in the reflection of the mirror.

A shiver ran down my spine as his fingers lightly danced down my back, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes.The warmth of his touch seeped into my very being, melting away the remnants of tension and guilt that had plagued me moments before.

As he began to pivot away, a surge of regret and urgency propelled me to speak before he could leave. "I'm sorry about what I said to Colonel Huglin earlier," my voice wavered with genuine contrition. "I don't know what came over me to utter such words, but I deeply regret it, darling.”

His movements stilled, the weight of my apology hung in the room, filling the space between us.

"I didn't mean to hurt you or embarrass you," I continued, my words earnest and raw with emotion. "I let my anger and frustration cloud my judgment, and I spoke out of turn.”

Silence enveloped us, broken only by the soft hum of the distant sound of plane engines. His gaze softened, and a flicker of understanding crossed his features. Without a word, he closed the distance between us, his touch gentle as he reached out to grasp my hand.

"It's okay," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to my turbulent thoughts. "We all have moments of weakness, my love." His lips met my cheek, lingering for a moment as his hand rested on my lower back.

I was always the first to apologize, a habit ingrained through years of navigating the complexities of our relationship. Even when he was the one to embarrass me in front of those men, I had learned to swallow my pride and maintain the facade of the supportive, unassuming wife.

I wasn't an important colonel brought in to advise on the war strategy or make critical decisions. I was simply a wife who stood by her husband, offering silent support and keeping her opinions to herself. It was a role I had grown accustomed to, a role that often required me to suppress my own desires and aspirations for the sake of maintaining harmony within our marriage.

Just like Marigold taught me.

The dinner was filled with the laughter of men, their voices animated as they regaled each other with tales of daring fleets and distinguished honors bestowed upon them by influential political figures.

I couldn't help but notice the other wives, their smiles carefully poised as they leaned into their husbands, nodding and laughing at all the right moments. There was a palpable swell of pride and entitlement that seemed to course through their powdered faces, a facade of sophistication and breeding that masked the underlying tensions and rivalries.

As the men spoke, their wives exchanged knowing glances, their eyes sharp and assessing, each vying for a position of superiority within the social hierarchy. It was a subtle yet fierce competition, played out through veiled compliments, strategic alliances, and subtle displays of wealth and status.

In their midst, I felt like an outsider, a silent observer to a world that I did not fully belong to. While they reveled in their shared sense of belonging and exclusivity, I remained on the fringes, acutely aware of the unspoken rules and expectations that governed their interactions.

They looked at each other like dogs in a crowded cage, their gazes sharp and calculating, each assessing the other for any sign of weakness or vulnerability. This was ever present once the dinner rolled into the party in the next hall over. The band’s music blaring through the large room, those in and out of uniform dancing away.

The wives had congregated along the wall, forming a silent tableau of elegant restraint amidst the lively revelry unfolding in the center of the room. I joined their ranks, taking a seat next to a young wife who was engaged in conversation with the woman beside her.

Their voices were hushed, their laughter tinkling like delicate chimes in the air, but as I attempted to join in, I was met with a wall of icy indifference. It was as if an invisible barrier had been erected around me, marking me as an outsider in this exclusive circle of wives.

I listened intently, trying to catch their eye or offer a polite comment, but they remained resolutely focused on each other, their gestures and expressions subtly excluding me from their intimate conversation. It was clear that I had not yet earned my place among them, that I was still an interloper in their carefully constructed world of alliances and allegiances.

These women were supposed to be my allies, my confidantes in a world filled with unfamiliar faces and unwritten rules. But instead of extending a welcoming hand, they turned their backs on me, their indifference a silent rebuke that cut deeper than any overt hostility.

As I sat there, a sense of isolation and alienation washed over me, a reminder of my outsider status in this insular community of military wives. I felt a twinge of disappointment and hurt, but beneath it all, there simmered a spark of defiance and determination.

I glanced over at Dominick, engrossed in conversation with the other men, their camaraderie fueled by cigars and scotch that seemed to flow independently of any external influences.

Slowly, I rose from my seat, the click of my heels against the polished floor echoing in the room as I made my way towards the refreshment table. The clink of glasses and murmur of voices provided a backdrop to my solitary journey, a stark contrast to the lively interactions unfolding around me.

Reaching the table, I offered a polite smile to the woman who stood behind it, her eyes twinkling with appreciation as she handed me a cup. The simple gesture of kindness warmed my heart, a small beacon of connection in a sea of indifference.

"Thank you," I murmured, meeting her gaze with a grateful nod.

As I sipped the cool liquid, I let my gaze wander across the room, observing those around me as they enjoyed the night.

"Excuse me?" My neck turned to the side, meeting the gaze of a polished soldier standing before me. His hair was slicked to the side, accentuating his chiseled features, while his blue eyes shined like a crystal-clear sky.

He shuffled on his feet, a nervous movement I supposed, betraying the facade of confidence he tried to exude. The crisp uniform he wore was adorned with medals and badges, a testament to his service and dedication. Despite his imposing presence, there was a vulnerability in his demeanor that tugged at my curiosity.

"Yes?" I smiled warmly as I set the drink down on the table.

He scratched the back of his head, his eyes darting over to a group of guys trying not to stare at our interaction. "Wou-" he paused, his words stuttering. "Wou- would you, uh-" He stumbled over his words, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink in embarrassment. "Fucking hell-" he muttered under his breath, a mix of frustration and amusement evident in his voice.

I couldn't help but feel a small smile forming into a smirk at the curse word slipping out. His nerves were endearing, and I found myself growing more intrigued by his attempt at asking me to dance.

Finally, after a moment of internal struggle, he mustered up the courage to look me in the eye and ask, "Would you like to dance with me?" The words escaped him in a rush, a mix of hope and uncertainty lacing his tone.

I met his gaze, feeling a soft flutter of excitement in my chest at the invitation. His vulnerability was both surprising and refreshing, and I couldn't help but be drawn to the genuine sincerity in his eyes.

I arched an eyebrow, a playful glint in my eye as I considered his invitation. "Dance with you?" I repeated, drawing out the words teasingly. The soldier's cheeks flushed slightly, his gaze flickering nervously between me and the ground. I couldn’t help but glance over at his group of friends, who were watching our exchange with bated breath, their expressions a mix of anticipation and silent encouragement.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I extended a hand towards him. "I would be delighted to dance with you," I replied, my voice warm and inviting. The soldier's eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of relief and excitement flashing across his features.

As the music swelled around us, I placed my hand in his. With a gentle tug, he led me to the center of the room, those sitting now on the edge of their seats as they watched us post up for the slow dance that was starting. The soldier's steps were hesitant at first, but as we moved together in time with the music, his confidence grew.

The weight of Dominick's intense gaze bore down on me like a heavy cloak as the young solider moved me around the floor. The familiar look of anger etched on his features sent a shiver down my spine, knowing the storm that brewed beneath his controlled exterior. The colonels standing by his side watched the scene unfold, their eyes flickering between Dominick and me, as if bracing for the clash that seemed inevitable.

It was evident that the young soldier held a lower rank compared to Dominick, likely a Lieutenant given his demeanor and insignia. Despite the unspoken tension hanging in the air, I made a conscious choice not to embarrass the soldier in front of his comrades. Instead, I saw an opportunity to offer a fleeting moment of joy and respite amidst the uncertainty that loomed on the horizon.

[justkeeponsimming]

Justice can’t stand her mother’s hypocrisy. When the conversation diverted away from her mother’s absence, Justice storms off.

She heads to her happy place - outdoors. Being in the fresh air soothes her soul. Wind whipping through her hair, smelling the briny breeze from the sea, feeling her muscles burn as she cycles around, truly puts her at ease. Some sims meditate in silence, but Justice’s personal peace is movement.

Cycling became one of Justice’s favourite hobbies whilst her mother was away. Tied to her movement skill, it’s a fun way to level up and learn some cool tricks! She knows she’s so close to getting the milestone!

Justice’s anger fuels her determination! She takes a deep breath and scoots down the street to give herself a runway! She checks her helmet is secure, then makes sure her light is on full brightness. Safety first, even for a daring sim like her!

Pushing off, Justice pedals as fast as she can! When she’s got enough speed, she pulls back the handlebars, finally performing the perfect wheelie! Justice shouts in triumph as she skids to a halt, earning her milestone for learning to ride a bike!

[medusapelagia]

writing patterns 👁️

rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

Was I tagged by someone? No! But I saw this on @cranberrymoons Tumblr and I thought it was fun so I just jumped in (sorry XD)

1 It’s not the first time that Geralt has been hurt, but it’s the first time he almost died on Jaskier's watch. (Family Dinner, Jeraskier)

2 Steve Harrington is the most booked runway model in the world.  (Separate Ways, Harringrove)

3 Billy doesn’t know why he accepted to go to this stupid club, and now that he is sitting on the sticky couch in faux leather he wonders once more how Steve convinced him to join him and Robin. (Wednesday, Harringrove)

4 Steve has trained for this all his life, but when his father gives him the order he hesitates. (I'll make you proud, Steddie)

5 Steve sighs in his dressing room while getting ready to shot, Robin, his personal assistant, got everything ready for him: his favorite snacks, some mango-flavored water, and even his lucky charm, but Steve knew that this movie was going to be the hardest he ever shot. (The scorpion and the frog, Harringrove)

6 “Fuck!” Billy yells, slamming the car door so hard that the entire car trembles for a moment. (Love is a battlefield, Harringrove)

7 Eddie sighs, looking at the boy at his side who is avoiding him as much as he can, which is quite hard given the fact they are sitting so close next to each other. (Black and Gold, Steddie)

8 Eddie sighs, looking at the white blanket around the chalet that Steve booked for their first holiday together. (Running From The Daylight, Steddie)

9 Eddie is kneeling in the mud, shaking like a leaf while Wayne runs toward him: there is a bullet hole in the trailer's wall just a few inches from his head and skid marks on the ground a few feet away. (Let the world around us just fall apart, Steddie)

10 It all started during The Masters: just a big misunderstanding that could have been clarified easily, but the other golf player decided that he could not forgive him and since that day Eddie Munson has tried to piss off Steve anytime he had the occasion. (The Caddie, Steddie)

So the main pattern is that I love to start with a name and that my characters sigh a lot because they already know that I'm going to torture them!

This are my no pressure tags because I think this is so fun!!! @kallisto-k, @spaceofentropy, @romeren, @rindecisions, @lorifragolina, @soaringornithopter, @slippy-slip, @cxwzkeys, @whataboutthefish, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation and everyone else who wants to join!

[usafphantom2]

U-2 driver explains why Dragon Lady pilots must stall the U-2 in the air in order to land the iconic spy plane

The U-2

The U-2 provides high-altitude, all-weather surveillance and reconnaissance, day or night, in direct support of US and allied forces. It delivers critical imagery and signals intelligence to decision makers throughout all phases of conflict, including peacetime indications and warnings, low-intensity conflict, and large-scale hostilities.

As we have previously explained since Lockheed’s U-2 spy planes are famously difficult to launch and land because of their extremely poor field of vision, a chase car that can keep up with them is required on the ground.

To fulfill this task the U.S. Air Force (USAF) puts U-2 pilots in the driver seat of fast muscle cars which the service buys at relatively low cost. By talking to the spy planes pilots through runway operations the chase car drivers act as ground-based wingmen for the U-2s in the air.

Noteworthy the U-2 chase car in fact must feature a top speed of 140 mph.

Dragon Lady pilots must stall the U-2 in the air in order to land

As U-2 pilot Maj Steve Randle explained to Peter E. Davies for his book U-2 Dragon Lady Units 1955-90, ‘the major difference between landing our aircraft and any other is in the last two to three feet above the runway. We have to stall the U-2 in the air in order to make it stay on the ground. Any other aircraft you can fly onto the runway, but ours has to be stalled onto the runway. If you stall from more than about three feet, there is a great possibility of incurring structural damage.

‘If you misjudge and don’t stall, the main gear will hit the runway and then, since you’re not out of flying speed, the beast will bounce back into the air and if it bounces more than three to four feet, it will then stall, and risk damage. It’s very critical, and that’s why we have a mobile officer in a chase car calling off altitude. On the stall, the tail gear will settle onto the runway, followed rapidly by the main gear’.

Here are the Unique Challenges faced by McGuire squadron to transport U-2 Chase Cars over the Altantic

A pilot with the 5th Reconnaissance Squadron advises a pilot landing a U-2 from a chase car on Osan Air Base, Republic of Korea. A U-2’s unique shape adds more of a challenge in landing, as the pilot cannot see the distance of his back wheel to the ground. Chase cars driven by U-2 pilots, act as the eyes from the flightline.

The final moments of landing required energetic use of the control yoke to keep the U-2 level until it ran out of speed. Initiating a 15 degrees per second rate of roll at 200 knots required 85 lbs of force on the yoke.

Landing is a challenging aspect of each flight

In the later U-2R/S versions the situation improved, but the balancing act required for landing was still a challenging aspect of each flight, as Col Mason Gaines, former 99th Expeditionary Reconnaissance Squadron commander at Beale AFB, California, explained;

‘A lot of grappling occurred on the short final and into the flare as speed was bled off and the controls became less effective. Control inputs had to be put in, then immediately taken out, even before they took effect. If you rolled left to correct drift and then left the roll in place until it took hold, you would be too far left and needing to correct back to the right. You were constantly nudging the aircraft back to the centre line.

‘It was not hard to perceive the aircraft tilting left or right after touchdown, so you could tell which way it was leaning, and correct accordingly. Fuel balance and winds were a big factor, and on some gusty crosswind days the wing was to do whatever it wanted to. Once it was down, the wingtip skidded, and could help you come to a stop, with appropriate amounts of opposite rudder. A technique for brake failure [or to combat “weathercocking”] was to put a wing down and hold it down to drag you to a stop. Of course, to a pilot, it was always a point of pride to come to a stop still “flying” the wings and keeping them level until the pogos could be re-installed. The mobile [pilot] could help, but for the most part the [U-2] pilot could do it.’

U-2 driver explains why Dragon Lady pilots must stall the U-2 in the air in order to land the iconic spy plane

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. U-2S Dragon Lady “Senior Span”, 9th RW, 99th RS, 80-329

Stall the U-2 in order to land is an ‘art rather than a science’

Having overcome the U-2’s marked reluctance to descend, the pilot had to maintain a steady landing run of up to 3000 ft, for only a few U-2s had braking parachutes. ‘Threshold’, or ‘T-speed’, was calculated by a formula based on the aircraft’s empty weight plus one knot for every 100 gallons of remaining fuel that gave the correct landing speed, which was usually ten knots above the stalling speed. Fuel was measured in gallons, not pounds, and the gauge showed ‘fuel remaining’, rather than the usual overall quantity.

Landing, in Maj Randle’s opinion, was still an ‘art rather than a science’. When the U-2 came to a halt, one wing would dip to the ground and the other would have to be pulled down to a level position so that the pogos could be reinserted. This required (ideally) one crew chief to jump up and grab the wing’s edge, but depending on the balance of remaining fuel in the two outer wing tanks, two strapping crew chiefs might have been required. On narrow taxiways at some of the foreign operating locations (OLs) like Akrotiri, on Cyprus, only one pogo could be inserted, and several groundcrew would ride on the same wing as the ‘pogo’ to keep the aircraft level while taxiing.

U-2 Dragon Lady Units 1955-90 is published by Osprey Publishing and is available to order here.

Pogos

Photo credit: Lockheed Martin, U.S. Air Force and Screenshot from video

Dario Leone

Dario Leone is an aviation, defense and military writer. He is the Founder and Editor of “The Aviation Geek Club” one of the world’s most read military aviation blogs. His writing has appeared in The National Interest and other news media. He has reported from Europe and flown Super Puma and Cougar helicopters with the Swiss Air Force.

@TAGC17 via X

[shelfwar]

Iceman X Reader ~Emergency Landing~

ITS DONE, I FINALLY FINISHED IT LOL. After 3 months of writing this imagine is done. I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I did writing it.

WARNINGS: Use of words, angst possible smut, idk what else 18+

You were currently flying, yourself down to Ontario, California where your distant relatives are currently living. So here you were just flying in your Cesena as you felt a rumble and saw that landing gear had failed. "Shit" You murmured as you turned on your headset. "This is Echo 798 I have a landing gear that won't work. So this is a emergency landing situation."

"This is San Diego airforce base tower, I see you in our radar." "Oh, thank God. Echo 798 requesting for a emergency landing at San Diego airforce base." "Echo 798, permission granted, there will be fire trucks there to assist you just in case." "Roger that." You started in the direction of San Diego slowly descending each minute.

Once you spotted the base you got yourself prepared for a wild landing. "Echo 798, 1,000 feet ." "10-4. Attention all navy planes stay in the air until we have this emergency landing taken care of." The control tower said all over the channel. "I gotta land this bitch safely."

When you landed the plane let out a thunk, as you turned off the engine and held your breath as the plane skidded across the runway. Once it came to a hault you quickly grabbed your luggage and opened the small door and ran out towards the fire trucks. As you were sprinting you slowly turned around and saw your plane have flames coming out of the belly of the plane. "No." You whispered as the trucks put out the small fire.

You had just gotten the plane when you finally turned 23, after saving for months whille going to school then work. "Miss let's get you to the med bay." A man in military uniform say. "I'm fine." "No ma'am your not, look at your leg." You looked down and saw blood going down into your shoe. "Oh, ok." You said as the man led you to a bunch of hangers, one with desks inside and a bunch of navy pilots.

You scanned the rows of men when a bleached blonde caught your eyes and he must've had the same idea, quickly you looked away and continued to follow the man to the med Bay.

Once you two arrived the man motioned you to the cot as he started getting the medical supplies he needed. "Thank you." You said as he started to addressing the wound. "Your welcome, you did the right thing kid. And I gotta say that was one hell of a landing." "Uh thanks." "So where are you from?" "Arkansas"

"You flew the whole trip by yourself?" The man put a large band aid on your ankle before helping you up. "Yeah, amazing right." "How." "one stop that's it." "Hmph, do you have a place to stay?" "No, my family is in Ontario." "Dang, hey I betcha one of the pilots would let you bunk at there apartments until your plane is back in tip top shape." "That sounds lovely."

"So, your temporary roommates will be Hollywood and Wolfman." "Hollywood and Wolfman?" You cocked your eyebrow in so much confusion. "That's there call signs." "Oh." The man parked the car as you got out you grabbed your bag and followed him to the door. He knocked on it a couple of times before a brunette haired man came to the door. "Hollywood this is your temporary roommate y/n. She will be staying here until she can get her plane back in shape." "Yeah. I got her a room next to Wolf's room" "splendid." "If you need anything don't be afraid to ask Hollywood or Wolfman." "Yes, sir." You said as Hollywood moved out of the way so you can go into the threshold.

There sat a man, that you assumed to be Wolfman on the couch. "You must be the new roommate? Y/n right?" "Yeah, that's me" He was definitely attractive but not as attractive as the other blonde. "Well make yourself at home." I nodded before I went searching for the 3 bedroom. Once I found it I placed my bag down on the floor before I jumped onto the bed and sighed.

"Hey, y/n wanna come and have a few drinks with us pilots?" I heard Wolfman say as he walked into the room. "Uh, I'm no navy pilot." "Your still a pilot y/n." "Ok, fine. When are we leaving?" "Now." "Okay." You said as you got up and followed Wolfman back out to the living room. "You two ready to go?" "Yeah, let's have some fun with the new roomie." "Uhh, okay?" "He's just playing right Wolf?" "Yes I am, now come on" The three of you all walked out of the house and down to the bar where all of the other navy pilots would be at.

Once you've arrived, music was blaring and the smell of booze hit you like a freight train. Personally you were more of a rum and coke kinda gal, so you scrunched your nose and followed the two pilots up to the bar. "Can I have a coolers light." Hollywood said. "Dude that's a fucking lady drink." "So what Wolf I enjoy it." Hollywood picked up his beer as he wandered off. "What would you like Wolf?" "Ahh you know the usual Bush Light." "County boy." "You know it!" Wolfman chuckled as he picked up his drink. "Miss what can I get you?" "Ah, rum and coke?" "Coming right up."

As he was preparing the alcoholic drink you scanned the crowd and your eyes landed on the same blonde from this morning standing next to 3 other men while taking a shot. "There you go." "Oh, thanks." You shook your head and picked up the glass and spotted Wolfman next to the pool table. You started heading his way when one of the men from the group came up to you. He had jet black hair and was kinda short, and you could tell he looked like a cocky pilot.

"Hi, the names Pete Mitchell but people call me Maverick." "Uh, hi. I'm y/n." "Pretty name for a pretty lady." "Thanks" You could feel the tips of your ears heating up after his little flirtatious remark. "Sooooo" "Hey!MOTHER GOOSE YOUR DUCKLING WALKED OFF." You heard a taller man yell." "Mav no leave her alone." A man with a lined mustache came running up to you two. "I'm so sorry." "It's fine really." "Oh, my names Nick Bradshaw but people call me Goose obviously." He chuckled.

"I'm y/n." "Wait a minute I saw you this morning. Wait. Wait. Wait. Were you the pilot that had an emergency landing?" "Yeah, my landing gear broke, now I'm rooming with what I'm assuming your classmates. Wolfman and Hollywood." You said as you pointed at the two men." "Yeah, that's them." Maverick said as the hot blonde and the taller man came strolling over to us.

"Mav, you finally found a girl." The taller man said. "Pfft." I said as the blonde looked at me. "I'm not Maverick’s girl, he just came over to me." Maverick’s face turned bright red. "Well, what the hell." Goose said as he looked at both men. "You saved me because clearly he has a damn ego." The tall man and the hot blonde started laughing at your comment. "Say, what's your name?" "I'm y/n, I was the pilot that had an emergency landing this morning." "Heard about that, the names Slider and this is my pilot Iceman." Slider lent out his hand as you shook it, you then turned your attention to Iceman, boy was he attractive.

"Iceman, nice to meet you." He firmly shook my hand as you felt electricity flow throughout your body. You looked at him as he smiled down at you, instantly you felt your face heat up. "You normally blush when someone shakes your hand?" "Uh-uh no." You whispered.

Iceman let out a chuckle as he took a shot and downed it. "So, what brings you to California?" "I have family up in Ontario." "Ontario, boy that's a way up there." "Yeah, tell me about it." You sighed as you took a sip of your drink. "Hey y/n we're heading back, come on." Hollywood yelled over the crowd as him and Wolfman made there way over to us. "Well it was nice meeting you Ice." "You too y/n, I guess I'll see you around?" "Yeah, you'll see me from time to time." You smiled as you waved goodbye to the group before following your roommates.

The next morning you woke and headed to the hanger where your plane sat. Once there you knocked on the doors as a Navy mechanic poked his head out. "Can I help you?" "I have my plane here, I was the one with the emergency landing." "Ah yeah, it's just over there, do okay." You walked over to your plane and just stared at it in awe, the whole landing was gone so it just laid there with a bit of soot on the belly.

"Excuse me" you said as you walked back up to the man. "Yes?" "Do you have a phone by chance?" "Yeah, right on my desk." "Thank you." You walked over to the desk and scrolled in your family's number. After a couple of rings a voice picked up. "Hello?" "Hey it's y/n, I've got a problem." "What do you mean?" "My plane needs extensive work as in I don't think I can make it." "What!" "Look I'm sorry but I couldn't help it my planes landing gear is practically burnt to a crisp. I'm very sorry." "You said as you leaned your head to the wall. "Wait where are you?" "San Diego airforce base." "Oh good lord, you should've listened to us y/n." "What?! No wonder why I left California so I could travel freely." Suddenly the line went dead, they hung up on me.

"ASSHOLES I HATE YOU " You said as you stormed back off to your plane. Once there, you let out a huff and left the hanger completely and headed down to the beach. When you arrived you noticed Maverick, Goose, Slider and of course Iceman all shirtless playing a game of volleyball. You found a seat in the sand and watched the game proceed as Ice served the first throw.

Goose hit it back as Slider spiked the ball at Maverick, ultimately Maverick missed the ball as he tried diving but failing miserably. You let out a loud whoop as Silder and Iceman chest bumped. "That's what I'm talking about!" Slider yelled. "One point for us, 0 for you two." You let out a loud chuckle as the four men looked over at you as Ice was the first one to give you a lopsided grin.

"Alright, let's take a brake-" "Goose tried saying before a little kid yelled "Daddy!" You looked behind you as a blonde haired women and what you assumed was her son run up to Goose. "MOTHER GOOSE YOU PUSSY!". Slider yelled as him and Ice walked over to you. "Hey, guys." "Hey, y/n what are you doing here?" "Was gonna fix my plane, and well I was kinda discouraged so I wanted to see the beach." You said as you gazed at just Iceman. "Well if you wanna watch go right ahead or better yet we could use a third player." "Dude I love beach volleyball of course I'll join you two." You smiled as you took the volleyball from Sliders grasp and walked down to the court.

"Hey, Ice. Ice!" "Hmm?" Iceman said as he gazed at your back as you sauntered over to the court. "Ohhh, Ice has a crush." Maverick giggled as Ice hit him up side the head. "So what if I do Maverick, at least I can get some asshole." Slider let out a howl of laughter as he ran and caught up with y/n.

"Hey y/n I think iceman has a thing for you." Instantly your face turned cherry red as you glanced in Iceman’s direction. "Uh, sure Slider, sure. If he liked me enough, he would be flirting with me by now." "Hey, any man could flirt with a girl. Hell Maverick just did last night." "Well Slider that was last night, and this is now." You said as yoh took off your shirt that revealed a black sports bra underneath. "Ok, now your asking for him now." You cocked your eyebrow and shoved the ball into his toned chest.

"Hey, what the fuck was that for?" "Cause ,your an ass Slider." You said as you stormed off the court and back to your temporary home.

Once there you walked to your room and shut the door behind you, as you threw your shirt on the floor and hoped into the bed. You looked up at the ceiling just spaced out not even noticing the front door opening and closing. "Hey, y/n you in here?" "What?" You shook your head and sat up in bed as a rap was sounded behind the door. "Hey, you in there?" "Yeah, who's there?" "It's Wolfman." "What do you want?" "I dunno you just got up and left the volleyball match." "Well I'm sorry." "Well, can I come in?" "Sure why the fuck not."

Wolfman walked in the room as his eyes dilated on my figure. "Damn. Ice was right you were sexy." "Jesus christ yall pilots are horndogs!" "No it's the truth Ice likes you but his ego got the best of him and he's being a pussy for not asking you out." "Fuck me!" "Ok..." Wolfman started towards you hungrily. "No, no, no. Not that." He let out a chuckle as he sat on the bed. "Hey, you gotta trust us but we think Ice has a thing for you."

"Yeah, right." "Really. Your being difficult like Ice, yall need to fuck or something." "Fine, jackass." "Hey, I'm not a jackass." "Listen." You sighed. "I find Ice very attractive like I wanna start real slow if we get into some form of relationship." "I see that." He also sighed to. "Tell you what, me and Hollywood agreed on having just us pilots over here tonight for some drinks, and don't worry everyone knows" "Okay." You sighed as you looked over at Wolfman as he gave you a cheeky smile. "You know I didn't mean what I said about you pilots being horndogs." "I know, and I'm sorry for being a flirtatious ass." "Wolf I could give zero fucks." You chuckled as he gave you a side hug.

"What time will they be over?" "5." You looked over at the alarm clock and it read 3:00 pm giving you enough time for a well needed nap. "Well Wolf I need a nap so could you wake me up at 4:30.?" "Yeah, sure." He smiled as he got up and left the room closing the door behind him as you closed your eyes.

"Hey, wake up... Y/n wake up you overslept." You shot up in bed and quickly stumbled out to the living room. "Sorry, sorry." You found a empty chair and closed your eyes. "Someone's still sleepy eh?" "Shut up Goose." Iceman barked at Goose as you held up your middle finger. "Whom ever I'm flipping off lord I apologize." You giggled as you opened one eye. "Jesus I got it right, flipping off Goose." "Yeah, well what the hell did I do to you." "I dunno, I'm just still *yawns* trying to wake up." "Well clearly you are snow-white." Iceman said as he gazed in your direction.

"Well it's Echo to you mister." You cackled as you sat up in the chair and watched Ice seem kinda flustered. "Call sign, right?" "Right'o Hollywood." "Well everyone's here why don't we play a game of truth or dare" Wolfman said as he handed you a mix drink. "That's like a child's game." Goose said as he sat down on the floor. "Ha, facts" Hollywood said as he sat on the arm of the chair you were sitting in.

"Alright, who wants to go first?" "I will." Maverick said as he stood in the center of the room. "Of course Maverick would fucking go first." Slider said as Mav rolled his eyes. "Alright, truth or dare Maverick?" "Truth." "Ahm, pussy." "Ice, give him a chance." You giggled as you looked over at him. "Okay, Maverick do you have a crush on Charlotte?" "Ego gone." You whispered as Ice and Slider smirked towards you.

"Yeah, I do. Y/n, truth or dare?" "Dare?" "I dare you to.......sit on Icemans lap." Yours and Ices eyes grew wide as you both looked at each other. "Uh, ok?" You got up from your chair and walked over to Ice as he looked up at you and he flashed a cheeky grin. "Come on now we don't have all night now do we?" "Shut the fuck up Maverick." You snarked as you sat on one of Icemans legs.

"Alright, Goose truth or dare?" "Hmm, Dare." " I dare you to take a shot of Vodka." You said. "Easy miss Echo." Goose got up and pored himself a shot of vodka and downed it was a "ahh". "Okay, Iceman truth or dare?" "Dare." "I dare you to cuddle y/n." Beneath me I felt Ice shift a bit before wrapping both arms around your middle as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks as you looked at him. "Hi." He whispered. "Hi." You whispered back. "Y/n truth or dare?" "Dare." "I dare you to go on a date with me." "Deal"

3 months after being on the base your plane was ready to go. So here you stood amongst the pilots that you knew all to well, especially Iceman getting ready to head back to Arkansas. "By Slider, I'll miss you." You hugged the pilot as you moved onto Goose, then Maverick, Hollywood, Wolfman and lastly Iceman.

"Please write to me when you get back." "Ice I will, I promise." "Okay." Iceman held you close as he looked down at you sadly. "I love you." "What?!" "I said I love you Echo." You smiled as you kissed his cheek, but that's not what he wanted. He turned his head at the last minute as he locked his lips with yours in a small sweet kiss. He placed his hand on the back of your neck as you leaned into the kiss.

Once you both broke the kiss you both were panting as he leaned his forehead to yours. "Please fly safe." "Same to you Tom." He chuckled as he hugged you for the last time as you backed up and waved to your navy family. You placed your bags in the passenger seat as you placed your headset on and climbed into the plane. You saluted the pilots and started to taxi onto the runway.

Between the time you left the base and got back home, you and Iceman would talk/write to each other almost every night. The last time you talked to Ice he mentioned the Top Gun graduation, reluctantly you said no but in reality you were gonna make it to the graduation.

So again here you were requesting to land back onto the San Diego airforce base. "This is Echo 798 requesting to land." "Echo 798 request granted." "10-4" You started to descend the plane as you saw the tarmac coming closer and closer. Once the plane made touch down you pushed down the brakes and started slowing down the runway. Once done you started taxiing to the hangers as you parked the plane a guard came to you.

"Miss you do realize this is a military base correct?" "Yes, I do sir, but I have a boyfriend here." "Name then?" "Tom Kazansky aka Iceman." " Well the you better hurry graduation just started. Come on then." You grabbed your things and followed the man where he took you to the now ending ceremony.

In the middle you could see Iceman and his RIO Slider getting congratulated on some sort of achievement as the other pilots also congratulated the two. "Echo?" You turned on your heels to see your former roommate Wolfman. "Hiya Wolfman how's it going?" You asked as he gave you a big hug.

"Could be better, right Hollywood." "Right, hi Echo long time no see." "Hi, Hollywood. Yeah long time no see" You glanced over at Iceman and back at Hollywood and Wolfman. "Go, I think he missed you." You gave the two a nod before squeezing your way over to him. "Y/n?" "Hi Ice." Ice shoved the placke to Slider as he ran up to you, grabbing up under your armpits he swirled you around.

"Oh, God your here baby." "Yeah just flew in 7 minutes ago." He set you down as he captured your lips with his. "I missed you, so much y/n" he whisper as he held you close not caring in the world that there was a crowd watching the two of you.

"I'm sorry that i lied to you Tom, I just wanted to surprise you." "Hey, it's okay. It's the best damn surprise baby."

"Sorry, to interrupt you two, but Ice and Slider you leave at 0500 tomorrow for a mission." The older man said to both Ice and Slider. You looked down at the ground sadly as you felt Ices thumb lift up your chin. "Your staying at me and Sliders apartment, till I get back. Till then we still can hang out." "Okay." "I love you Echo." "I love you to Iceman."

[longwindedbore]

Goggled “Boeing 737 engine bursts into flames” and get TWO separate incidents EIGHT DAYS apart.

May 17, 2024

May 9, 2024

One incident for each mysteriously dead Boeing whistleblower.

Some Boeing Execs and ex-Execs need to go to be indicted, tried, convicted and sent to prison for violations of regulations and for murder.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

⚡ The Song I Sing

The Song I Sing: Octavia has been with Team Flash since the beginning. After getting over the heart breaking betrayal of Harrison Wells along with gaining the speed force, Octavia is up against the best with her speed. But one strange run later and Octavia finds herself traveling time for the first time, and in a heap of trouble. She may be quick on her feet, but Harrison Wells isn’t easily fooled.

Warnings: Language, Explicit Material, Dubious Advances.

To Note: Eowells x NAMED!Reader.

Word Count: ~4.3k

"So Cisco wants you to do what again?" you questioned, rubbing your forehead as Barry tried to figure out how to work the two devices Cisco had given to test out on the airfield.

"He wants us to run with these," Barry explained as he scratched his head with the receiver of one, while staring in puzzlement at the other. "But he failed to mention what they’re for or how to use them, as usual…"

Walking over, you grabbed the device out of Barry’s hand and squinted at it, rotating it in your hand.

“Looks like a suped up velocity receiver, which basically means we just have to run around with them in our hands and hope that Cisco Ciscofied them enough to where they won’t break apart,” you said as you inspected the device. “But why he wants to know our velocities when he already has plenty of information on that is beyond me.”

“It’s Cisco, he’s always working on something,” Barry responded with a sigh. “So I guess we just start running?”

“Yep,” you mused before looking down at your outfit. “And I swear to god if this ruins these shoes…”

“Cisco will buy you a new pair,” Barry huffed before taking off in a yellow flash. Huffing at Barry, you rolled your eyes.

“These are Italian. Cisco would faint at the price,” you mumbled before taking off after Barry in your own flash of gold. Running down the tarmac after Barry, you heard the velocity receiver let out a trill at your movement. Hopefully, that meant Cisco was getting the information he wanted.

Barry and you did several back-and-forth sprints across the runway. On your lap number ten, just as Barry and you hit the halfway mark down the tarmac, something exploded brightly in front of you, sending you both skidding to a stop while covering your faces.

Smelling burning plastic as your shoes skidded to an abrupt halt, Barry and you gaped at the swirling energy in front of you.

“Uh, Barry?” you questioned, your eyes trained on the flashing waves of rippling energy. “What is this?”

“I don’t know,” Barry panted beside you, his green eyes flickering all over the shifting lights. “But something tells me that it isn’t good…”

“So we should probably start running…?” you offered. Barry nodded slowly.

“Yeah, that would probably be a good idea,” Barry answered weakly. “You head back to the lab, tell Caitlin and Cisco what happened.”

“I’ll go do that,” you mumbled before turning around and taking off. Zipping away from the airport, you were unsettled by the fact that the energy flare seemed to be following you. That only made you run faster. The streets of Central City warped and bended as you whipped by them, and abruptly hitting the brakes, you slid across the concrete floor of the cortex, puffing.

Looking around, you found Caitlin and Cisco nowhere to be found, which was strange because they had said they would pretty much be in the cortex room the whole day. Your eyes went to the digital clock on the wall. It blinked eleven forty-three PM at you.

“What the—“ you muttered, wondering why the clock was wrong. It was only about two in the afternoon. Something was wrong, no Cisco or Caitlin, a very quiet Cortex, a wrong clock. “Shit,”

Walking quickly over to the Cortex computers, you bent over the nearest one and quickly typed in your username and password. It didn’t work. You tried again, making sure to spell everything correctly. User not registered.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your eyes going to the small date in the corner of the screen. How the hell did you manage to crash your way into the past? Three years, three. Brushing the hair that had slipped from your braid out of your face, you quickly connected the dots. That energy flare must have boosted your speed, and if you found out when the next one was due, you could use it to get back.

Logging into the computer using Cisco’s username and password, you pulled up the software Cisco had designed to calculate energy changes around the system. You had no idea how to use it, but with enough poking around, you might be able to figure something out. While you were trying to figure out how to operate the software, you failed to pick up on the sounds of an electric chair gliding across concrete.

“Miss Turner.” You completely froze at the voice echoing in the large room. You hadn’t heard that voice in so long, or at least that tone. Straightening up, you forced a smile on your face as you turned around on your heel.

"Dr. Wells, you were up late!" you greeted lightly, although you were literally shaking on the inside, half out of fear and half out of anger.

“Oh, you know me, I like my work,” he responded as he wheeled himself over near you and rested his arm on the chair. “What brings you by so late?”

Something told you that just by the way he said those words that he knew something was going on and was suspicious of you.

“Had a thought, needed to get it down and investigate before I forgot,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders slightly. His lips curved into that half smile of his as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Really?” He questioned, those blue eyes of his practically staring into your soul. He then asked you a question that completely caught you off guard. “Who are you?”

Your lips parted as you tried not to stumble for words. You blinked at him in fake confusion, your eyes darting around as your face scrunched up.

“Sorry? I don’t know what you mean by ‘who are you?’. You know me, Octavia Turner, Barry’s friend and Cisco’s best friend? We’ve known each other for like— two years, I help you out all the time…”

“Hmm,” he sounded, not entirely convinced. His head tilted, and he gave you that deadly smile of his. “I know for a fact that Octavia is in Oregon, visiting her parents.”

You remembered this trip; you had talked nonstop about how excited you were to visit your parents and home city of Portland.

“I came back early,” you smoothly replied while shrugging nonchalantly. “You know how my parents are. They get a globe-trotting idea in their heads and have to answer that call. I didn’t want to ruin that by making them stay, so I came back.”

He chuckled as he shifted in his seat, the muscles of his upper body practically rippling beneath his black blazer and white button-up. That was a threat alone. You knew exactly how dangerous this man was, and you weren’t just talking about how unbelievably handsome he was. Thawne plucked his glasses off his nose and rubbed his forehead, his soft chuckles fading.

“Oh, you’re good, I’ll give you that… but you aren’t Octavia, at least not my Octavia,” he stated, his face going deadly serious as he slipped his glasses into the pocket of his blazer. Those blue eyes pierced into yours as your heart started racing. “So tell me, who are you and how did you get in here?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you mean, it’s me, I am Octavia, you know Tavia… the clumsy one that spills coffee on herself at least once a day?”

His lips pressed into a line that half looked like a smile and half looked like a smirk, and for a millisecond, you thought he was going to let it be. You were wrong.

Thawne was moving before you could even twitch a muscle, the Cortex disappeared as he ran off with you in his motorized wheelchair and barely a second later you found yourself pinned to one of the bumpy walls of the Time Vault with a tight hand around your throat. Gasping in surprise, your legs kicked out at him as his blue eyes narrowed at you in all seriousness.

“I’ll ask you one more time before I put my hand through your chest,” Thawne said evenly, darkness echoing around his electric blue eyes. “Who are you, and where did you come from?”

Grasping at his hand while digging your fingernails into his flesh, you quickly ran through your options. You could run; he would catch you and then kill you. You could continue playing dumb. He would kill you. You could tell him the truth… and you didn’t know what would happen or if he would believe you.

He obviously didn’t like your silence because he tightened his grip on your neck, cutting off the flow of oxygen even more.

“Future!” you sputtered out with a slight cough and wheeze. “I’m Octavia from the future!”

He regarded you with a curious look before releasing your neck and letting you drop straight down to your ass. Coughing as oxygen flooded back into your lungs, you rubbed your neck as he walked a few paces away, clearly lost in thought.

“You aren’t in my plans.” He turned on his heel, looking down at you with those piercing eyes. “You aren’t in my plans and yet you somehow have the speed force.”

You shakily pushed yourself to your feet, leaning back against the dotted wall. You were on the fence. Do you spill your guts and tell him everything? Or do you keep your silence and hope that he lets you run out of here since you are an insignificant insect compared to him? He sighed at your silence and ran a hand through his hair.

"Octavia, Octavia, Octavia," Thawne tutted, tapping his fingers on his chin while smirking slightly. “I always liked you, you know, I still do. You’re quiet, hardworking, never questioned me, always so eager to help.”

“Yeah, and look where that got me,” you huffed underneath your breath, your attitude gained after receiving the speed force coming through. “Stuck in the past with you.”

“Ooh, the little songbird finally found her voice,” He mused, his smirk widening. “Tell me, how does having the speed force rushing through your very DNA feel? Empowering, isn’t it?”

That’s how he knew you weren’t the Octavia from this time. He could probably feel the speed force in you, humming just underneath your skin.

“I didn’t ask for this, you know,” you spat back at him, your eyes vibrating red briefly. “And the joke’s on me for ever thinking you were a handsome, honest, brilliant man.”

“Hmm, you aren’t wrong,” Thawne gloated, raising his hands in a carefree move. “You do love me, don’t you?”

“I stopped following you around like an eager, lovesick puppy ages ago, Thawne!” you hissed at him. “Get off your high horse!”

He zipped in front of you, slamming his palms on either side of your head and caging you while you pressed yourself flat against the wall. Or at least tried to. Attempting to keep your fear of him in check, you glared back into his amused blue eyes in defiance, ignoring just how close he was to you.

“You’ve gotten confident, songbird,” Thawne purred, his mouth so close you could literally feel the vibrations from his words along with the breath he exhaled.

“As I have stated,” you responded, struggling to keep your body under control. “I wasn’t given a choice in the matter, so I adapted. It’s a lot easier to be confident when I can outrun almost all danger.”

“I’d like to see you try to outrun me.”

“Why do you think I haven’t tried bolting yet? I’m not stupid or suicidal.”

“No,” He agreed, his lips curving into that devious, hot, bad smirk of his. “You’re not.”

“What do you want with me right now, Thawne? Because if you’re going to drive your hand through my chest, by all means, go ahead, I’m waiting,” you coolly spat in his face, your eyes blazing with simmering irritation.

“Oh, my little songbird, I think I’d rather hear your sweet tune,” Thawne replied huskily before pressing his knee against the apex of your jean-clad legs and vibrating it. Clamping your lips together, you muted a muffled whimper as the buzzing went straight to your core, awakening electric fire you hadn’t felt in years. “Trying to stifle those beautiful sounds? I don’t think so.”

The vibrations increased well past any toy you had felt before and left you gasping for air while twisting uncomfortably against the wall. Your fingers dug against the bumpy wall as your underwear quickly became soaked beneath his offending knee.

“Thawne,” you rasped out, panting and shaking. “S-stop, stop it.”

“Do you really want me to?” He questioned, his lips brushing teasingly against your ear before landing on your neck. He bit lightly at your skin, drawing a startled squeak that quickly turned into a moan from your mouth. “Because I have a sneaking suspicion, you want this just as much as I do.”

“This isn’t okay,” you panted out while Thawne continued to explore your neck with his mouth, biting down sometimes and placing feather-light kisses other times. “You— you are supposed to be my enemy. You’re— you’re bad!”

“Am I?” Thawne countered before removing his knee and slipping his hand down the front of your jeans, his fingers stroking you through your thin underwear. Your face burned as more whimpers slipped free from your lips. You bit down on your lower lip and closed your eyes, squeezing your knees together while your legs started quivering. Thawne grabbed your chin with his free hand, forcing you to look into his burning, lust-filled eyes. “I know you want me, Octavia, just like how I want you.”

Your hand shot down to the wrist of the hand he had shoved into your jeans, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. Lips parting as you let out a strained gasp, your fingernails really dug into his wrist when he started to vibrate his fingers against your cloth-covered core.

“Please,” you choked out, nearly breathlessly. “I can’t betray my friends, no matter how much I want you.”

“Always so loyal, my songbird,” Thawne chuckled before moving his lips to the tender flesh underneath your jaw and placing several light kisses there. “You may not be able to betray them… but I can.”

With that, his lips smothered yours in hot, passionate, divine power that sucked the rest of the air from your lungs. You couldn’t help the autonomous moan that crawled up your throat, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. He was too hard to resist.

Your remaining hand reached up and sank into his ruffled black hair, getting a good grip and pushing his lips further against yours as you started kissing back, ravenous for more. Biting and nipping at his lower lip, you groaned into his mouth when his fingers slithered past the barrier of your underwear and fully sank into your body.

Head dropping back as the vibrations suddenly hit you from inside your body, you clawed at his wrist, torn between wanting more and needing relief from the vibrations. Whimpering into his mouth while your hips twitched and your knees twisted further together, you raked your nails through Thawne’s hair. Your mouths parted, and Thawne gazed triumphantly down at you as your entire body quaked beneath his ministrations.

“Give it to me, little bird,” He purred with a twist of his lips and an increase of both his vibrations and fingering. Biting down hard on your lower lip with bruising force, your head bent forward into his chest as you choked on a rasping groan. Ripping your hand from his wrist, you sank your fingers into his blazer when your entire body started twitching in anticipation of what could only be a mind-numbing orgasm.

It didn’t creep up on you. No, it hit you with the strength of a tidal wave, washing pure electrical fire through your veins. Throwing your head back into the wall, your mouth dropped open in a soundless scream as your vocal cords constricted in time with your walls. You felt yourself clench down around his fingers, squeezing them tight as you came hard.

Chest heaving, you slowly came down from your high as your arms flopped back against the dimpled wall. Never in your life had you had an orgasm that left you trembling and weak-kneed. While you were catching your breath, Thawne withdrew his coated fingers from your pulsating core and cleaned them by sticking each of them in his mouth. You shuddered, wide-eyed as your body warmed up once more, turned on by that small action.

“God, you taste divine,” Thawne rasped as he stroked your jaw, his blue eyes staring down into your wide hazel ones. “And to think I never tried to taste you before…”

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. The addicting high and electricity crackling through your veins stole any words you could have said. You just stood there, wide-eyed, panties soaked, jeans too probably, legs shaking and silently wanting more. It seemed Thawne wanted more by the way he felt pressed up against your body.

You didn’t have to wait long. Thawne had your boots, jeans, and underwear off before you could blink, ripped the top half buttons of your blouse, and was hoisting you up against the wall. Your hands jerked to his chest the moment you felt his length sliding into your body with ease. A hoarse wheeze tumbled out of your lips as your own fingers dug into the fabric of his button-up, tearing at the expensive material until buttons popped free.

When he started to thrust, falling into a sinful perfect rhythm, your shoulder blades scraped against the wall, adding just a pinch of pain that only heightened the pleasure he drove into your body. Panting, your fingers sank into his exposed chest while his mouth swooped down and landed on your exposed bra and cleavage.

Teeth scraped across your delicate skin followed by a hot tongue soothing the sting, marking up blank skin like it was a canvas. Thawne sucked your skin into his mouth, no doubt leaving territorial marks, while you moaned and slowly crumbled in his arms. Your feet moved to wrap around his waist, closing the space between your bodies, locking your ankles together.

Every time his pelvis hit yours, the burning need grew in the pit of your stomach, and the more you struggled to keep your vocalizations to a minimum. You did not want to give him the pleasure of knowing that he knew exactly how to bring out the worst sort of pleasure. Thawne’s mouth ripped from your now overly sensitized chest and rapidly trailed up your neck, and you were staring in each other’s eyes once more.

“Look at you trying so hard to be quiet,” Thawne rasped with that smirk of his. He clearly was enjoying your struggles. His lips brushed against yours as you made a strangled noise in the back of your throat. Thawne’s grip on your thighs tightened to the point of being uncomfortable as he sped up and a small cry slipped from your lips. “That’s it, little bird, sing for me.”

Your muted cries turned to full-on whimpers as his cock started to vibrate within you, threatening to send you straight over the edge and into la-la land. Your left hand raked up his chest to grip his shoulder when your entire body started to tremble and quake in his grasp. You weren’t going to last for more than a few seconds.

Dragging in a shuddering last breath, the oxygen nearly caught in your throat when he hit a certain spot in your body. You exploded around him with a gushing sensation and a sharp cry. Throwing your head back as you twitched heavily in his arms, you were quickly overwhelmed by lightheadedness.

You felt your body go slack even as Thawne continued to thrust, your ankles dropping from their locked position and dangling listlessly in his hold. Your eyelids fluttered as you gasped for a few seconds more, and, closing your eyes, you went completely limp.

A soft groan passed through your lips as you shifted in place, dull aches emanating from your hips and core. Scrunching your face, you reached up and rubbed your face while moving yourself into a sitting position. Blinking in confusion, you were met with the interior space of Thawne’s lounge room. How did you end up here?

Still slightly out of it, you dropped your legs from where they were stretched out and immediately felt muscle soreness. Your head dropped down to stare at your hurting legs and the very first thing you saw was the torn buttons of your blouse. Your heart skipped a beat as your fingers then brushed against the black blazer you were wearing.

His.

Next, you noticed that your bare feet were touching the cold concrete floor of the room. Your head swiveled around, looking for your precious leather boots and socks. You found them sitting on the floor at the other end of the couch.

“The next energy flare will happen at twelve forty-three tomorrow afternoon,” Thawne’s voice spoke up, making your head snap in that direction. He sat in one of the lounge chairs, legs crossed and a glass in hand. His electric chair tucked away in the corner of the room. “You can go home then.”

Your cheeks flooded with heat as your fingers dug into the fabric of the couch you had been laying on, memories of exactly how you ended up in this predicament fresh in your mind. Pursing your lips, you held the blazer closed to cut off the view of your marked chest and bra.

“Why?” you questioned him slowly. “Why bother? Wouldn’t it just be easier to get rid of me?”

His lips quirked into a half smirk as he continued to lounge in his seat.

“You, my little songbird,” Thawne started with a curl of his lips. “Are far more interesting than I initially thought.”

He took a sip while you scowled at him.

“That isn’t an answer and you know it,” you responded crisply. He simply smiled and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“But it is the only one I will give you,” you let out an annoyed huff before dropping back against the couch. You were tired, still feeling the effects of Eobard Thawne between your legs, and there was nothing to do until tomorrow.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you and all is forgotten,” you mumbled, trying and failing to sound pissed. His eyebrow popped up and his lips twisted into a teasing smile.

“Oh, I don’t expect you to. You would be a fool to, and that’s what makes you smart, Octavia,” Thawne replied in a rare instance of praise. “I suggest you get some sleep. Time travel isn’t effortless as you now know.”

Huffing at him, you flopped back down on the couch, holding the blazer close to your body for a source of comfort. You had… relations… with enemy number one of Team Flash. How could you ever look in their eyes again? Curling up, you tried to go to sleep like he advised.

“I can feel you staring,” you stated, not opening your eyes. “Can you not?”

“Is it bothering you?”

“Immensely,” you ground out, your teeth nearly grinding together.

“Too bad,”

You could just imagine the little amused smirk on his handsome face as he ignored your words. Oh well, it was worth a try. Grabbing one of the pillows and pulling it back over to your head, you set your head down on it and actually tried to get some sleep.

Sleep didn’t come easy, but you did manage to fall asleep despite being in the presence of one Eobard Thawne. The next morning, you woke covered with a Star labs blanket and only felt even more confused and stressed. You felt like Eobard Thawne was giving you whiplash, because deep down you knew that the moment you ceased to be of interest, you would be expendable, and yet some part of you still longed for his sharp touch.

Shaking your head and rubbing healed neck, you stared at the clock in the room that read twelve forty-one. Two minutes left before the energy surge would give you a chance to head home. You started pacing, rubbing your arm and wondering what the hell you were going to tell Barry and the others.

You were lucky enough that you healed so fast all evidence of what happened last night was erased while you slept. That certainly saved you from the embarrassment of explaining how exactly you had gotten the multitude of rather intense markings on your body.

Turning back around to go pace back across the room, you saw that Thawne had rolled himself into the cortex.

“Seeing me off?” you questioned dryly. “How magnanimous of you.”

His lips curved into a hint of a smile as he pulled his glasses down from his nose and looked at the lenses.

“I think I enjoy this confident side of you, Miss Turner. Have a safe trip.” You rolled your eyes as the energy in the room shifted and the swirling energy appeared. You walked for it and just before you went to merge with it, he spoke again. “I look forward to finding out just how much I can make you sing, little songbird.”

You paused for a moment before responding.

“You’ll have to catch me first,” you said with a smirk of your own. His eyebrows went up in amusement and with one last look, you burst forward and disappeared into the energy mass in a shower of yellow.

Date Published: 12/9/20

Last Edit: 8/27/21

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