#best aviation headset

[tsunodaradio]

love at first flight ⛐ 𝐘𝐓𝟐𝟐

what would yuki tsunoda be doing in economy, anyway?

ꔮ starring: yuki tsunoda x graduate student!reader. ꔮ word count: 5.4k. ꔮ includes: romance, humor, fluff. profanity, mentions of food, death (as a joke), flying-induced anxiety. reader is studying something statistics-adjacent. isack makes an appearance. loosely inspired by the statistical probability of love at first sight. ꔮ commentary box: tsunoda debut on tsunodaradio RAAAH 🦅🇯🇵 this is shamelessly inspired by the 2024 video of yuki flying economy. ilysb, my environmentally friendly king (lol). 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

♫ kaiju no hanauta, vaundy. good company, sos. make a move, lawrence. shut up, greyson chance. drive safe, rich brian. call me up, daydreamers.

“You know, statistically, there’s a 0.10 fatality rate in commercial aviation.”

On the other end of the phone, your best friend sighs. It’s not particularly reassuring. 

“This isn’t a joke,” you hiss, panic rising in the back of your throat like bile. You weave through the LAX with your boarding pass clenched in your free hand. “What if this is one of those flights?” 

“It won’t be.” Your best friend’s tone is firm and no-nonsense. You would be appeased, but then, she goes on to give the most terrible platitude known to man: “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” 

The answer to that question turns out to be a seat transfer. 

You’re standing to the side of the plane aisle, red-faced and mortified over a mishap that was beyond your control to begin with. Your seat— the one you spent an absurd amount of time picking out— was broken. 

In your head, you’re already cussing out United Airlines and whichever higher power has it out for you. Outwardly, though, you stay perfectly calm as the flight attendant tries to find you a comparable seat.

“These are the only remaining options,” the attendant notes, perfectly apologetic as she leads you further down the row. 

An aisle and middle seat in a row of three. Your fingers flex around the straps of your hand-carry duffel bag. You’re already mentally drafting the strongly-worded review you’ll be writing for United. 

“I’ll take the aisle,” you say stiffly. “Thank you.” 

The attendant gives you a pitiful smile and promises you extra snacks later. It pales in comparison to the window seat you had originally booked, but you’ll take the small concession. 

You settle into your new seat with a heavy exhale. The nonstop flight is 12 hours long— barring any hitches— and so the only thing you can pray for is that whoever sits adjacent to you doesn’t have a crying baby or anything of that sort. 

The Universe gives you that, at least. 

“22T?”

You look up. The stranger isn’t talking to you, you realize; he’s more of mumbling to himself. You can appreciate that he’s dressed for comfort. A black sweatshirt with the Red Bull logo and a pair of washed out denim jeans. He has a headset hanging around his neck, too, indicating a readiness to spend the entire flight dead to the world around him. 

You must stare for too long, because you end up meeting the stranger’s gaze. He looks like he’s around your age, which is the exact type of story that would have your best friend squealing in your ear. 

It’s not that type of story. At least that’s what you want to believe. 

You give the stranger a tight-lipped smile. He nods in acknowledgement as he takes his seat. You turn back to your personal television, silently grateful that there’s an empty seat between the two of you. 

And it could end there, could just be your run-of-the-mill long-haul that’s largely uneventful, but you’re so obvious. 

You thought you weren’t. You thought you were blending in, acting completely normal. You’re not quite sure what gives it away, though it can be anything from the mindless nail-biting to your knee bouncing up and down.

It takes everything in you not to jump in your seat when the stranger addresses you. “First time?” he asks, the amusement evident underneath his heavily accented English. 

A sheepish grin tugs at your lips. You force your knee to still, your eyes flicking around the plane that’s slowly filling up. 

“Yeah,” you admit. “You?” 

It’s a stupid question, you realize later. Everything about the stranger showed that he was prepared for this— his easy countenance, the neck pillow he had in his hand. At the moment, though, he takes your query in stride. 

“Nah,” he says. “I’ve traveled quite a bit.” 

You nod absentmindedly; your attention is divided. The aisle is mostly clear by now with the exception of flight attendants marching up and down to check if everyone has their seatbelts on. 

“Will it be your first time in Japan?” 

You’re jolted to realize that the stranger is still conversing with you. He’s focused on his personal television, but he’s making small talk that would throw you off otherwise. 

As it is, though, you’ll take any diversion you can get. “It will be,” you respond, “my first time in Japan, I mean.”

Although you can only see the side of the stranger’s face, you catch a hint of a smile. “It’s a very beautiful country. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” he says benevolently. 

A closer look at his features gives you some idea of his ethnicity. You take a gamble. “Where are you from in Japan?” you ask. 

The stranger hums thoughtfully. It strikes you as odd, initially, until you realize he’s probably contemplating how much information he should give out. He caves anyway. “Sagamihara city, in Kanagawa prefecture.” 

“Ah.” 

“You’ve never heard of it, have you?” 

“... Sorry.” 

When the stranger laughs, you have a fleeting thought. He’s attractive, you think, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Didn’t expect you to know it,” he says. “It’s a pretty small place.” 

You wish you could offer better conversation to this polite stranger. You really do.

But the plane’s engine has rumbled to life, and you feel the vibrations to your fingertips. The flight attendants are going through the standard safety procedures— no smoking, staying seated while the fasten seatbelt sign is on— and you listen like your life depends on it. 

Even the demonstration demands all your attention. You watch like a hawk as an attendant shows off how to use the air masks and flotation devices. The attendant is bored because this is a routine she’s done hundreds of times before, and all the other passengers are disinterested as well. They ignore the attendant, shutting off their phones and examining the in-flight magazines. 

You never look away. In your peripheral, you think the stranger might be shooting you bemused glances. You could be imagining it, though, so you don’t point it out. 

When you grab the laminated safety instructions from the seat pocket in front of you— intent to review it, like there’s some kind of in-flight test to prepare for— the stranger actually has the audacity to laugh. 

“Sorry,” he huffs when you glance at him. “I’ve never seen anyone actually read one of those things before.” 

“Better safe than sorry,” you say dryly, but a corner of your lip has twitched into a smile. 

The stranger leans over the empty seat between you, his seat belt straining against his middle. You resist the urge to nag him about sitting back. 

“So,” he starts, “what’s your deal?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I could have probably worded that better.” 

“Probably.” 

He shoots you a grin and amends, “Why are you heading to Tokyo?” 

The plane is starting to push back from the gate. You feel your stomach lurch, and your hands instinctively wrap around the armrests. 

There are numbers swimming in your head. 53% of aircraft accidents are attributed to pilot errors. There were 1,417 aviation crashes in 2024. 80% of all aviation accidents— 

“Hey.” 

The stranger’s voice is gentler, now. 

“I asked you a question.” He’s teasing, but there’s something almost kind underneath the mischief. You could cry with how grateful you feel for him in that moment. The realization that he’s trying to distract you. 

“An academic conference,” you manage. “I’m presenting something.” 

He lets out a low, impressed whistle. The plane picks up speed, barreling down the runway with a rush of noise. You’re tipped back into your seat as momentum beats out gravity, but the stranger stays surprisingly steady. 

His gaze on you stays, too. It encourages you to keep talking, to babble about your dissertation as the plane tilts backward. 

The plane’s wheels give a final bounce. Your breath catches in your throat when you realize you’re aloft, the change in pressure making your ears pop. 

The stranger, seeing the discomfort that crosses your expression, fishes for something in his pocket. “Should’ve offered this earlier,” he says, extending his hand to you. 

A packet of chewing gum. You take one wordlessly, and the two of you simultaneously pop a stick into your mouths. The pressure in your ear clears surprisingly fast. 

“Thanks—,” you start, faltering when you realize you don’t have a name to address the stranger by. 

There’s a flicker of something on his expression. Something you can’t quite place. It’s a mix of surprise and suspicion, softened by what looks a lot like relief. 

“Yuki,” he offers. “You can call me Yuki.” 

to: bestie 🤞 connected to in-flight wifi! wahooo! no untoward incidents at takeoff (got transferred tho, will explain everything later) but it’s too soon to say shit. 11hrs to go. stop jinxing me pls. from: bestie 🤞 LFGGG!!! Sorry you didn’t get your window seat bae ;( I hope you’re at least next to someone HAWT  to: bestie 🤞 ahahaha… about that… from: bestie 🤞 DON’T PLAY WITH ME RN.  to: bestie 🤞 he’s okay looking. he looks about as old as me. he was nice during takeoff and he has juicy fruit gum. that’s it tho.  to: bestie 🤞 do NOT say anything about this being like an emily henry book. from: bestie 🤞 THIS IS EXACLTY LIKE AN EMILY HENRY BOOK to: bestie 🤞 what did i say??? from: bestie 🤞 🤷 Your message came in late!! from: bestie 🤞 SOOOOO??? WHO IS HE to: bestie 🤞 his name is yuki.  from: bestie 🤞 Yuki????????????????????? from: bestie 🤞 What does he look like??????????????? to: bestie 🤞 japanese. from: bestie 🤞 No SHIT Sherlock to: bestie 🤞 why.  from: bestie 🤞 Can you ask him what he does for a living  to: bestie 🤞 why??? from: bestie 🤞 Do it for MEEE pls!!! This is life or death actually  from: bestie 🤞 And b let’s be real. I know you and I know you wanna know too 👀 Don’tcha

You do. Of course you do. 

But conversation with Yuki died a natural death when the seatbelt sign clicked off, forcing you to think of the perfect way to accomplish your best friend’s absurd request. 

The snack trolley offers you an opportunity.  

When the attendants go around peddling the vouchsafed flight snacks— a sad-looking bag of trail mix— Yuki catches the look on your face. He barks out a laugh as he tears into his own pack. 

“This is one of the better ones,” he tells you, popping a handful of the granola and dried fruit into his mouth. He chews through them with impressive speed, waiting until his mouth is no longer full before he adds, “I was once on a flight where the only snack was cheese spread and crackers.” 

“No way.” 

“Yes way.” 

Before Yuki can pop his headphones back on, your mind whirrs with potential segues. The words are past your lips before you can think of them. 

“You said you travel quite a bit,” you blurt out. 

Yuki’s eyebrows arch upward. “I said that over an hour ago.” 

“Yeah, well,” you stammer, “you still said it, didn’t you?” 

He snorts, the sound edged with amusement. For what it’s worth, he looks willing to indulge you. You push on, “What job do you have, then?” 

There it is again. The expression you weren’t quite able to nail earlier. He seems doubtful of your intentions, but when you don’t waver, he bites. 

“I drive,” he says, like it’s the most obvious, simple thing in the world. 

You blink once. Twice. “You— drive?” you repeat. 

“Yes.” Yuki almost smiles. It looks more like a smirk. “I’m a driver.” 

“Like a chauffeur?” 

Now that wipes the grin right off Yuki’s face. He stares at you like your words had been the equivalent of a record scratch, and then he laughs. 

It’s interesting, just how much you can learn about a person in an hour. You file away this little fact, too. Yuki, who throws his head back when he’s really laughing, his body shaking with mirth. The sound isn’t loud, isn’t the type that might have the person in the next aisle complaining, but it still fills you with an odd sense of triumph. 

“I guess you could say that,” he manages once his laughing fit has died down.

“In that case—” You gesture to his sweatshirt. “That makes sense.” 

He glances down at the Red Bull logo. His lips twist into another barely-there simper as he prods you, “What does that even mean?” 

“I don’t know. I always supposed drivers were one of Red Bull’s target audiences.” 

“Really.” 

“Really. 42% of energy drink consumers enjoy Red Bull. I’m not surprised you’re part of that.” 

Yuki gives a slight shake of his head. You wince, as if realizing you’re doing it again— spewing out numbers unprompted, trying to get percentages to clarify something that doesn’t really demand an explanation. 

Except he doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t poke fun at the habit. In fact, he sounds a touch awed as he muses, “You really like your stats, huh?” 

You raise your shoulders in a shrug. “Numbers are good.” The words sound weak even to you, so you double down. “They’re reliable and they give you a good picture of something.” 

“Numbers don’t lie,” he says. 

The statement is surprisingly profound. “Numbers don’t lie,” you echo, a pleased smile of your own beginning to break on your face. 

Yuki watches it, watches you, before seeming to make a decision. “This is— this is a bit hard.” 

You don’t have to wait too long to see what he means. In the next moment, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and half-standing in a jerky motion. He carefully maneuvers towards you, landing heavily on the empty seat that had separated the two of you for the past hour and a half. 

Yuki doesn’t strap himself in yet. He just tilts his head to one side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have questions about your dissertation.” His voice is surprisingly quieter even though he’s bridged the distance. You have to lean in a bit to hear him. “If you’ll entertain me, that is.” 

Something in your chest lurches; it feels a lot like how the plane had bounced during takeoff. “It’s a lot of numbers,” you say lamely. 

He looks unfazed. “What? You don’t think a chauffeur can handle data and statistics?” he teases as he absent mindedly toys with the buckle and retractor resting on his thigh. 

This wasn’t the plan. You had hoped to spend your first ever plane ride watching a movie, maybe reading a book. Snapping photos of cumulonimbus clouds and complaining to your best friend the entire time about one thing or the other. 

Instead, you find yourself telling Yuki, “Ask away, then.” 

He clicks his seatbelt into place.

to: bestie 🤞 [Sent an image.]  to: bestie 🤞 meal time.  from: bestie 🤞 Yum yum yummm  from: bestie 🤞 Speaking of yum 🤤…  to: bestie 🤞 have some tact pls. he’s a chauffeur.  from: bestie 🤞 Oh.  to: bestie 🤞 oh?  from: bestie 🤞 Are you SURE that’s what he said to: bestie 🤞 yes??? from: bestie 🤞 Okay okay I’ll stoppp  from: bestie 🤞 What would yuki tsunoda be doing in economy anyway LMAO  to: bestie 🤞 who?  from: bestie 🤞 Do you remember the tate mcrae tiktoks I sent u  to: bestie 🤞 ohhh. that lando guy. from: bestie 🤞 My loml 🧡🧡🧡 but yes, there’s a yuki on the grid to: bestie 🤞 you’re delusional.  from: bestie 🤞 I hope you choke on ur dry ass airplane food actually❤️Love ya!

“Have you been driving for long?” 

Yuki pauses halfway into devouring his mid-flight sandwich. For the past two hours or so, the stream of conversation between the two of you has flowed rather easily. But it’s also mostly been about you— Yuki asking all the right questions to have you going on 15-minute rants. 

Some of it tangented the moment that food started getting served. You find it hard to believe that you’re already hour four in the air. 

Eight more hours to go.

You might as well try to get to know Yuki, too. 

“About— four years, give or take?” he responds after a beat, as if he’d needed to do some mental math. “I started in 2021.” 

“How did you get into it?” 

“I always knew I wanted to.” 

“Be a chauffeur?” 

You realize immediately just how snooty you sound. “I’m sorry,” you say in the next breath, horrified at your indiscretion. “That was— uncalled for.” 

Gracefully, Yuki doesn’t look offended. He’s got a lopsided grin on his face, like the blunder has amused him. He finishes off his sandwich before putting you out of your misery. 

“Driving,” he clarifies. “I’ve always known I would do something with driving.” 

You perk up a bit in your seat. “Why is that?”

He hesitates, his lips quirking to one side as he— once again— seems to contemplate just how honest he should be. You make a mental note to take his words with a grain of salt. 

“Have you ever heard of kart racing?” he says. 

There’s a glint in his eyes that tells you this, at least, won’t be a lie. 

It’s his turn to talk. You don’t think he notices, but every so often he’ll use a Japanese word or phrase that you don’t understand. You make no effort to ask for clarification. It’s enough for you to see the sheer enthusiasm radiating off him as he tells you about karting as a child, and how he’d even done things under big names like Honda. 

“I can’t believe you started karting at age four,” you say, half-teasing and half-awed.

He gives a vague hand gesture that attempts to communicate nonchalance, but he looks far too smug to pull it off. “Driving has always been a part of me,” he concludes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be without it.” 

It’s a commitment you recognize. You’re just about to ask something else about him being a racing kart kid when your conversation is interrupted. 

“Yuki.” 

Even if it’s just Yuki being called, you can’t help but glance as well. There’s a guy hovering on Yuki's side of the aisle, eyeing the two of you with mild interest. 

“We figured out the seating problem,” the newcomer tells Yuki. His English is accented, too. You think it might be French. “You can move up to the front now, if you like.” 

“It’s not the ‘front’, Hadjar,” Yuki shoots as he leans back into his seat. He addresses Hadjar with an easy air; you gleam that they’re probably friends. “It’s ‘first class’.” 

“Front, first class, whatever.” Hadjar gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’ve got your seat.” 

“Only took you four hours,” Yuki grumbles, and you laugh under your breath. 

The soft sound seems to remind Yuki of your presence. His gaze flicks over to you, and he tenses a bit. A full second ticks by. And then another. And then— 

Hadjar clears his throat. “Any time now, Yukino.” 

You had seen how different it was in first class. More space, better seats. The food would probably be nicer, too. You busy yourself with your personal television, trying to keep at bay the slight swell of disappointment in your chest at losing your seatmate. 

Except Yuki doesn’t move. 

“I think I’m good, man,” Yuki says to Hadjar. 

Yuki, too, is pointedly avoiding looking at you. He’s trying to be casual about passing up his first-class upgrade, about the way Hadjar is snickering. 

You can’t ignore the way your pulse stutters. The way it damn near stops when Yuki says, his voice so deliberately even, “I’ve got pretty good company right here.” 

to: bestie 🤞 okay, fine from: bestie 🤞 ??? to: bestie 🤞 he’s hot.  from: bestie 🤞 EXACTLYYYYYYY from: bestie 🤞 I USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THESE 🙏🙏🙏 to: bestie 🤞 be normal. i’m just appreciating him ok. from: bestie 🤞 Wtvr you say LOVERGIRL  from: bestie 🤞 WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW?! to: bestie 🤞 ? nothing. watching a movie from: bestie 🤞 okayyyy movie date  from: bestie 🤞 mile high club 🔜 to: bestie 🤞 this conversation is over. 

It occurs to you that you could probably just search it up. 

If you really, really wanted to scratch the itch of whoever the hell ‘Yuki Tsunoda’ was— you could just Google it. The in-flight WiFi was working swimmingly. It’d take one search, and you’d confirm whether the guy to your left has been lying to you or not. 

In the end, you find that you don’t really care. 

The cabin lights have been dimmed. When you crane your neck to check the few windows, all you see is inky darkness. 

“We’re probably still over the Pacific,” Yuki says. 

He pitches his voice lower, probably out of respect for the snoozing passengers in the rows you’re sandwiched between. You’re left with no choice but to lean into his personal space. 

Your knee presses into Yuki’s. 

You don’t apologize. 

He doesn’t pull away.

The warm overhead glow of the seatbelt sign is your only source of light. Yuki’s dark hair falls into his eyes, but you have a feeling he’s still watching you with that scrutinizing gaze of his. It’s like he’s holding his breath; for what, you’re not sure. 

“How do you feel about the ocean?” you ask, because there’s five more hours before you’re in Tokyo and you never have to see this man ever again. 

You figure you could be anyone you want to be. You could be honest; you could lie your ass off. You could ask all the hard-hitting questions and come away unscathed, knowing this was a one-off in a liminal space that barely even feels real. 

Yuki’s lips quirk to one side. He seems to be thinking the same thing. This is a safe place to land, a one-act play.

“I hate it,” he answers without missing a beat. “Sharks.” 

You have to tamp back a laugh. “Sharks?” 

“They’re evil and scary.” 

“There’s only a five-year average of six unprovoked, shark-related fatalities per year.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Cows are worse.” 

“Cows?” Yuki’s eyebrows knit together. “Like— mooo?” 

“Like mooo,” you say solemnly. “Cows kill about 22 people per year in the United States alone.” 

“Holy shit.” 

“Right?” 

“You’re—” Yuki falters with a shake of his head, as if he’s banishing the thought that had just come to his mind. 

You can’t have that. Playfully, you knock your knee against Yuki’s. “Don’t back out on me now,” you jab. “I’m…?”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. You see the moment he decides fuck it, the way his eyes flash and he just pushes out the words that’d been at the tip of his tongue. 

“You’re cute,” he says, “when you talk numbers.” 

This time, you can’t fight the laugh that escapes you. It’s a little too loud; the person in the seat in front of you actually twists around to glare at you. You mumble an apology and lean in closer to Yuki, who doesn’t protest the way you’re practically leaning on his arm rest. 

“‘Cute’ isn’t usually the word people would use to describe my nerdiness,” you joke, even though your palms suddenly feel a lot more clammy than it did a couple of minutes ago. 

Yuki shrugs, feigning coolness. “I was actually going to go for ‘hot’,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper, “but I didn’t want to scare you off.” 

It occurs to you that this is flirting. Yuki’s hitting on you, throwing the ball in your court, and it’s your turn to say something just as smooth. 

But then the plane jolts, straining your seatbelt against your form. Your fingers immediately find purchase at your armrest as the overhead seatbelt light blinks on. 

“Ah, fuck,” Yuki grunts as he sinks back into his seat. “Turbulence.” 

You would consider it a bit of a saving grace, if it weren’t for the forceful jolts that make you feel like your heart is in your throat. You know it’s not something to worry about— the pilots are trained professionals, after all— but the numbers all still glaring in your mind, like neon signs in their own right. 

A breathing exercise. You should do a breathing exercise, you think. Or think happy thoughts. You squeeze your eyes shut as the turbulence rocks the plane a little more forcefully, jostling everyone on this flight.

Think about your itinerary in Japan, about a little Yuki go-karting, about sharks and cows, about— 

There’s a hand on top of yours. 

The neon signs in your head fizzle out. 

You don’t open your eyes. You don’t have to. 

Yuki doesn’t say anything either. He just carefully, slowly strokes your white-knuckled grip with his thumb. His palm is surprisingly warm, and it grounds you enough to remind you, Right. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.  

You don’t know how long the turbulence lasts. It ends, by the Universe’s grace. You hear it first— the seatbelt light switching off. 

It’s your turn to hold your breath. 

You’re scared to move, scared to open your eyes. You think that if you do either, you’ll have to face the gentleness of Yuki’s touch, the kindness you don’t know what to do with. You’re scared he’ll stop, pull away, if you look at him.

And so you keep your eyes closed, and you keep on doing your breathing exercises despite the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

And Yuki keeps on holding your hand. 

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but you do. It’s a fitful sort of rest borne from the crash and burn of adrenaline. You stir some two hours later with a crick in your neck, your hand still under Yuki’s, and your head lolling against his shoulder. 

The moment you realize how closely you’d gravitated to him during your nap, you’re peeling away from his side. He rouses as you do, his hands rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

Yuki is heavy-lidded as he offers you a hint of a smile. “What for?” he prods, his voice raspy with sleep. 

You’re not sure, you realize. You’re sorry for falling asleep on him. You’re sorry for letting him hold your hand. 

You’re sorry this flight will have to end.

You shrug.

“Then don’t,” Yuki says with surprising firmness. “Don’t apologize.” 

His fingers twitch like they’re itching to reach out again. But he doesn’t, and so you only nod in response. 

“What should I eat when I get to Tokyo?” you ask for the lack of a better thing to start with, and Yuki lights up like it’s a question he was born to answer. 

from: bestie 🤞 YOU’RE LANDING SOOOONNNNNN <333  from: bestie 🤞 Congratulations on surviving your first flight my darling dearest 🧑‍✈️ to: bestie 🤞 💋 love ya. going on airplane mode. i’ll text once i’m omw to my hotel.  from: bestie 🤞 Please do!! from: bestie 🤞 Don’t forget to give your seatmate a little goodbye kiss :)  to: bestie 🤞 do you want to die.  from: bestie 🤞 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Landing is infinitely worse than takeoff. 

As the plane begins to descend, you fight down the vague brush of panic. Not so much for the landing itself, but for what begins and ends because of it. You wrap your hands back around your armrests, your gaze fixed firmly on the personal television charting the flight’s progress. 

Yuki doesn’t say anything. You realize you don’t know what type of person he is, not really. Would he joke around with you, if you were more than just two people stuck next to each other on an eight hour flight? Would he comfort you; would he tease you? 

You’re struck with a sudden thought. A question you’d been meaning to ask. Now or never, it seems. 

“Why didn’t you move up to first class?” you ask suddenly. 

Yuki lets out a sound— something between a chuckle and a groan. He answers your question with one of his own. “Have you been thinking of that this entire time?” 

“Not the entire time,” you shoot back. 

He clicks his tongue. For a moment, you’re sure he’ll field the question, but he gives in. What does he have to lose, anyway, when you’re landing in less than 15 minutes? 

“You’re good company.” The way he says it— like it’s as certain as the numbers you keep count of. 

It’s that. The same thing he told Hadjar. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

There are worse ways for this story to end, you decide, as you give a low hum of approval and brace for impact. 

“You were pretty good company, too,” you say. 

You’re sure that the two of you haven’t been entirely honest with each other this flight— the illusion of choice, of reinvention, just a little too alluring to ignore— but you hope Yuki knows that much, that one, is true.

So many first-time fliers have had terror stories about their experience, about the people with them. This was not one such case. 

You don’t want to be sappy about it. You don’t have to, really. Not when Yuki is fighting back a smile, his own hands resting at his arm rests.

Your elbows squeeze against each other as the plane’s wheels hit the ground, and you take it as the last ‘accidental’ touch you’ll ever get from this virtual stranger. 

This funny, handsome, kind stranger. 

You wish you were the type of person to ask for someone’s Instagram handle, to secure a phone number. Instead, you’re the type to duck your head and avoid Yuki’s gaze as he takes a suspiciously long amount of time packing up his own things. 

He stands up to go as you linger in your own seat, middlingly tugging at the duffel bag underneath the seat in front of you. 

Don’t say goodbye, you nearly say. I’m not good at those. 

“Thank you for flying with Yuki Air,” he says instead, doing a poor imitation of the pilot. “We hope you enjoy your stay in Japan!” 

You laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. He tacks on something you don’t understand, something in Japanese— sabishiku narimasu ne— but you don’t have the time to ask for a translation. 

“I’m going to go meet up with my friends.” He shoulders his backpack, eyeing the slow-moving aisle on his end. “Don’t forget my food advice.” 

He had been particular about the must-get dishes. “Motsunabe and seafood pasta,” you say, and he nods with approval. 

A final smile. That’s all he offers you as he starts to step away. 

Yuki didn’t seem to like goodbyes much, either. 

Your fingers tighten around the strap of your duffel bag. 

“Hey, Yuki!”

He’s already a couple of paces away, but his head whips around to look back at you. There’s something on his expression; it looks a lot like hope. He’s stuck in the line, though, and you know you can’t stall for too long.

“Drive safe,” you blurt out, immediately feeling stupid about those being your parting words. 

You have no idea. You have no idea just how perfect it is, how there’s no phrase that would have left a better impression.

“I will,” he says with that treacherous, treacherous smile. 

And then he’s gone. 

Approximately 27 minutes later, you’re in the back of a cab staring slack-jawed at a billboard for the upcoming Japanese Grand Prix. Front and center, the country’s home driver. 

The boy you’d sat next to for 12 hours. 

You do the only logical thing. You call your best friend to apologize and say she was, in fact, not delusional. 

She’s screaming in your ear as you rummage through your duffel bag in search of your printed out hotel booking. 

“I can’t believe you were next to Yuki fucking Tsunoda,” your best friend screeches, “and nothing came out of it!”

“Ha-ha,” you say dryly. “You know I’ve got, like, zero game, right?”

“Don’t give me that! You could totally pull if you tried!”

Your best friend is caught between extolling your virtues and catching you up on Yuki’s lore as a driver when you find your booking. You pull it out— 

Except it’s not your booking. It’s one of the tissues from the in-flight meal. It’s a bit crumpled and torn at the edges, but your eyes focus on something else instead. 

Handwriting. Scratchy and shaky, like the person who had been scribbling couldn’t do it properly. Maybe because they had a head on their shoulder. 

There’s a string of numbers, and then a note: 

What’s the statistical probability of me getting a text? 

-YT ⛐

[starlightkun]

➺ word count: 9.3k ➺ genre & warnings: sci-fi, near future, fluff, falling in love without seeing each other, minor hurt/comfort, coworkers au (but in space), space traffic controllers; brief blood/injury mention ➺ synopsis: in which you go to your job as a space traffic controller every day looking forward to your shifts with one specific coworker who you might be falling head over heels for. and sure, you don't know quebec’s real name, nor what he looks like, but you two talk for hours a day between guiding landings and take-offs, and you know him better than anyone else. you’re perfectly happy, until his end of the comms falls silent one day and won’t reconnect ➺ extra info: i recommend being aware of the existence of the icao alphabet so ur not thrown for a complete loop by ppl’s nicknames in here lol. u don’t need it memorized but i swear i didn’t pull these words out of thin air ok. also, in aviation, the number 9 is pronounced niner, ur not going crazy and neither am i ➺ author’s note: agh i had so, so much fun with this one! i know i say that with every new fic, but it’s true! also, i don’t know a whole lot about being an air traffic controller, so this was only loosely based off that (and reader and kun’s jobs are made up anyway), but my dad used to have his pilot’s license and take me flying with him when i was little and i took aviation classes in hs, so i do have a bit of knowledge/experience from that so there’s definitely a lot of influence from american aviation jargon in here (whether or not it’s used correctly is an entirely different thing... we’re in space in the future, after all)

You didn’t immediately see any sign of injury and grabbed his wrist to try to find a pulse. It was faint, but there, and when you put your hand under his nose, you could feel his shallow breaths against your skin. He didn’t rouse, though, and that was when you saw a drop of blood trailing out of his ear.

“Hey, Quebec?” You spoke into the mic, knowing that only one other person could hear you.

“—eah, Zulu?” A familiar man’s voice came through your headset, the very beginning of his sentence cut off as he hadn’t let there be enough still air before he started speaking.

One might think your job lonely or heroic or an opportunity to travel and see some of what the vast Milky Way had to offer. Space Traffic Control was by no means glamorous, and you certainly didn’t feel like a grand figure of mythology in your standard-issue orange jumpsuit that all employees wore on duty, sat at your desk with your feet crossed under you and your mic in one hand as you used the other for leverage against the counter to spin yourself around and around, the various lights on your control panel turning into a starshower before your very eyes. But you quite liked your job. You had the same shift almost every day, so your schedule was predictable, and while the landings and takeoffs that you oversaw were pretty regular thanks to the advancements in space travel, every so often, something fantastic did happen, and you did get to save the day with your quick thinking and directions. You were very rarely thanked or even acknowledged for it, all of the credit and glory going to the pilots, of course, but you didn’t mind—keeping your head down had always best suited you.

And you could never feel alone, even if you were the only person in your control tower. Not when you had Quebec. It was policy to have two controllers on duty at all times, in case of medical emergency (or non-emergency, since even Space Traffic Controllers had to use the bathroom). While you and Quebec weren’t always on shift at the same time, the shifts that you shared with him were by far your favorite. You’d never met in person, nor seen his face, nor even knew his real name, only his call name (Quebec Kilo). But other than that, you knew everything about each other. It wasn’t against any rules for STCs to know each other’s names, but since you only ever used call names on shift, it was pretty pointless to give out your real names.

The landing dock had two towers facing each other, and while they technically did have windows so you could see outside at the approaching spacecraft, even when the lighting was perfect, you could make out no more than a fuzzy, shadowy outline of a person in the window opposite you.

“What did you bring for dinner?”

“Don’t tell me you’re eating your dinner already.” His voice was clearly exasperated.

You hurried to swallow the chip in your mouth before replying. “No…”

“I can hear the food in your mouth.”

“Just a snack!”

“And now you’re going to get hungry again right after dinner and have to go to the vending machine down the hall for another snack and leave me alone with everything.”

“For like five minutes.”

“Remember when that Class-III Tanker came in for an emergency docking while you were on a snack break?”

“Remember every single other time when that didn’t happen, and it was perfectly uneventful?”

He kept his mic on to sigh directly into it, letting you know exactly how he felt. “Just go ahead and eat all of your dinner, why don’t you?”

“Maybe I will,” you bickered back.

“I just brought a rice ball from the convenience store in Sector II,” he answered your question anyway. “And an iced tea.”

“You like to warm your rice balls up or do you eat them cold?”

“I’ve got a salmon one today.”

“Question still stands.”

“Who eats warm salmon and mayo rice balls?”

“Plenty of perfectly normal people.”

He laughed, his disgust from earlier fading away. “You warm up your salmon and mayo onigiri, don’t you?”

“What’s weird about that?” You immediately defended yourself.

“Nothing, I suppose,” he gave in. “I’ve just never thought to try it. Pork, sure. Beef, absolutely. Salmon or tuna? Never.”

“You should try it today. I know that tower has a microwave.”

“Our towers are exactly the same.”

“Almost.”

“What are you leaving me this time? And where?”

You tried to imagine his grin, despite knowing nothing about what he looked. You had decided long ago that he had dimples, one deeper than the other, because that was obviously cuter. And probably straight teeth, since he spoke like he was well educated, which meant his family probably had the money to afford braces if he needed them.

“You’ll find out,” you replied in a sing-songy voice, having already stashed various gifts somewhere around the office. Days in the towers were long and boring, so you’d been teaching yourself more and more complicated origami, always leaving pieces in hiding spots around the tower for Quebec to find the next time he was in there.

The ten STCs were split into two teams of five. Since the station was so large, it was a chore to commute back and forth between the towers every shift. So, each team of five was assigned to one tower, then you’d swap every two months. This meant that your cabin also moved every two months to the opposite side of the station, but you didn’t mind—crew cabins were impersonal and barebones anyway, and different sectors had different offerings in the convenience stores, cafeteria, food court, and just different people. It was a change in scenery even if you were still stuck in the same corner of space.

“And what do you have for dinner, Zu?” He hummed, imitating your tune.

“Well, I just finished my chips,” you sighed with disappointment, tossing the wrapper away. “They were salt and vinegar. But I still have some fruit—honeydew, it’s my favorite—and a leftover sandwich from the caf from yesterday.”

“The fruit—is it imported? From Earth?”

You scoffed. “Pfft! I can’t afford that! You know how much we make! Wait—Unless you’re making more than me. Bec, are you making more than me?”

“No, no, no,” he reassured you with a laugh. “I just thought you might have saved up, since it’s your favorite.”

“It’s my favorite, but I still can’t justify spending that much on something that I’m just going to digest.” You shook your head. “Ag-bubble-grown is perfectly fine for me, thanks.”

“Practical.”

“It’s what I grew up eating. I don’t have a spoiled palate.”

“Like I said, practical.”

A blip appeared on one of your screens, at the same time that all the information on the craft appeared on the screen beside it. “It’s that civilian craft we’ve been waiting for,” you said. “Rock paper scissors?”

“Because that’s always been great via audio,” Quebec chuckled.

“Hundredth time’s the charm.”

“Rock paper scissors, shoot—Rock!” “Paper!”

“See?” He said pointedly, and you imagined him rolling his eyes. “The person who says it always has the disadvantage because of the delay.”

“No, I think you almost had me that time. Really.”

He sighed and cleared his throat, which you took as your cue to turn your mic off. There was another distinct crackle of him turning his outgoing signal on before he started speaking to the incoming spacecraft.

“Space Traffic Control to civilian Sparrow, November-One-One-Niner-Six-Whiskey. Do you copy?”

“Civilian Sparrow November-One-One-Niner-Six-Whiskey, we copy, Space Traffic Control.” The voice of the pilot was even more garbled than yours and Quebec’s, typical not only of civilian spacecraft, but judging by how short the N number was, he had a much, much older craft as well. There had been so many made by now that some N numbers were over 10 characters long and included letters too. After the initial identification was made, the N number would typically be abbreviated to the last three characters to save time, unless another craft was in the area with a similar N number. “We are approaching your portside slightly positive on your z-axis, but we’ll sort that out before we get there, about five minutes out. Do we have permission to land?”

“Control to Sparrow, you are all clear for landing. We’ll see you in a bit.”

“Roger-dodger. Thanks, Control. Fair winds. Sparrow over.”

“Fair winds,” Quebec echoed. “Control over.”

Quebec had hardly turned off his outgoing feed when you caught another blip on your screen, this one you weren’t expecting, approaching quickly. You frowned as Quebec cursed under his breath, the information on the spacecraft once again reading out underneath the information on the Sparrow. This was also a civilian craft, slightly larger than the Sparrow, and definitely newer, the N number at least 10 digits long by the look of it.

“Space Traffic Control to civilian Hummingbird, November-Zero-India—”

“Yeah, copy,” the pilot of the new spacecraft cut Quebec off.

“I need to finish identifying your craft,” he said through gritted teeth. “Civilian Hummingbird, November-Zero-India-Zero-Zero-Seven-Four-Two-Zero-Juliet-Foxtrot-Niner-Eight-Delta. Do you copy?”

There was a long bout of silence, so Quebec asked again, “Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta, do—”

“Yeah, I copy, didn’t you hear me the first five times?” The pilot was clearly irritated now, and so were you and Quebec.

“Were you holding the button to turn your mic on the first five times?” Your coworker asked.

“I’m landing in like, two minutes. It’s clear, right?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“We don’t have your flight on file, and there’s another spacecraft that did put their landing request in ahead of time that we’re expecting to land within the next five minutes. So, no,” Quebec reiterated with no sympathy. “Do an orbit. An eccentric one.”

The pilot sputtered indignantly before declaring, “This is an emergency!”

“All readings from your vessel indicate that it’s in perfect condition. Brand new, even. What is the nature of your emergency? Please give us specific details so we can assist.”

You, meanwhile, were glad that your mic was muted, because you were keeled over at your desk laughing, wiping at the tears being forced from your eyes.

Clearly unable to think of a specific emergency scenario, the Hummingbird pilot gave up. “Fine! I’ll orbit and land in ten minutes.”

“We will process your landing request and let you know if you have permission to land.” There was no response from the pilot, but Quebec nevertheless said, “Control over.”

“Hummingbird over,” he finally replied, not hiding how peeved he was.

The dot signifying the Hummingbird changed course, beginning an oblong orbit around the space station that would thankfully take it out of the path of the incoming Sparrow.

“Asshole,” Quebec muttered over your internal frequency.

“Just because we’re not near any major planet doesn’t mean they can show up unannounced and expect to land whenever they want,” you scoffed. “Nobody seems to get that we’re the last station around for light-years, so everybody stops in. Which is why they’re trying to land in the first place.”

“You would think they’d think about that, but no,” he sighed. “Everybody assumes nobody exists outside their own ship. Including us. We’re just disembodied voices to them.”

“I wonder how many people think they’re talking to an automated system when they talk to us.”

“Lots, I’m sure.”

A few minutes later, the Sparrow landed with no issues, and you waved to the quaint ship of various patchwork panels of tan and browns as it came in, despite the pilot being unable to see you. It was just something you liked to do.

“Bec?”

“Yeah, Zu?”

“You want me to let the Hummingbird know their landing has been approved?”

He groaned. “No, but better you than me.”

You snickered, composing yourself right before turning your external comms on, establishing a connection to the Sparrow with a flick of a switch. “Space Tower Control to civilian Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta, do you copy?”

“Where’s the other guy?” The pilot asked, surprise evident in his tone. He was clearly ready for a round two.

“Control to civilian Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta, do you copy?” You repeated in your most neutral, artificial customer service voice.

“As long as he stays gone,” he grumbled. His time-out imposed by Quebec had clearly done him no good. “Yeah, this is civilian Hummingbird Niner-Eight-Delta. I copy, Control.”

“Your landing request has been approved. In the future, please submit your landing requests at least twelve standard Earth hours prior to arrival in non-emergency cases.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What’s your ETA, Hummingbird?”

“1743.”

“Copy. Fair winds, Hummingbird. Control over.”

“Fair winds,” he repeated unenthusiastically. “Hummingbird over.”

The Hummingbird was of course a sleek ship, slightly larger than the Sparrow in size, but all smooth, thin, long shapes and a glossy scarlet red paint job with chrome accenting. You flipped it off as it glided by to dock with the space station.

After coming back from your late-night vending machine break, you catapulted yourself back into your rolly chair with enough momentum to roll back up to your station with no extra movements needed. Putting your headset back on, you announced into your mic, “I’m back!”

“No disasters,” Quebec reported dryly. “This time.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” You clicked your tongue.

“No.”

“Anyway, I got cookies, in case you were curious,” you told him cheerily. “And information!”

“What sort of information?”

“There was a paper on the bulletin board by the vending machine advertising skiing lessons on Nixu for this upcoming snow season. Starts in just a couple months. You know what that means?”

“We’re about to get all their tourists coming through here on their way to go ski and snowboard and whatever else,” he sighed. “For the next three Nixiun years.”

“Yup!” You confirmed through your bite of cookie. “How many standard years is that? Five? Ten?”

“Too many.”

“Well, Nixiun summer was peaceful while it lasted. For the whole six months.”

“God, have we really been working here for that long?”

“We started within a couple weeks of each other, I think. My one year’s coming up.”

“My one year was a few days ago.”

“Aw, and you didn’t tell me?” You gasped in betrayal. “I would’ve done something!”

“It’s fine, Zulu. I think I was on shift with Pops anyway.” Pops—another one of the Space Traffic Controllers on your team, an older man who happened to be assigned the call name Golf Papa (shortened to Pops).

“Yeah, but you and me are like—” You gesticulated wildly as you scrambled for the right word. “You know?”

“No, not really,” he laughed. “I need you to elaborate a little bit more.”

“We’re Quebec and Zulu, you know? Bec and Zu.” You could see your pout in the reflection of the glass window as you looked out at Quebec’s control tower across from you. “I know we’re all close but you and me are like extra. Right?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Quebec agreed without a hint of sarcasm or jest. “When’s your one year? I want to make sure I don’t miss it.”

“In six days. I expect fireworks,” you teased.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“We’re working together that day, I think.” You pulled up the schedule on your computer connected to the ship’s intranet. “Yeah, the 1600 to 2400 shift again. It’s starred, we’re going to have a VIP that shift.”

“What about the day before?”

You hummed as you looked it over. “Wednesday… I’m off, and you are on the 2400 to 0800 shift with Uni. You have a lot of time between shifts on Wednesday and Thursday at least. Ooh… never mind.”

“What?”

“You’ve got alt shifts Tuesday-Wednesday. You’re on 0800 to 1600 Tuesday with Uni.”

With 8-hour shifts and two controllers needing to be on shift at a time, your supervisors tried to give you at least two shifts—16 hours—off between when you were scheduled to allow for adequate rest and downtime. Being scheduled for alternating shifts, on, off, then back on (or god forbid, double shifts), was a nightmare for trying to get any rest, errands, or other personal time in.

“Let me see this,” he mumbled, presumably pulling it up on his own monitor. A few moments later, he groaned. “Kill me now.”

“Hey, I’ve got the 1600 shift Tuesday with Indy,” you scoffed. “I’ll kill you if you kill me.”

“Ah, he’s not so bad…”

“You interact with him for all of five minutes when you swap, I have to deal with him for the whole eight hours.”

“Our crew quarters are near each other, actually. We’ve grabbed lunch.”

You clutched your chest as your jaw dropped in horror. “I thought we were friends, Bec, and now I find out you’ve grabbed lunch with my archnemesis?”

“Normal people don’t have archnemeses, Zu.”

“Well I—” A blip popped up on your screen and you quickly switched your comms over to address the incoming ship. “Space Traffic Control to military Wasp, Kilo-Five-Five-Eight. Do you copy?”

Military ships didn’t have N numbers like civilian crafts, instead they had a much shorter ID number. The first letter indicated the classification of the vessel, while the numbers after were unique to that ship.

“Military Wasp Kilo-Five-Five-Eight to Space Traffic Control, we copy,” the pilot replied automatically. “We’re not looking to dock, just requesting a conditions report.”

“Nothing major in the past twenty-four hours and nothing expected in the next forty-eight. Sending the full specs to your ship now,” you said, quickly doing so on your computer.

A few moments later, she confirmed, “Received. Thanks, Control. We’ll be heading out now.”

“Fair skies. Control over.”

“And following seas. Wasp over.”

It seemed a bit silly to you when you started as an STC, to say an old Naval blessing every time you ended a conversation with someone, considering that you were in space so there were no skies or seas to speak of. But soon it became second nature to you. You found that most civilians just echoed ‘fair skies’ back to you, but military personnel would actually complete the phrase.

As soon as you had turned your outgoing feed off, you got right back into it with Quebec, closing your eyes and putting a hand over your chest as you went on with your impassioned opinion, “I think having an archnemesis livens things up. Especially around here.”

“I thought that’s what I was for?” He teased.

“Do you want to be my archnemesis instead?”

“Could be fun.” You imagined him shrugging with a lopsided grin on his face. “Are you taking applications?”

“Only for you.”

“Ooh, I feel so special.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired of wasting time and brainpower on Indy of all fucking people.” You kicked your feet up on the desk, eyes focused on the other tower now as you grinned at it. You always left shifts with Quebec with sore cheeks. “I need someone more on my level anyway.”

“Are you saying if I become your archnemesis then you’ll think about me all the time?” His voice curled around your ear, still playful but not quite the same friendly banter as before. You weren’t sure when it started, but there were moments like this, between your taunting, and poring your hearts out to each other, and rousing games of audio rock-paper-scissors, and actual work, that the mood… shifted.

You bit the tip of your thumb to keep from literally screaming, taking a second to compose yourself before answering. “Mm… maybe.”

“Because then you’re already my archnemesis.”

Muting your mic, you then literally screamed and pumped your fist into the air victoriously. After a deep inhale, you turned your mic back on, unable to contain your giddiness in your one-word question, “Really?”

A hand landed on your shoulder, and you let out an embarrassing yelp directly into the mic, whipping around to see the STC who was taking the next shift from you. “Fucking—Delta! What the fuck, man?”

Quebec was now laughing directly in your ear over the headset, and you took one ear off to hear what Delta said back to you.

“I’ve been here for the past two minutes. I thought you saw the light.” He indicated to the red light above your station that flashed when someone opened the door to your tower. You must’ve had your eyes shut when Delta came in and missed the signal. Delta looked entirely unamused and a little disgusted as he looked down at you, continuing, “Anyway, I’m ready and I can’t listen to you and Quebec do… whatever that is anymore.”

Your stomach dropped out of your ass at his words. What the hell did your conversation with Bec sound like to other people? Apparently bad. You barely knew Delta, only interacting with him during shift hand-offs, and, yeah, he seemed a bit uptight, but still, this was embarrassing.

Quebec was no longer laughing, now coughing and sputtering on the other end of the line too. You meekly put the mic back on the desk and took the headset off, handing it over to Delta. He took disinfectant wipes to the headset, waving them in the air for the solution to dry before putting them on and taking the seat which you had just vacated. You shuffled over to the table by the door where your bag was, as well as the IN/OUT log, which you signed before hurrying out.

Returning to the hall where your crew cabin was, you walked by an open door and stopped to poke your head in, beaming at the woman sitting on her bunk. “Hey, Uni!”

“Hey, Zulu,” the STC on your team—Uniform Lima was her full call name—lifted her hand in greeting. “Just get off shift?”

“Yeah, I was going to grab something to eat and head to the gym before sleeping. Want to come?”

“I already worked out, but I could eat,” she agreed.

“Let me get out of my jumpsuit then we can go. You pick.”

Indy was the only STC who was a gym rat to your knowledge, but being in space, working out and supplements were just a fact of life in order to prevent muscle atrophy and other deterioration of your body. You were used to it, having spent plenty of time on spaceships growing up. Going to the gym with a buddy made the mandatory exercise regimen go by a lot quicker.

After changing into casual clothes appropriate for the gym, you grabbed Uni and headed out. She was a few years older than you, not nearly Pops’ age, but you knew she had been here for a little while before you started. Uni was a tall woman, tall enough that you had to crane your neck a little to look up at her, with dark black hair that she kept cropped close to her head. There were a few premature specks of grey at the back, which you never mentioned to her in case she hadn’t noticed.

“You were on shift with Quebec today?” She asked casually.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you answered. “You… checked the schedule?”

“Just to see when I was working. You had your dopey little smile on, so I figured.”

You covered your mouth with both your hands, squinting at her over them. “What are you talking about?”

“No, I think it’s cute. You guys are so cute when you talk about each other.”

“He talks about me?!”

She burst into laughter, fondly patting the top of your head. “Gotcha.”

“You’re mean,” you huffed, swatting her hand away. “Mean and awful and a liar—”

“I wasn’t lying!” You friend defended herself. “He does talk about you when we’re on shift. And it is very cute, too. I just also gotcha by bringing it up.”

The two of you had arrived at the food court that never closed, and she started towards one of the options. You followed, not caring where you ate right now, and also desperately needing to continue this conversation.

“What does he say, Uni?” You pleaded, shaking her by the arm as you got in the short line. Time was pretty meaningless on a space station in the middle of nowhere, constantly getting travelers arriving and departing, so people ate whenever they pleased. The only ones who tended to keep a pretty regular schedule were the crew—except STCs, of course.

“He talks about you the most, out of all the STCs. It’s always Zulu this, Zu that. He knows we’re friends, so he asks about how you’re doing if you guys haven’t been scheduled together for a while, stuff like that.”

You dug your toe into the metal panel under you as you thought about it. Suddenly, your friend was pinching your cheek and cooing at you, “Cute!”

“Uni!” You whined and smacked her hand away, cradling your now-tender skin. She laughed as the two of you shuffled up in line.

The days all tended to blur together on the space station if you weren’t careful. Time was pretty meaningless in the middle of nowhere with no seasons or daylight to give your body cues. STCs mostly relied on shifts and tower cycles as units of time—the duration of a shift, and how long you were assigned to one tower before you moved to the opposite side of the station.

You were back on shift with Quebec, and so far, it had been a busy one. You’d barely had time to breathe between arrivals and departures, much less chitchat. Finally, during what seemed to be a lull, you pulled out your bag of food from your bag.

“Alright, that’s it,” you huffed. “I’m eating dinner.”

“What do you have tonight?” He asked.

“Didn’t have time to run to the convenience store today so it’s just some snacks and stuff I had in my room. Might have to make a vending machine run, sorry.”

“Look in the minifridge.”

“What? Did you rig it to explode?” You pushed your rolling chair back to grab the edge of the fridge, pulling the door open to peer inside.

“You’ll just have to find out.”

A plastic container greeted you, and you grabbed it, already spotting something green inside. Setting it and your mic back down on your desk, you took the lid off with a pop, eyes bugging out of your head as you looked at the green and white cubes. The color and shine alone told you that these weren’t grown in an ag-bubble, these were imported straight from Earth.

“Quebec…” You breathed out in awe. “You did not.”

“You can’t justify spending that much on something you’re going to digest, but I can,” he replied kindly. “Go ahead, eat. Happy one year at the station.”

“I didn’t even remember that was today,” you admitted.

You grabbed a cube between your fingers, not bothering to find utensils. The best part was licking your fingers after, in your opinion. The fruit was juicy and sweet, no bitterness from the rind at all, and so much more flavor than ag-bubble fruit could ever develop. You felt tears well up in your eyes, embarrassingly.

“God, it’s so good. Thank you,” you mumbled through your half-eaten honeydew. “I wish I could share it with you right now.”

“No, don’t worry about me,” he said, and you heard a faint pop of another plastic lid opening on his end of the line. “They were selling it by weight. I had them send some to your tower and some to mine.”

You smiled at the tower across the landing dock. “We are sharing it right now.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Have you ever been on a picnic, Bec? Like, a real one, outside on a blanket with a picnic basket on the grass with fresh air and food and your friends and family?”

“Once, when I was really little. I don’t remember much about it. My mom showed me a picture,” he mused. “Have you, Zu?”

“No, never. I was born on a mining colony. Never breathed fresh air in my life, or been to Earth. Always been in ships, stations like this, or firmaments.” Firmaments—man-made structures on the surface of planets whose conditions were not naturally habitable for humans. Within the firmaments, the air quality, pressure, temperature, and planet’s surface could be regulated in order to allow for human survival. The actual mining typically happening outside of the firmaments, however, and that was only one reason that it was so dangerous—and lucrative.

“What about your parents?”

“They weren’t born on Earth either, never saw the big deal about going to visit.” You shrugged, popping another piece of melon in your mouth. “What about you?”

“My parents were born on Earth. They wanted me to be born there too, but I came a little early while they were on a trip to a nearby resort planet. The closest hospital was on its moon…”

“Did you grow up on Earth then?”

“Visited after I was born, went back and forth for a good bit of my childhood, but my parents just liked traveling too much to stay in one place.”

“My family moved around a lot too. Mining pays good, but you have to move with the materials. There’s always some hot new mineral in vogue that’s paying more than the last thing everyone wanted. You never want to stick around until a mine dries up.”

“How long does that take? Like, how much did you move around?”

“Depends. Sometimes we were there for a few weeks or months, sometimes years.”

Quebec was quiet for a moment, and you took the opportunity to eat two more pieces of honeydew. Then, he said, “Zulu?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you take this job? All the way out here?”

“I didn’t want to work in the mines with my parents my whole life. Saw the opening and figured I might as well give it a go,” you answered simply. “What about you?”

“Kind of similar. More desperate, I think,” he admitted. “I was in med school, actually, and I was absolutely miserable. Just at rock fucking bottom. I told my parents I was going to quit and they said I couldn’t unless I either enrolled in law school, or got a job. This was the first one I found.”

You blinked, watching the dark dot in the window across from you. “Wow. I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.”

“Haven’t talked to anybody about it since coming here.”

“Why’d you ask me that then? You had to have figured I would’ve turned the question back on you.”

“I… don’t think I knew I was going to tell you that until I said it.”

“You know you can always talk about whatever with me, Bec.”

“I know,” he replied warmly. “Same for you. I’m all ears.”

“So you quit med school, took the first job you could find and just happened to find something you liked doing?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I did not take to being an STC at all initially. I wanted to quit after my first week. I was on this stupid station in the middle of nowhere starting all over again at a job that paid considerably less than the surgeon I was supposed to be. I was miserable, and lost, and kept thinking that they were right and I should just put my head down and be a doctor or a lawyer or whatever. It felt like I could’ve disappeared from the universe and nobody would notice.” He sighed, and you felt your heart twist in your chest. “Then during my second week, another new STC started, and we ended up on a shift together. And you said—there’s no way you remember this, Zulu, it’s so… but—What do you remember about that shift?”

You rifled through your memories desperately for something, anything specific, but came up empty. “Not much, I mean, it was like my second one, I think. So I was still pretty nervous about doing everything right, and I remember meeting you, but I don’t think we even talked much outside of small talk, right?”

“That’s great. I mean it, I love that you’re just like this, that you weren’t trying to do it,” he laughed with his whole chest, and you smiled fondly, not feeling like he was laughing at you at all. “Anyway, it was pretty dead that shift, and in one of the quiet times, you got on the mic and you told me to look outside. I thought there was a ship or something going on. But then you said, ‘I’ve never seen these stars before.’ Which made me realize I hadn’t even looked at the stars since arriving at the station. At the end of the shift, you said, ‘Talk to you next time, Quebec.’ And I decided ‘sure, I’ll stick around until next time, see what else she’ll say.’” His words made you snicker softly, and he continued, “And then you just kept saying these little, interesting things, or things that made me smile for the first time in years, or you’d ask questions and let me talk about whatever I wanted… I kept putting off quitting until I wasn’t half-bad at being an STC and didn’t hate living at the station anymore.”

“Bec…” You murmured, fidgeting with the wire of your headset. “Do—”

A dot popped up on your monitor then, and Quebec said, “Ah, there’s the ambassador.”

Because of where you were in space, the last station for a very long while along the intergalactic travel routes in this region, it wasn’t unusual for you to receive special arrivals. Politicians, ambassadors, military leaders, celebrities, you’ve seen a lot in your one year as an STC. Today, an ambassador from Earth was stopping over on their way to an intergalactic peace conference. You and Quebec had received the briefing for the landing in advance to your crew emails, so the ship information that appeared along with the dot was already familiar to you. When the VIPs were of this caliber, all of the higher-ups on the ship would be at the docking port to greet them. The protocols for landing were also slightly different, meaning that having two STCs was necessary for much of it.

“Space Traffic Control to military Heavy, Papa-Zero-Four-Niner. Do you copy?” Quebec took over the initial paging.

“Military Heavy, Papa-Zero-Four-Niner to Control, we copy,” the pilot’s voice came back quickly. “Sending out recognition codes…”

An incoming message from the Heavy flashed up on your screen, and you accepted. Quebec read his out first, then you got on the mic to read out your three-number code.

“Great, thanks,” the pilot acknowledged. “Are we clear for landing?”

“Yes,” Quebec confirmed.

The two of you seamlessly worked through the pre-landing protocols with the Heavy’s pilot. Finally, you just had to wait for the craft to get closer before you could begin the next phase: landing. The pilot dropped off the comms momentarily to address something internally, promising to get back on when it was time to begin the landing. That just left you and Quebec again.

“Wonder why they even keep having these intergalactic peace conferences,” he mused. “They only invite the factions that are already at peace, never the ones with any tension.”

“It’s symbolic, I guess,” you shrugged. “Maybe they talk about how to go about achieving peace with the ones that aren’t there? Or to promote continued peace among the ones that are there?”

“It’d probably be worse to stop at this point, huh?”

“Yeah, might not look good if they stopped holding the intergalactic peace conference that’s been going on for the past couple decades.”

“Still, Th’irin always has something to say about—” A heavy clunk punctuated the end of his words, followed by silence. Not fuzzy silence, like when the mic was on but the person on the other end was quiet. Dead silence, like the mic had been shut off entirely.

“Bec?” You said uncertainly. Someone must have come into his tower, and he was addressing them off-mic.

When he still hadn’t responded a minute later, even to tell you to hold on or wait a minute, you started getting nervous. Sitting forward in your seat, you futzed with cover on your microphone as you called into it again.

“Quebec? You there?”

Nothing.

You paged him properly this time, hitting the button to flash the lights in his tower as you enunciated as clearly as possible, “Space Traffic Control Tower One to Tower Two, Quebec Kilo, do you copy?”

At the same time, your hands rushed to send a message to him via the STC system.

[TOWER1: Q? DO YOU COPY?]

Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears as you desperately went to send another message via the ship intranet to your superiors instead. As soon as you had started drafting it, though, you cursed under your breath and deleted it. They would be down at the dock waiting to receive the ambassador, not at their usual stations with monitors ready to receive emergency alerts from the STC towers.

“Military Heavy to Control, do you copy?” The pilot’s voice cut through the sound of your heartbeat, and you banged your fist on the desk in frustration. You quickly went into the system and switched it over to be a dual STC setup on your monitors since Quebec apparently wasn’t going to be able to help.

Turning your outgoing feed back on, you confirmed, “Control to Heavy, we copy.”

Now with both set of STC controls, you had to move twice as fast to input everything and go through the landing protocols with the pilot. All the while, in the back of your mind, the black put of worry in your stomach only grew and grew.

In between operations, you were drafting a new message, this time to the other STCs. You doubted any of them were going to be checking their staff emails not on duty, but you needed some kind of help. It was a succinct SOS, and you had to focus back in on landing the ambassador’s ship again, and sent it off without another thought.

“Your partner’s quiet,” the pilot commented, their tone light, and you knew they meant nothing by it. “Did you guys rock paper scissors for who would take what parts?”

“Mm, yeah,” you forced out a laugh through gritted teeth, smacking the page button for Quebec’s tower again—just in case.

The light in your tower flashed, and your heart nearly exploded with hope that it was Quebec signaling back to you, that something had just gone awry with his mic and he was still there. Then a hand tapped your shoulder, and you were thrown back into despair again.

It was Pops, the lines on his forehead clear as he furrowed his brows in confusion. He held his digipad out to you, your SOS message on it. You held a finger up to gesture for him to wait a moment as you were receiving pertinent information from the pilot.

“Seven-Five, Two-Zero,” you echoed, entering the numbers as you said them. “Copy.”

Taking one ear of your headphones off, you switched your outgoing comms off before immediately rambling, “It’s Quebec! He dropped off the mic like five minutes ago and he’s not answering, Pops!”

The older man held his hands out in a ‘calm down’ motion. “You’re sure he’s not just getting a snack?”

“No, no, he’d tell me! It was in the middle of his sentence, and we’re literally landing an ambassador’s ship right now!” You sputtered out, gesticulating between your controls and the large ship right outside your window. “He wouldn’t just leave! Something’s wrong!”

His jaw set and he gave one solemn nod. “How far are you?”

“The rest is automated now. But I can’t—”

“I’ll monitor,” he cut you off. “You go check on Quebec.”

“He’s all the way—”

“Now, Zulu!”

You shot to your feet and threw your headphones off and onto the desk. Running from the control room, you didn’t even stay to see Pops take over the station like you’re supposed to.

The space station was huge. It was a thirty-minute walk on a good day from one side to the other, but now that you had fully been overtaken by panic, all of the worst-case scenarios playing in your mind, your stomach consuming itself in fear and anxiety crushing your lungs, it felt insurmountable. Probably your only saving grace was the fact that word had gotten around about the ambassador’s arrival, so lots of people were down on the observation decks above the landing bay to watch the ship dock rather than milling through all the halls that you were currently sprinting through. Even the crew-only shortcuts that you had access to—which you knew were faster—felt like agony to wait for. Standing around in the elevators felt like standing in lava despite the fact that you knew they were moving 100x faster than it felt. The crew corridors were narrower, and you cut corners too close, banging your shoulder or elbow a few times. In your impatience, you lost the location of Tower 2 a couple times on the directory when selecting your destination in a transporter, screaming and kicking the wall in frustration. The pain distracted you from all the what-ifs, and grounded you back into this moment, so you didn’t actually mind it much.

You clutched the handles of Tower 2’s elevator so tightly your fingertips went numb, gnawing on your bottom lip until well past the point you tasted blood. Finally, you were at the control room, and you damn near pried the doors open yourself. Pushing yourself through the doors as they opened, you probably bruised your shoulder again, but you hardly registered it.

Under the red light that flashed to announce your arrival, a man was sprawled on the floor between the chair and the control station. You ran over, pulling the chair away to reach him. He was face-down, and you took his headphones off to roll him over.

“Quebec!” You shook his shoulder a little less than gently.

You didn’t immediately see any sign of injury and grabbed his wrist to try to find a pulse. It was faint, but there, and when you put your hand under his nose, you could feel his shallow breaths against your skin. He didn’t rouse, though, and that was when you saw a drop of blood trailing out of his ear.

“Oh, God,” you muttered, scrambling to your feet to lunge for the bright blue medical emergency button by the door. The button lit up, and you ran back to grab his headphones and mic.

“—ation EMTs will be at your location in less than two minutes. Please communicate the nature of your emergency if you’re able,” the dispatcher’s voice requested.

“I just found the STC in this tower passed out. He’s got blood coming out of his ear and he won’t wake up,” you said.

“Do you know how long he’s been in this state?”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Okay. Any sign of injury?”

“No, nothing. He was fine, he was talking and just, I don’t know, collapsed I think!” You didn’t mean to snap at the dispatcher, but you were freaked out by how little you knew.

“Alright, okay. I understand. The EMTs will be there very soon. Can you stay on the line with me in the meantime?”

“Yeah.”

“Who is the patient?”

“An STC—call name Quebec Kilo.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m an STC too. Zulu Echo. We were on shift and he just dropped off the mic in the middle of a landing.”

“Got it, got it.”

“Where the EMTs?” You asked, feeling for Quebec’s breaths again.

“They’re in the elevator now.”

The elevator door opened then, and your throat seized up anxiously. “They’re here. Thank you.”

“I’ll hang up now. Goodbye, Zulu Echo.”

You took the headphones off as the two EMTs swarmed Quebec’s body, watching them start evaluating his vitals with their field scanner.

“We have the information you gave dispatch,” one EMT informed you. “We’re going to take him to the infirmary in this sector.”

You grabbed the edge of the desk to pull yourself to your feet. “I’ll—”

“Elevator isn’t big enough for all of us,” the other informed you regretfully as they had started loading him onto a stretcher. “You can take the next one.”

“Right. I’ll be right behind you.”

You watched them take him out, and as soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, felt your knees buckle under you. Barely catching yourself against the desk, your eyes filled with tears, which you barely saw the flash of a red light through. The elevator wasn’t opening again, though, so you figured it must be a page.

Picking up the headphones and mic, you kept it on the internal system as you croaked, “Pops?”

“Oh, Zulu, there you are,” his relief was evident in his voice. “How is he?”

“Bad, I think,” you confessed, tears slipping down your face. “He was out cold, and there was blood coming from his ear. The EMTs took him—”

“You know where?”

“Sector 2 infirmary.”

“So what are you doing still talking to me?”

“Right. Bye, Pops.”

Your hands were trembling as you set the headphones down on the desk. With a trembling breath, you recalled the elevator. It was empty when you stepped on, and you numbly selected down. The infirmary was close by to the tower, and you wiped your eyes in the hall outside before entering.

It was eerily empty, and your stomach dropped. You dug your nails into your palm to try to get control of yourself again. Finally, a nurse came out of the hallway and into the main hallway where you were, clearly surprised when he spotted you.

“Sorry about that.” He focused a frazzled smile on you. “How can I help you?”

You were sure you were mirroring his expression. “I’m here to see somebody. He should’ve just come in with the EMTs…?”

“Yes, the doctors are working on him.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I’ll take you to where you can wait.”

You were put into a small patient room with a bed and one chair. After pacing for who knows how long, your feet finally got tired enough that you sat down in the chair. You didn’t sit for very long before you were back on your feet, pacing again. That repeated at least three times before you finally heard something from the hall.

Your eyes were already on the doorway when a gurney was pushed in, Quebec laying atop it. Stepping out of the way of the two nurses who transferred him from the gurney to the bed and started hooking him up the monitoring equipment, you were then pulled aside by the doctor who had come in with them.

“Are you a friend?” She asked.

“Yeah, we work together,” you confirmed. “I called it in.”

“Good timing,” she commented lightheartedly. She filled you in on the issue—most of the specifics went over your head, but it didn’t sound good—then gave you the prognosis, “We plugged everything back up. He’ll have a headache for a few days, and needs to take it easy for the next week. But other than that, he’ll be fine.”

“Really?” You couldn’t believe your ears.

“How far medicine has come, huh?” She chuckled. “Something like that would’ve killed him a decade ago. But he can go on like it never happened now.”

You looked over at where Quebec’s eyes were still closed, still unable to calm your panicked heart despite the doctor’s reassuring words and relaxed demeanor. “When will he wake up?”

“An hour or so.” She nodded towards the door. “If there’s nothing else, I’ve got a couple other patients to check on.”

“Oh, go for it.”

“Push the call button if you need anything, or just holler. Small infirmary, someone will hear you.”

With her departure, it was just you and Quebec. You pulled the chair up to his bedside, gathering your knees to your chest in a self-soothing grasp. His heart monitor beeped steadily in the background, and you noticed that his hand was hanging off the bed a little bit, so you reached forward to pick it up and rest it over his abdomen like his other one. There was a small piece of gauze affixed under his ear, and you recognized it as the ear that had been bleeding earlier.

“I’m never letting you live this down, Quebec,” you stated through a sniffle. “Every time you bring up that Tanker showing up while I was at the vending machine, I’m going to bring up you passing out while we were in the middle of landing an ambassador’s ship.”

He continued resting, chest rising up and down.

“So you better wake up soon, so I can start teasing you.” You poked his shoulder before taking your hand back and wrapping your arm around your knees again.

For the first time since you entered Tower 2, you took a moment to process what Quebec actually looked like. Dark brown hair, bangs falling out of the way of his forehead and pieces curling around his ears, and a freckle under his right eyebrow.

You sighed, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Of all the times you’d let yourself daydream about finally meeting Quebec in person, this was absolutely not how it went. Usually, it was something like bumping into each other while you were switching crew cabins, or you just so happened to go to a more centrally located place to eat and started talking to a handsome stranger and found out that it was him. Funny enough, you never thought of actually asking Quebec to hang out off-shift. You were more than happy with what you had, fully content with the knowledge that nobody in the universe knew him better than you, and vice versa. So what if other people knew what he looked like or knew his real name? That never felt important.

Before you realized it, your eyes were fluttering shut, your ears continuing to listen to the rhythm of the vitals monitor. Eventually, a confused grunt caught your attention, and you looked up quickly.

Quebec was hesitantly squinting one eye open, rubbing his other as he seemed to be struggling to adjust to the bright lights in the room. You stayed quiet as you let him wake up a little more and acclimate, getting two eyes open and blinking as he registered first the hospital gown he was wearing and infirmary bed he was laying in, then did a sweep around the room, brown gaze landing on you.

“Hey, Bec,” you greeted him gently, offering a small smile. “How do you feel?”

“Zu?” His voice was hoarse, gaze unblinking as he reached a hand towards you.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you confirmed, taking his hand between both of yours. “You had uhm, a problem. The doctor can explain—But you’re better now.”

He clutched his head, and you winced sympathetically.

“Your head will hurt for a bit, but other than that, all better,” you corrected yourself. “You feel okay?”

He nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “You came all the way here?”

“You passed out in the middle of us landing the ambassador’s ship,” you told him frankly, a hint of teasing in your tone. But your voice wavered as you added, “I was worried sick. Found you on the floor of the tower.”

“Ah, sorry. Thank you.” He squeezed your hand.

“No way I was going to let you die, Quebec. I mean—What if they started putting me with Indy instead?”

He was just staring at you, mouth parted, before a soft smile came across his features, two dimples marking his cheeks. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” You chuckled nervously.

“That you’d be the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.”

You covered your face as you laughed and shook your head. “Quebec—”

“Kun.”

“What?”

“That’s my real name,” he hummed. “Qian Kun.”

“Kun,” you sighed fondly. “I knew you’d have dimples.”

“What?” He giggled, touching one of his cheeks. “You could hear my dimples?”

“It was a hunch.”

He looked down at the IV in his arm. “They’ve got me on some good stuff.”

“Yeah, they do,” you agreed.

“I mean it, though.”

“Mean what?”

Kun turned over on his side to face you. “You’re beautiful, Zulu.”

You traced the lines of his brows, his freckle, his eyes, his nose, the curve of his smile, his cupid’s bow, and his jaw with your eyes. “Y/N. That’s my name. Y/L/N Y/N.”

He mouthed it to himself first, slowly, then said it aloud, “Y/N. Thank you.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Kun.” You pressed a fleeting kiss to his hand that you were still holding. “Really.”

You kicked your feet up on the desk, tapping your toes in the air along to an imaginary beat. Clicking your internal comms line on, you asked, “So what are you doing after this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kun immediately teased back.

“Yeah, that’s why I asked, asshole,” you scoffed.

“Ouch, first day back on the job and this is how I’m treated?”

“Doctor said you’re fine, no need to throw yourself a pity party.”

He laughed, but answered your question nevertheless. “Gym and then dinner. Missed enough required exercise thanks to that little incident I’m going to start withering away.”

“I’ll have to find another archnemesis if you do.”

“So I am your archnemesis.” His grin was audible, and you could perfectly imagine it now, bright and dimpled. “Well, I can’t have you thinking about anybody else.”

You looked over your shoulder before offering, “Want some company?”

“Sure. Sector 1?”

“Damn, you really that afraid of withering away you’re willing to come all the way over here?”

“I was being a gentleman—”

“Wait, your favorite restaurant is in the Sector 1 food court,” you said knowingly. “Would that have anything to do with it?”

“It’s a win-win—you don’t have to come all the way over here, I get to see you…”

“And eat at your favorite spot,” you snickered. “Smart, Bec.”

“I would’ve offered even if I hated all the food in Sector 1, Zu,” he declared dramatically. “Hand on my heart.”

Despite knowing each other’s real names, it was still habit (and technically proper) to use call names on shift. You checked on him every day during his recovery over the past week, so you’d gotten used to calling him Kun as well.

“Uh-huh,” you agreed mildly. “I’ll meet you in the gym at 1630 then.”

“It’s a date.”

After getting through your mandatory workout for the day, you and Kun meandered over to the Sector 1 food court. Despite your teasing, you also got food from the same restaurant as him. He didn’t move to take a seat in the food court, however, jerking his head for you to follow him. With your bag of food in one hand, you did so, intrigued. Kun apparently had a destination in mind, weaving through the crowds with intention and reaching back to grab your free hand to not lose you.

Soon, you arrived at a crew-only observation deck devoid of other people. You couldn’t recall if you had been to this particular one before, but the door slid shut behind you two and the sounds of the rest of the ship faded away. This particular deck was pointed directly at a large plasma cloud, glowing with energy and all sorts of swirling pinks, purples, and greens.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” you gushed, sitting on the ledge under the window.

“I like seeing how the cloud has changed whenever I’m in Sector 1,” Kun said, sitting next to you. “It’s different every time.”

You drew your gaze over to him, eyes catching on the faint line under his ear, marking where he’d been operated on just last week. It had healed very fast, of course, as all surgeries now did, and you reached out to touch the skin under it with a fingertip. “Do you feel okay, Kun?”

“Brand new.” He took your hand from the incision and laced your fingers together. “I promise, Y/N.”

“Good.” The two of you ate your dinner like that, hand-in-hand, watching the plasma cloud and stars, sometimes talking, and sometimes in silence. And that was more than enough.

⤷ masterlist

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

@classicroyalty @fairvtale @giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01 @fae-renjun

[toomuchtv85]

Leaving for College - Part 1

“What a beautiful day,” Bethany thought. She loved dark, cloudy, and rainy days. She was making her way to the bathroom after a crazy night. She noticed Blake already in there. He’s her “little brother,” although he’s only a year younger at eighteen than her nineteen. He was fit, not a body builder, but fit and healthy. He was at the gym almost everyday, unless he had hurt something which he’d take some time off. Thankfully, Bethany didn’t have to wait long since Blake was on his way out. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help but stare. His pretty blue eyes and brown hair, those prescription aviator glasses, and a tight, dull orange Columbia shirt. He smelled like coconut and mango with his bourbon and teakwood body spray from the men’s collection at bath and body works wafting through the air. It made her tingle a bit. “Rough night last night,” he asked. “Yeah, but I’m okay. I just have to pee really, really bad.” Oh, the bathroom is all yours. I’m going to play Fortnite for a while. You know I got the PS5 Pro with a new monitor. It’s awesome now!” “Cool. Knock yourself out.” “Oh, I will! See ya’!” As soon as he left, Bethany did her business but she noticed Blake’s shadow from under the door. He must have stood there watching, or listening to her pee. She smirked at the thought and couldn’t help but rub her clit to him spying on her. She kept watching under the door to see if Blake would peek under it or through the cracks, he didn’t. Disappointed but oddly turned on, she finished up and went to his room. True to his word, there he sat in his chair, taking to his squad. Good thing he has his headset on. He wouldn’t be able to hear her footsteps and thankfully, his room was dark. She hoped that her little brother felt the same tingling she did. This sneaking up on him was turning her on even more with each step. She could feel herself getting wetter. She surprised Blake and he jumped completely out of his chair. “Whoa! Beth! You scared the hell out of me, lol! What’s up?” “Oh, nothing. I’m bored wall of my friends are busy. I just want to hang out. Is that okay?” “Um, yeah. Sure. But won’t you be bored just watching?” “No, it does look kinda fun. Maybe I’ll get into it one day.” “Okay, well you can take the bed and watch.” She could tell he was checking her out. And why wouldn’t he, she thought. Her long blonde hair, blue eyes, B-cups, thick thighs, and a toned ass. She watched as he moved slowly to sit back down in his chair and put on his headset. Once he did that, Bethany knew he was oblivious to anything going on around him. She starts to rub her breasts and pinch her nipples from under her shirt. She slowly and carefully slid her hand down her pants. She hoped that Blake would like her pubic hair, she grew it for him after hearing him talk to his best friend one day while they decided on what porn to watch. She heard him mention that the hair turns him into a primal animal. She couldn’t take it anymore and took her shirt off. She walked over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. Startled, he looked up and saw that look in his eyes. The one that screams ‘what are you doing? I don’t care, I want you now!’ “Those are really nice, Beth. But you’re my sister. I mean, I am really attracted to you, but I don’t know if we should do anything.” “Ssshhh. It’s okay. Mom and dad aren’t here. They’re out getting stuff for my last day here before I leave for college. They be gone another two or three hours. I…am extremely confident that I can completely satisfy you in that amount of time.” Blake couldn’t believe it: his wildest dream has come true. And what’s more, he has just watched his big sis take off her shorts and panties. His mouth dropped and the sight of her, just as Bethany had hoped. “I knew you’d like me, bro. I grew this hair just for you.” Immediately, she saw him grow to his full length and sat down on his lap. “Sis. I want you.” Thankfully, he said it low enough to where his squad mates didn’t hear him. “I can tell,” she smirked.

[sofasoap]

Lastochka - Epilogue

Pairing : Nikolai x F!Reader ( OC/Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Family.

Part I , Part II, Interlude,Part III,Part IV,Part V

WARNING: Back to it's crack-ish fic route, with slight mention of PTSD, swearing, Mature theme.

I apologise if any depictions of symptons and military procedures might be incorrect.

Thanks to @homicidal-slvt for planting ideas into my brain. this whole series is all for you :)

My usual thanking @saltofmercury, mother of Mini, for lending me the character :) Please go and check out her fics!

“masterlist” for Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

“Papa, What’s that??”

“That is a C-27J Spartan.” “And and and that one??” 

“That my dear, is a Mi-24 Hind.”

“Papa knows how to fly all of these??” 

“Of course my принцесса. If it flies, Papa knows how to pilot them.”

Your daughter Anya, who is currently sitting on her father’s shoulder, looking down at him with her mouth wide open in awe. 

“If your papa knows how to keep your Ma and uncle Gaz inside the aircraft, that would be wonderful.” You mumbled as you came up beside your husband and daughter. “Oh my lastochka, you are still sour about it years later?”

“You nearly killed your wife that day.” you pouted, latching onto his arm. 

“I fell in love with my wife that day.” he looked down at you, winking as he pulled his aviators down. 

“Uncle uncle uncle poppaaaaaaa!!” Anya started wriggling around and waving as she spotted Ghost’s tall figure, followed by Gaz, Soap and Price. Lifting her off the shoulder with a bit of grunt, Nikolai sets Anya down. As soon as her little feet touched the ground, she ran straight to Ghost, latching onto his leg like a koala. 

“I win. Pay up.” Ghost smirks under his mask. He picks Anya up as she giggles away while he tosses her up high before catching her. 

Soap and Gaz grumbled as they fish out twenty pound notes each.

Gaz gave you a sheepish look, “ We were arguing who Anya’s favourite uncle is. So we thought this is the best way to settle.” You glared at the boys. “By betting money?” Gaz and Soap pointed at each other, ““His idea””.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, going by that, all three of you are losing. She’s going through the Poppa Price phase at the moment. She insists on taking her Poppa Price doll with her everywhere she goes.” pointing at the little backpack Anya has on, you can just see crochet doll Price’s head just peeking out from the opening of the bag. 

Gaz gifted you a whole set of dolls he crocheted when your daughter was born.

“.... Where did you get these made?” You gapped as you picked up the Soap doll, these are really well made, even down to the finest detail of the little scar on his chin. 

“ I made them.” Gaz smiled proudly as he took other dolls out of the bag. Ghost with his mask on and the forehead frown, Price with his signature boonie hat and little cigar in his mouth, Soap with his mohawk, Gaz with his Union Jack cap, Nikolai and his aviator and headset, and there is you too, in a little combat gear. “You need to give me photos of your parents, so I can make them too.” 

Who knows Gaz’s side hobby was knitting and crocheting? Now it make sense the scarf and jumper set he gifted you for your birthday years ago. 

“This is an odd place for a family outing.” Price commented as he came up and gave you a hug and kiss on the cheek, and turned to shake Nikolai’s hand. 

“What can I say, my daughter has inherited her father’s fondness for flying, she insisted us to bring her to the airshow when she saw it advertised on T.V.” you sighed as you looked at three boys playing with Anya. You were blessed to have your team family loving her as much as they have loved you. Few soldiers in their uniform walked past your group, gasping in awe. Taskforce one-four-one has a famous reputation and was well known amongst the military. You can just make out some of them mumblings,

“...isn’t that …Captain Price’s team….”

“Lady Fortuna??”

“... THE famous Lady Fortuna? The one that brought the Russian mafia to their knees?”

What? How did the rumour about your failed mission become a skewed legend? You shivered a bit, not a memory you wanted to recall. You clutch onto your husband’s arm. Sensing your distress, Nikolai pulls you in with his other arm, comforting you silently.

“... and she famously shut the Taskforce one-four-one men up over the chocolate biscuits.”

Oh heaven. The famous chocolate biscuit incident. You groaned as you can feel your husband’s body shaking with suppressed laughter, while Price facepalms, shaking his head. “I SPENT THREE DAYS BAKING THESE BISCUITS FOR THE WHOLE BARRACK, AND WHAT DID YOU BOYS DO??? ATE ALL OF IT?!!!!” 

Gaz and Soap sat on the mess hall dining bench, head bowing down, not daring to look you in the eyes. 

You finally came back to duty after over a year off to recover from your struggle with PTSD, and as appreciation and by popular demands by other soldiers, you baked a huge batch of your famous chocolate biscuit. 

And an hour later after leaving them on the kitchen bench, you discovered there were only a few crumbs and less than a handful left in the tupperware containers. 

You knew who the top two suspects were, and in no time you caught them in the other corner of the mess hall, eating away.

Ghost was watching the whole drama unfold, sipping on his tea. You turn and point your finger at him. “ YOU! I thought you would be the most sensible one, and don’t think you can get away with it! I can see the crumb on your lip!!” Simon quickly wiped his mouth and pulled down his mask, trying to deny any wrongdoing.You were in full lecture mode by the time Price swung by and looking for the biscuit, you dragged him by the shirt, not caring he is your superior, threw him onto the bench to sit with the other three men.

The four of them can see behind you as you yell at them without taking a breath, soldiers hearing there was biscuit but do a quick U-Turn when they see the hellfire that is on full flame.  You gained a second call sign after that, Lady of Hellfire.

“Ma!!!Papa!! Come come!! I wanna go see the planes!!” Anya’s tugging of your hand pulls you out from the memories of the past. Nikolai laughed as he picked his daughter up again and settled her into his arms.

“Alright! Now let’s go and look at that helicopter first… that’s the one Uncle Gaz and your Ma were rolling out from…and Oh that one over there.. That is a goodie too. I took your Ma on a date on that one…” You smiled as you looked at your teammate as they laughed at Nikolai’s conversation with our daughter.

Despite all the ups and downs. You were lucky to have Nikolai and your little Anya, and your brother and adoptive brother and uncle with you.

Makes all the challenges all worth it. 

принцесса= Princess Thank you to :

@homicidal-slvt,

@roosterr @preciouslittlecreature

@boughhs for sticking with me throughout the whole series. what started off as a joking idea for @homicidal-slvt, turned into a full fledge half crack half serious fic. It was a lot of fun writing it!! I might have two more drabbles for these two coming in next few days. If I can get my brains going :)

[midnightactual]

Walk

聞けよ 風さえ泣き そびえ立つ影の塔 [Hear me, oh soaring tower of shadows, where even the wind does weep] 撃たれて夜道を這うキミに灯をともせよ [Light your lamps for the wounded one who prowls the roads at night!] 忘れはしない キミのことは [I will not forget about you] かなわぬ道に なおひとり立ち [I still stand alone on this bleak and brutal road] 行けよ饒舌の 影よ来て導 [Go forth, oh loquacious shadows! Come and guide me!]

The final refuge of small minds was imagining that the world was simple. Engaging in follies such as treating it as though it were cast in black and white, imagining that there was only one kind of intelligence, and imagining that there was only one kind of power. The world cared nothing for such delusions—it cared not even to crush them. Illusions such as those would helplessly break themselves upon its splendorous multi-hued and multi-flavored wonder. That was simply the way of the world.

The staccato wash of rotor blades droned through Yoruichi's aviation headset, forming a humming backdrop to her drifting thoughts. The music her helicopter broadcast was an even more muffled rumble, more felt than heard, yet known intimately to her through countless hours of exposure. A voice crackled into her ears and stirred her from her rumination.

"Ten klicks out. Descending to one-five-zero meters. ETA three mikes."

"Affirmative," she replied calmly, drawing in a breath and straightening up in her seat. A mental timer began to tick down in her own mind, and she soon removed her headset, stowing it above. The whup whup whup whup of the Huey's rotors instantly filled her ears, but that only really served to help with marking time.

Power often lay less where it was actually concentrated, and more where it was perceived to be. Perception was, of course, exceedingly fallible. Accordingly, displays of power were necessary both for correcting perceptions as to where power seemed to be, and to suggest where it actually resided. Small minds might call that propaganda, yet once more that was simply the way of the world.

Yoruichi pulled a light blue beret from the right shoulder strap of the camouflage fatigues she wore, shaking it out and fluffing it before she put it on. Normally, she wasn't one to overly primp, but this was all part of the show. She adjusted it this way and that so it sat appropriately high and puffed atop her head rather than looking flattened or deflated, its silver badge proudly displayed while a few stray bangs poked out characterfully.

A beret was a lot like a souffle—you didn't want it to fall flat. She briefly wondered if they'd done something special with theirs during the filming of Street Fighter: The Movie. The trick was to get things looking as naturalistic as possible while still appearing to be the best version of themselves. A lack of attention to detail and overly-polished appearances were both distractions. It was why she'd picked well-worn fatigues, much as they had in that movie.

At last, she fussed with her matching blue cravat, then adjusted the rest of her uniform some to get it just so. Finally, she turned to her aide in the seat next to hers, gestured to herself, and gave a smoothly rotating gesture from thumbs-up to thumbs-down.

He flashed back a clear thumbs-up and received a nod in kind.

With that settled, she turned her attention out the nearer of the opened side doors to either side of the helicopter's fuselage, watching Rukongai whip by below them. This close to the Seireitei, it looked the same as it ever had—even from the air, it was nothing like what they'd managed to achieve further out. It felt sort of surreal to see it like this now from this vantage point, as though she'd fallen through time. To have such a perspective was a kind of power in itself. Then again, so was being able to simply appreciate the moment.

She had trained all of this crew, or trained their trainers, or trained their trainers' trainers. One of her powers was to change the state of the world such that she was able to delegate—to focus exclusively upon what only she could do, while trusting that others could handle themselves and even herself on her way to doing exactly that. It was why she had chosen to make her entrance this way—she didn't have to, but she could.

What was a clearer statement of power than, 'Because I can'?

Shinigami had long allowed themselves to believe that only the concentration of power was meaningful—that only being able to do things oneself was important. It had never come across as being especially important to Old Man Yama where his meals had come from, or how his laundry was done, or who filled out reports for him, or who stood watch for him. Anyone could do such things; all of it was 'expendable'.

Was it?

Who was actually expendable in the end? The world had delivered its answer already: Old Man Yama was gone. Another illusion of strength breaking across the bow of the unstoppable way of the world.

She would not be meeting with him, but with Shunsui, and Shunsui was no Old Man Yama. With all due respect to him, he was softer, and that was no insult—just as a sword needed ductility to keep its shape, a person needed a measure of softness to keep theirs. Some give was essential. Softness also invited being shaped and molded though—it invited impressions. She was here to make one.

The helicopter slowed and tipped up its nose to come to a halt just as the paving stones that denoted the edge of the Seireitei came into view. They were at the west gate, exactly like back then. Aizen wasn't waiting to drop the Seireimon at just the right moment this time, but there was a line between assertiveness and arrogance. Flying all the way to Sōkyoku Hill might come across as unnecessarily disrespectful.

Once they leveled back out, four of her men rappelled out the open doors from outward facing seats behind her own. A few moments later, the helicopter shuddered and lifted some as the old WW2-era Willys Jeep it was carrying underslung was detached. Well, it looked like a WW2-era Jeep, anyway—it was actually much lighter than the original article, having been rebuilt from more modern materials.

There was another brief pause to allow that detachment to move it out from below, then they finally touched down. The Huey's rotors audibly slowed and the music died as the engine was turned off. Everything would be pure theater now.

Yoruichi unbuckled her harness and got out with every confidence, not even bothering to stoop below the rotors and finding the four waiting for her, standing at attention. They saluted as she approached, her aide and two more guards following after. She returned the gesture sharply, and in her wake those four moved to form a perimeter around the Huey. None of them had any weapons, of course, but they didn't need them either—she had made sure of that—and she could see curious Shinigami gathering to look their way.

"Everyone remember where we parked," she chimed merrily, going to the front passenger's seat of the Jeep. Her aide took up the driver's seat, and the guards got in the back. She promptly allowed her reiatsu to flow forth some just before they began to drive down the Seireitei's western main boulevard at a pace which was neither hurried nor stately.

They'd only come to a stop when the Seireitei's changes in elevation brought the boulevard to an end, parking there. The remaining two guards took up a vigil, and Yoruichi proceeded on foot with her aide, taking up an easy and confident stride.

[es46]

Here's another facet to Skyla and Elesa that I find quite endearing (and probably should've reflected on a lot earlier, heh). Following the Memory Link in which Elesa decides to change her image, she's incorporated aspects of Skyla's own style into her new look. Principally she now has the shirt and shorts combo with a metal connector around the midsection, alongside featuring more blue in her design and a more dramatic take on the bangs. Could also interpret her new headset's visor as offering a stylised take on aviator glasses. In essence, a reflection of Skyla's design with more flair for the supermodel theme. Now I recognise it's something of a grasp, but I do find it a compelling dynamic that Elesa would be sincerely appreciative of Skyla being her best friend and confidant to the point of emulating her to a degree. Makes an adorable touch that the supermodel takes inspiration from her, and follows through to how Elesa considers Skyla's style worthy of the runway in Masters. Gets me musing then on how both of them, and other leaders, could have new looks in a BW3. In that case, what would you like to see as a new look for our old favourites?

[xrguru]

Getting Started with Virtual Reality Training: A Beginner’s Guide 

Virtual Reality (VR) training is revolutionizing the way individuals and organizations approach skill development. Whether you are looking to enhance technical expertise, improve soft skills, or explore immersive learning experiences, VR training offers an innovative, engaging, and effective learning environment. If you are new to the concept, this guide will help you understand what VR training is, its benefits, and how to get started. 

Why Choose Virtual Reality Training? 

If you are wondering why VR training is gaining popularity, here are some compelling reasons: 

Immersive Learning Experience – Traditional training methods rely on lectures, videos, and textbooks, but VR places learners directly in the action, making it easier to understand and retain information.   

Safe and Controlled Environment – In fields like medical training or industrial safety, VR allows learners to practice without real-world risks. Mistakes can be corrected without costly consequences. 

Enhanced Retention and Engagement – Studies show that immersive learning experiences lead to better knowledge retention. The interactive nature of VR makes learning more engaging and memorable.   

Cost-Effective Training – While initial VR setup costs can be high, it reduces long-term expenses related to physical training materials, instructor fees, and travel. 

Flexible and Scalable – VR training can be accessed from anywhere, making it ideal for both individuals and businesses looking to scale training programs efficiently. 

How to Get Started with VR Training 

If you are ready to dive into VR training, follow these steps: 

Identify Your Learning Goals  

Before choosing a course, determine what you want to achieve. Are you looking to develop technical skills, improve teamwork, or gain industry-specific training? Your goals will help you choose the right program.  

Choose the Right Hardware  

To experience VR training, you will need compatible hardware. Some popular VR headsets include: 

Meta Quest 2 – Affordable and wireless, ideal for beginners. 

HTC Vive – High-end headset suitable for advanced training. 

PlayStation VR – Good for entry-level experiences. 

Oculus Rift S – Offers a mix of affordability and immersive experiences. 

Make sure your chosen training course supports the headset you own. 

Select a Reputable VR Training Platform 

There are numerous online platforms offering VR training modules. Look for 

platforms that:  

Provide hands-on, interactive experiences.  

Are created by industry professionals or accredited institutions.  

Offer certifications upon completion. 

Set Up Your Learning Space 

To get the most out of VR training, ensure you have a dedicated space with minimal obstructions. This will allow you to move freely and interact with virtual environments without interruptions. 

Start with Beginner-Friendly Modules 

If you are new to VR training, start with basic modules before moving on to advanced topics. Many platforms offer introductory courses that ease you into the experience. 

Top Industries Benefiting from VR Training 

Healthcare: VR aids in surgery, patient interactions, and emergency training. 

Aviation: Pilots train in realistic flight simulations. 

Manufacturing & Engineering: VR teaches safety and equipment handling. 

Corporate Training: Businesses use VR for leadership, public speaking, and teamwork. 

Education: Interactive VR enhances teaching and learning. 

Master VR Skills: Find the Best Training Packages Today! 

For a high-quality VR learning experience, choose a trusted provider like XR Guru, a leading platform offering immersive training solutions across various industries. Access hands-on courses to enhance skills and career growth.  

Embrace the future of education and start your immersive learning journey today! 

Visit @ https://www.xrguru.com/marketplace

[gtrsimulator1]

The Ultimate Experience: The Best Racing Simulator and Flight Sim Cockpit Setup

The thrill of high-speed racing or soaring through the skies is something many dream of experiencing firsthand. With advancements in technology, it has become possible to replicate these sensations from the comfort of home. A high-quality simulation setup provides an unparalleled sense of realism, allowing enthusiasts to immerse themselves completely. Whether engaging in competitive racing or piloting an aircraft, having the right equipment is essential. The focus of this article is on achieving the best racing simulator experience while also creating an optimal Flight Sim Cockpit Setup for aviation enthusiasts.

The Essentials of the Best Racing Simulator

A true-to-life racing experience requires more than just a standard gaming console and controller. A dedicated setup featuring a sturdy frame, realistic pedals, and force-feedback steering enhances the immersion. The best racing simulator consists of a high-quality racing seat, an advanced steering wheel, and adjustable pedals to mirror real-life driving conditions. Incorporating a multi-screen display or a virtual reality headset further amplifies the realism, making each race feel as though it is happening on an actual track. In addition, a well-calibrated force-feedback system ensures that every turn, bump, and acceleration is felt just like in a real race car.

Choosing the Right Racing Components for Maximum Realism

The components of a simulation rig determine the overall experience. A responsive steering wheel with precision control is essential for maintaining an authentic driving feel. High-quality pedals that replicate real-world acceleration and braking dynamics play a significant role in performance. To achieve the best racing simulator experience, investing in motion platforms that simulate the car’s movements can add an extra layer of immersion. Adjustable cockpit settings ensure a comfortable yet realistic posture, allowing for longer and more enjoyable sessions. Additionally, sound design and audio integration create a lifelike racing atmosphere, where every engine roar and tire squeal can be felt as much as heard.

Optimizing the Flight Sim Cockpit Setup for True-to-Life Aviation

Aviation enthusiasts require a cockpit that mirrors the controls and layout of an actual aircraft. A well-designed Flight Sim Cockpit Setup features high-resolution displays, flight yokes or joysticks, throttle quadrants, and rudder pedals. These elements work together to provide an authentic piloting experience, whether flying a commercial airliner or a fighter jet. Properly placed monitors or curved screens allow for better visibility, replicating a real cockpit environment. Incorporating a VR headset can further enhance the realism, making the user feel as if they are truly inside an aircraft. A sturdy frame ensures stability, preventing unwanted movements that could disrupt the experience.

Selecting the Best Equipment for a Realistic Flight Experience

Choosing the right flight controls is crucial for an immersive experience. A professional-grade flight yoke or joystick provides precise handling, mimicking real-world aircraft maneuverability. High-quality rudder pedals add another level of control, allowing for smooth landings and precise navigation. The ideal Flight Sim Cockpit Setup includes realistic throttle controls that respond accurately to every input, enhancing the feeling of piloting an actual aircraft. Adjustable seating and ergonomic designs ensure long sessions remain comfortable, while high-fidelity sound systems complete the experience with authentic engine and environmental noises.

Achieving the Perfect Balance Between Racing and Flight Simulations

For those who enjoy both racing and flying, finding the right balance between the two can be challenging. Modular simulation rigs allow for seamless transitions between different setups, making it possible to enjoy the best racing simulator and an immersive Flight Sim Cockpit Setup without needing separate installations. Adjustable mounts for steering wheels, flight yokes, and control panels provide flexibility, ensuring that switching between simulations is quick and efficient. With the right setup, experiencing the adrenaline of racing or the serenity of flying becomes effortless, making every session as close to reality as possible.

[contentlibrary]

Bose Stirrup Yokes Repair Kit – A Complete Guide to Fixing Your Headset

Bose aviation headsets are known for their premium quality, noise cancellation, and comfort. However, with frequent use, certain components may wear out over time. One common issue many Bose headset users face is broken or weakened stirrup yokes—the small yet crucial parts that connect the ear cups to the headband. If you're dealing with this problem, the Bose Stirrup Yokes Repair Kit is your best solution.

In this guide, we’ll walk you through everything you need to know about the Bose Stirrup Yokes Repair Kit, why it’s important, and how to install it properly.

Why Do Bose Stirrup Yokes Break?

Stirrup yokes are a vital part of your Bose aviation headset. However, due to constant stress from wearing and adjusting the headset, they can develop cracks or break entirely. Some common reasons for this include:

Wear and Tear: Over time, plastic yokes become brittle and prone to breaking.

Frequent Adjustments: Repeatedly adjusting the headband can weaken the yokes.

Accidental Drops: Dropping your headset can cause yokes to crack or snap.

Extreme Temperatures: Exposure to high heat or cold can make the plastic more fragile.

If you notice cracks or instability in your headset’s yokes, it’s time to replace them before they completely fail.

What’s Included in the Bose Stirrup Yokes Repair Kit?

A standard Bose Stirrup Yokes Repair Kit typically includes:

Replacement Yokes (Left & Right): Durable, high-quality stirrups designed to match the original parts.

Screws & Fasteners: Essential for securing the yokes in place.

Installation Tool: Some kits may come with a small tool to help with the repair process.

Instruction Manual: A step-by-step guide for easy installation.

Before purchasing a kit, ensure it is compatible with your Bose A20, Bose X, or other aviation headset models to avoid compatibility issues.

How to Replace the Stirrup Yokes – Step-by-Step Guide

Replacing the stirrup yokes is a straightforward process that you can do yourself with minimal tools. Here’s how:

Step 1: Gather Your Tools

Before you begin, make sure you have:

The Bose Stirrup Yokes Repair Kit

A small Phillips screwdriver (if required)

A clean, flat surface to work on

Step 2: Remove the Old Yokes

Detach the Ear Cups: Gently pull them away from the headband.

Unscrew the Yokes: Use a screwdriver to remove the screws holding the yokes in place.

Carefully Slide Out the Old Yokes: Be gentle to avoid damaging any wires.

Step 3: Install the New Yokes

Align the New Yokes with the designated slots.

Secure with Screws from the kit.

Reattach the Ear Cups to the headband.

Step 4: Test Your Headset

Gently adjust the headset to ensure the yokes are firmly in place. If everything feels secure, your Bose headset is good as new!

Tips for Prolonging the Life of Your Stirrup Yokes

Handle with Care: Avoid excessive bending or twisting.

Store Properly: Keep your headset in a protective case when not in use.

Avoid Extreme Conditions: Keep it away from extreme heat or cold.

Regular Inspections: Check for cracks periodically and replace yokes before they break completely.

Final Thoughts

The Bose Stirrup Yokes Repair Kit is an essential accessory for anyone experiencing broken or weakened yokes on their aviation headset. With a simple DIY installation, you can restore your headset’s durability and comfort without spending a fortune on professional repairs.

By following the steps outlined above, you can easily replace your stirrup yokes and extend the life of your Bose aviation headset. If you’re looking for a high-quality replacement kit, make sure to choose one that is compatible with your specific Bose headset model.

[atom-aviation32]

Pilot Training: Your First Cockpit Experience Explained

Introduction to Pilot Training

Pilot training is the foundational step for anyone aspiring to fly aircraft professionally or recreationally. It equips students with essential knowledge, skills, and certifications required to operate an aircraft safely. From theoretical aviation concepts to hands-on cockpit practice, pilot training is a comprehensive journey that transforms beginners into skilled aviators. Programs like private pilot training or commercial pilot training cover a variety of aspects, including navigation, meteorology, and emergency handling. At First Cockpit, we focus on offering state-of-the-art training programs that ensure students are confident and prepared to tackle real-world challenges in aviation.

The Importance of Pilot Training

Pilot training is crucial for ensuring safety, precision, and compliance in aviation. It provides aspiring pilots with the expertise needed to handle aircraft, navigate complex airspaces, and respond to unexpected situations. Comprehensive training not only builds technical proficiency but also instills the discipline and decision-making skills vital for managing high-pressure scenarios. At First Cockpit, we prioritize hands-on learning and simulator sessions, giving trainees real-time exposure to flying. Proper pilot training ensures that every pilot becomes a responsible and skilled aviator, contributing to a safer and more efficient aviation industry.

What to Expect in Your First Cockpit Experience

Your first cockpit experience is a thrilling and memorable moment in your pilot training journey. It typically begins with familiarizing yourself with the aircraft controls, cockpit layout, and basic flight instruments. An experienced instructor will guide you through pre-flight procedures, including safety checks and system overviews. Once airborne, you’ll get to experience the exhilaration of controlling the plane under professional supervision. At First Cockpit, we ensure this milestone is both educational and exciting, laying the foundation for your confidence as a pilot. From takeoff to landing, your first cockpit experience is designed to inspire and motivate you to pursue your aviation goals with passion.

Preparing for Your First Cockpit Session

Choosing the Right Pilot Training

Choosing the right flight school is a critical step in your pilot training journey. A reputable school ensures you receive quality instruction, modern equipment, and access to experienced instructors. Begin by researching schools accredited by recognized aviation authorities, such as the Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA) or the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA). Visit their facilities to assess their aircraft fleet, simulators, and training environment.

Consider the type of pilot training programs offered, such as private pilot or commercial pilot courses, and ensure they align with your goals. Read reviews and testimonials from current or former students to gauge their experiences. Cost is another vital factor; compare pricing structures, including tuition, equipment, and examination fees. At First Cockpit, we pride ourselves on offering comprehensive training programs tailored to prepare you for success in the aviation industry.

Essential Equipment and Resources

Having the right equipment and resources enhances your learning experience during pilot training. Key essentials include a high-quality aviation headset to communicate effectively with instructors and air traffic control, a kneeboard for taking notes, and a logbook to track your flight hours and progress. Invest in pilot manuals and study guides covering topics such as aerodynamics, navigation, and weather patterns.

Flight simulator software is another valuable resource, allowing you to practice key skills at home. Comfortable clothing and sunglasses are important for a smooth training experience. At First Cockpit, we provide guidance on acquiring the best resources to ensure you are fully equipped for success. By having the right tools, you can focus on developing your skills and making the most of your training sessions.

Understanding the Cockpit Layout

Familiarization with Cockpit Instruments

The cockpit is the nerve center of an aircraft, and understanding its instruments is essential for safe and efficient flying. Instruments are typically grouped into six primary categories, known as the "six-pack": airspeed indicator, attitude indicator, altimeter, vertical speed indicator, heading indicator, and turn coordinator. These instruments provide crucial data about the aircraft's speed, altitude, orientation, and direction.

In addition to the six-pack, modern cockpits feature advanced avionics such as GPS navigation systems, multifunction displays, and communication radios. Familiarize yourself with these tools by studying manuals and practicing on flight simulators. During training sessions at First Cockpit, our instructors ensure you gain hands-on experience with every instrument, helping you understand their functions and applications. This foundational knowledge is key to building your confidence and expertise as a pilot.

Key Controls and Their Functions

The controls in a cockpit allow pilots to manage the aircraft's movements and systems. The yoke or control stick governs pitch and roll, enabling the aircraft to ascend, descend, or turn. The rudder pedals control yaw, helping maintain directional stability. The throttle adjusts engine power, influencing speed and climb rate.

Other essential controls include the flap lever, which modifies wing configuration for better lift or drag, and trim controls, which help maintain steady flight without constant yoke input. Modern cockpits also feature autopilot systems to reduce pilot workload during long flights. At First Cockpit, we emphasize hands-on practice with these controls, ensuring you understand their roles and can operate them confidently during your training flights. Mastery of these controls is crucial for smooth and precise aircraft operation.

Tips for Your First Cockpit Experience

Getting Comfortable with the Environment

Your first cockpit session can be both exciting and overwhelming. Take time to familiarize yourself with the surroundings, including the layout of instruments and controls. Sit comfortably, ensuring you can easily reach all controls and have a clear view of the instruments. Listen carefully to your instructor and ask questions if you’re unsure about anything.

At First Cockpit, we encourage students to take a moment to relax and focus on the experience. Feeling comfortable in the cockpit is the first step toward building confidence and developing the situational awareness necessary for successful flight training.

What to Focus On During Your Initial Lessons

During your initial lessons, concentrate on mastering basic maneuvers and understanding the aircraft’s behavior. Pay attention to the instructor’s guidance on throttle control, maintaining altitude, and smooth turns. Practice following a checklist for pre-flight and in-flight procedures, as this ensures safety and consistency.

Avoid feeling overwhelmed by trying to learn everything at once. Instead, focus on building a strong foundation of skills that will be expanded upon in future sessions. At First Cockpit, we design initial lessons to be manageable and rewarding, setting the stage for your growth as a pilot.

Evaluating Your Progress as a Pilot in Training

Understanding Flight Hours and Certifications

Flight hours are a key metric in your progress as a pilot. They represent the time you’ve spent flying or practicing in simulators under supervision. Achieving specific milestones, such as solo flights or cross-country trips, marks your advancement. Certifications, like a private pilot license (PPL) or commercial pilot license (CPL), require a minimum number of flight hours and passing written and practical exams.

At First Cockpit, we help you track your flight hours and prepare for certifications step by step. By understanding these requirements, you can stay motivated and focus on achieving your aviation goals.

Setting Goals for Your Training Journey

Setting clear, achievable goals is essential for maintaining motivation throughout your pilot training. Break your journey into smaller milestones, such as mastering takeoffs and landings, completing solo flights, or obtaining specific certifications. These milestones provide a sense of accomplishment and keep you focused on long-term objectives.

Regularly review your progress with your instructor to identify areas for improvement and adjust your goals as needed. At First Cockpit, we work closely with students to set personalized goals, ensuring a rewarding and structured training experience.

Exploring Drone Survey Services

About Drone Survey

Drone Survey is a leading provider of aerial surveying and mapping services, utilizing advanced drone technology to deliver precise and efficient results. Their innovative approach makes them a trusted partner for industries such as construction, agriculture, mining, and environmental management. By using high-resolution cameras and LiDAR sensors, Drone Survey ensures accurate data collection for topographical mapping, site inspections, and 3D modeling.

For pilot trainees, understanding the potential of drone technology offers an expanded perspective on modern aviation. Whether you’re pursuing traditional flight training or exploring drone operations, Drone Survey’s expertise highlights the evolving landscape of aerial solutions. Partnering with Drone Survey can provide valuable insights and opportunities for aspiring pilots and aerial professionals.

Conclusion: Embracing the Journey of Pilot Training

Pilot training is a challenging yet immensely rewarding journey that transforms aspiring aviators into skilled professionals. From your first cockpit session to mastering advanced maneuvers, each step builds your knowledge, confidence, and expertise. At First Cockpit, we are committed to guiding you through every phase of this process, offering top-notch instruction, modern equipment, and a supportive learning environment.

Embrace the challenges and celebrate your achievements along the way. With dedication and the right training, you can achieve your dream of becoming a proficient and confident pilot. Remember, the journey is as important as the destination, and First Cockpit is here to make it an unforgettable experience.

[ufqaviation123]

Experience Superior Sound Quality with UFQ Aviation's ANR Aviation Headset

Upgrade your flying experience with the UFQ ANR Aviation Headset. Designed for comfort and clarity, this advanced headset features Active Noise Reduction (ANR) technology to minimize cockpit noise, allowing for crystal-clear communication. Lightweight and durable, it ensures long-lasting comfort during extended flights. The UFQ ANR Aviation Headset is perfect for pilots who demand the best in audio performance and noise reduction. Enjoy superior sound quality and unmatched comfort on every flight with UFQ Aviation's premium headset. Fly with confidence and focus on what matters most—your journey. Order yours today!

[phantasy-castle]

Fucking aviation bullshit was such a waste of time and I can't believe I feel bad about it at all. They were making me use a fucking actual map and flight calculator; are you joking? CFI didn't advocate for me enough because it wasn't in his best interest; I don't fault him for it. That grumpy old fuck should be nailed to a wall though. Greasy motherfuckers got theirs and they shove it in your face not too dissimilar from a fat grandma who could only manage to become a school secretary in her half-a-century of living. Fuck all these people. I'm selling my headset and PS4 to pay to fucking fix myself. So tired of being told how to feel about shit.

[glo-mini-golf]

Explore The Best Virtual Reality Experiences in California with Glo Mini Golf

California is rapidly embracing Virtual Reality (VR) due to accessibility to advanced hardware and software. California's renowned innovation fuels its VR leadership, shaping the future of immersive experiences. Even major players in the VR sector are headquartered in this state, contributing significantly to its evolution. The state's dynamic entertainment industry is integrating VR for interactive storytelling and virtual adventures. This article is a guide for you to discover California's best VR experiences, from Virtual Reality gaming to awe-inspiring cinema and mind-blowing tech. 

The gaming world has been evolving under the influence of VR  and serving as one of the important sources of entertainment. One of the best platforms for an exceptional gaming experience is Glo Mini Golf, which comprises VR escape rooms, arcade games, and console games, a complete entertainment package for all ages. 

Let us see which VR trends are emerging in 2024, California.

Emerging Trends of VR in 2024, California

California is currently experiencing a dynamic transformation in the VR landscape with a strong focus on social interactions, enterprise applications, healthcare, education, the incorporation of augmented reality (AR), and improved accessibility of hardware. The effect of these emerging trends continues on the various aspects of society and business, which suggests a favorable outlook for the future of virtual reality.

Here are some of the top trends of Virtual Reality in 2024, California-

1. Extended Reality (XR) Integration:

The lines are blurring between VR, AR, and MR, creating a new reality (XR) that redefines how we experience the world. It has a wide range of applications, from best virtual reality gaming and entertainment to education and training.

2. Immersive Training and Simulation

Medical professionals can use VR simulations to practice surgeries in a risk-free environment. Another advantage would be the enhancement of their skills and confidence. This trend is transforming training across industries, from manufacturing to aviation.

3. VR in Healthcare:

In California, medical practitioners are adopting VR for patient therapy, pain management, and even remote consultations. This trend is enhancing patient care and medical training methodologies.

4. Collaborative VR Spaces:

Platforms like Spatial enabled post-pandemic era requirements of connecting physically. Through this, teams meet in virtual environments, fostering creativity and productivity.  

5. Evolving Entertainment Experiences:

The entertainment industry in California is embracing VR to provide more immersive and interactive experiences. VR arcades will teleport us to virtual worlds. The specially designed arcade lets you step into the cinema or game and make you the hero of your own story.

GLO has glow in the dark mini golf, an unforgettable, unique experience of endless virtual reality fun. It provides the most thrilling playing experience in the state-of-the-art retro atmosphere created on a glowing golf course.  

The mini golf glow in the dark has a dazzling golf course with hidden obstacle challenges and 27 unique and creative holes, providing a wholesome and enjoyable experience. 

6. Accessible VR Hardware:

Companies are making VR headsets that you can use on their own with very little setup. This makes overall accessibility of VR experiences easy and increases adoption among various demographics. 

Guide to Experience Best Virtual Reality in California

1. VR Arcades:

California's VR arcades are immersive adventures, offering a unique social experience and an unforgettable outing.

These areas become central hubs for socializing, where people can enjoy the variety of games equipped with top-notch VR gear to dive into virtual reality adventure.

The sophisticated equipment includes VR headsets, controllers, and motion-tracking systems, allowing visitors to step into realistic virtual worlds.  

VR arcade setups are spacious with designated play areas, guaranteeing a secure and enjoyable environment for participants.

Arcade setups are increasing all across California for players of all ages. GLO Mini Golf’s GLO Arcade has the arcade game experience with its exciting collection for beginners and seasoned enthusiasts. 

The multiplayer options enable multiple groups to compete against each other in the virtual realm. These venues also host VR tournaments and events, fostering a sense of community among gaming enthusiasts.

Book your arcade escapade today! (Starting at just $30 per person)

2. Theme Parks: 

The cutting-edge virtual reality experiences in California have arcades offering a wide variety of experiences for all ages and interests. 

From virtual reality gaming, simulations, and experiences across different genres comprising adventure and horror genres to educational content, virtual reality delivers truly immersive experiences.

Some virtual reality theme parks create themed environments to enhance the overall experience. These could be based on popular franchises, historical periods, or imaginative worlds.

Some VR theme parks incorporate educational elements, offering experiences that provide insights into history, science, or other subjects.

Feel the Force like never before with VR at Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge in Disneyland, Anaheim.

Cutting-edge VR headsets, motion-tracking that mirrors your every move, and haptic feedback let you experience heart-pounding visuals, seamless motion tracking, and lifelike touch feedback.

3. VR Gaming Console:

VR Gaming Console has stunning graphics, and interactive gameplay transports players into a virtual world with an unparalleled immersive level. The stunning visuals created and the precise motion control system through advanced tracking system makes it a unique experience for game enthusiasts.

Xbox & Playstation equipped with 200 games, Glo Mini Golf in Riverside provides a complete entertainment package of console gaming. 

4. VR Cinemas:

California's VR cinema theaters' cutting-edge VR headsets and lifelike audio transports you into another dimension of stunning 360-degree environments, while the immersive audio brings them to life in incredible detail.  

VR cinemas in California are taking movie immersion to the next level with advanced features like motion tracking and haptic feedback. 

This technology lets your physical movements influence the VR environment, allowing you to walk, climb, or fight alongside characters while adding touch sensations like wind or sword slashes.

5. VR Escape Rooms:

The experience allows us to dive into puzzles where objects respond effortlessly to your touch, guided by an intuitive design. GLO Mini Golf's alluring escape room is one of the best destinations if you search for "best escape rooms" or “virtual reality gaming near me.” It takes you on a thrilling adventure, providing a unique way to test your wits and teamwork in a virtual setting.

VR escape rooms have gained popularity soon among friends and families and for team-building activities while providing a thrilling approach to adventure.  

It is a distinctive fusion of traditional escape room experiences and video games, where players or groups enjoy thrilling and innovative forms of amusement. 

From chilling haunted mansions to sleek spaceships, the personalized virtual reality adventure experience lets you interact seamlessly with the surroundings. 

6. VR Fitness Studios:

VR fitness studios are transforming the conventional gym experience all across California. This appeals to a varied customer base that is enthusiastic about embracing the future of fitness. 

The focus of these studios' commitment to innovation and healthy lifestyles is reflected through their representation of technology and wellness fusion.

These studios provide a variety of VR fitness classes such as high-intensity interval training (HIIT), and yoga while making workouts enjoyable and effective through the immersive capability of virtual reality.

7. VR Technology Showcases:

In San Diego's core, museums dedicated to science and technology feature interactive VR exhibits, enabling visitors to delve into the educational and scientific possibilities of virtual reality. Meanwhile, Los Angeles, renowned for its entertainment technology, hosts VR film festivals that transport participants into captivating virtual realms. 

Experience the future of storytelling at The Hollywood VR Summit, where experts in virtual reality and entertainment come together.

The Virtual Reality Developers Conference at Anaheim is another place to gain insights from tech enthusiasts into the dynamic landscape of VR developments.

The annual event of the San Francisco Virtual Reality Expo is the opportunity to witness industry leaders unveiling the latest VR innovations in healthcare, such as surgeons performing VR-assisted operations. Explore mind-blowing hyper-reality in video games.

Participants have the opportunity to try out practical demonstrations, join informative discussions, and connect with others who have a shared enthusiasm for the virtual world.

‍

Conclusion:

California is a leader in virtual reality for cutting-edge experiences and endless possibilities. Virtual reality gaming, arcade games that make your adrenaline rush, epic adventures in theme parks, the experience of mind-bending immersive films, and escape rooms - the possibilities are endless here. The VR fitness studios are redefining the gym experience, the science and technology museums in San Diego feature interactive VR exhibits for educational purposes, and the state has a diverse range of applications. Experience the future of California now with incredible virtual experiences.

[conaldxgku]

Breaking Down the Features: Which Aviation Headset Wins, Lightspeed Zulu 3 or Bose A20?

Introduction

In the earth of aviation, using a trustworthy and large-top quality aviation headset is essential for pilots. It not only presents clear communication with air site visitors control but also helps in lessening noise fatigue in the course of prolonged flights. With various possibilities out there in the market, two headsets that jump out tend to be the Lightspeed Zulu three and Bose A20. But which a person really should you select? In this post, We'll break down the features of both of those headsets and Look at them to determine the winner.

Lightspeed Zulu three vs. Bose A20 - The last word Comparison Breaking Down the Options: Which Aviation Headset Wins, Lightspeed Zulu 3 or Bose A20?

When it arrives to selecting an aviation headset, pilots frequently uncover by themselves torn concerning the Lightspeed Zulu three and Bose A20. Both of those headsets provide Remarkable options and have a powerful adhering to during the aviation Neighborhood. Let's dive deep into their characteristics to pick which just one will come out on leading.

Comfort and Fit Comfort is vital: How can Lightspeed Zulu three and Bose A20 Evaluate?

Comfort performs a crucial purpose in pilot headsets as aviators spend very long hrs carrying them during flights. The Lightspeed Zulu 3 features plush ear seals that deliver a comfortable in good shape even throughout extended use. Its lightweight structure makes sure small strain on the head and neck, making it suited to extensive flights.

On one other hand, the Bose A20 also offers excellent convenience with its plush cushions and ergonomic design. The headset's light-weight design evenly distributes stress over the head, ensuring a snug suit for pilots of all measurements.

In phrases of convenience and match, the two headsets excel, giving pilots a cushty expertise in the course Bose A20 vs Lightspeed Zulu 3 classicfighters.org of their flights.

Finding Your Best Fit: Adjustability in Lightspeed Zulu three and Bose A20

An aviation headset really should cater to pilots of different head sizes and styles. The Lightspeed Zulu three options an adjustable headband and customizable ear seals, permitting pilots to obtain an ideal suit. This adjustability makes sure a secure and comfy expertise for all customers.

Similarly, the Bose A20 also offers a substantial standard of adjustability. Its headband may be simply altered to suit various head dimensions, even though its rotating microphone enables pilots to situation it In accordance with their Tastes.

Both headsets prioritize adjustability, making certain that pilots can discover their excellent healthy.

Noise Reduction Quieter Skies: How can the Noise Reduction Characteristics of Lightspeed Zulu 3 and Bose A20 Compare?

Noise reduction is The most critical things for just about any aviation headset. The Lightspeed Zulu three utilizes Lively noise reduction (ANR) engineering to cancel out external sounds, giving pilots with a transparent and uninterrupted audio practical experience. Its Superior ANR technologies cuts down cockpit noise by around 30 decibels, ensuring crystal apparent conversation.

The Bose A20 also incorporates ANR technology, supplying a powerful sound reduction functionality of as much as forty decibels. This degree of sound cancellation offers pilots which

[bestonetech]

Bose A30 Noise-Canceling Pilot Aviation Headset

The Bose A30 Noise-Canceling Pilot Aviation Headset is a high-end headset that is designed to provide pilots with the best possible combination of comfort, noise cancellation, and audio clarity. It features three modes of active noise cancellation, a Bluetooth audio interface, and a tap control for talk-through communication. Here are some of the key features of the Bose A30 headset: 3 modes of…