#passenger restrained by stewardess

[flymeandtiememaam2]

Wandering Hands

“Not too tight is it, Mr Groper? Li-mei asked asked the gweilo she and her colleague Hui-fen had tied up after he had been repeatedly warned by the female cabin crew to stop pinching their bottoms and feeling their nyloned legs as they walked up the aisle carrying out their duties. Gerry, his hands securely tied behind his back with a combination of duct tape and ladies’ tights, did not even look up at the sarcastically smiling stewardess watching over him, but continued to stare sullenly at his own feet, similarly bound, but with seat belt straps. “Can’t you witches take a little joshing?” he complained bitterly. “I’m afraid not, sir,” replied Li-mei, “zero tolerance of wandering hands also means zero female flight attendant sense of humour where groping is concerned!”

Sources: retrorope and the Daily Mail

[igiveupmiss3]

Incriminating Brake Light

“And so you see, Inspector,” Hikari Kato, the slightly irritating but undoubtedly brilliant Japanese Airlines stewardess and amateur sleuth, told me excitedly as she crouched next to the rear of the car, “this brake light has been replaced. Recently!” I sighed and put my hands on my hips, glancing briefly at Hikari’s prisoner who stood, hands cuffed behind his back, head bowed in shame and certainly looking guilty, up against the front passenger door. “It doesn’t prove Mr Jameson here is our murderer, Ms Kato,” I replied. “On the contrary,” the young woman beamed from behind her mask as she stood up, “I think you will find CCTV will reveal the car I spotted driving from the scene at the time of the killing did indeed swerve into a parked vehicle, shattering its brake light.” I looked at the black uniformed female a little sceptically, but had to admit she had a point. “Besides,” continued Hikari with a light laugh, “when I approached this gentleman to discuss the inconsistencies in his story, he ran away!” I smiled too. “But he didn’t get far?” The woman bowed slightly. “I was forced to restrain him, Inspector.” she agreed. I indicated to my men to arrest Jameson then turned again to the part time detective. “Haven’t you a JAL flight to catch, Ms Kato?” I asked the stewardess hopefully.

Sources: Alamy Stock Photos and Pinterest

[submission4]

Asahi Hashimoto, ANA Stewardess Sleuth, Part 7

“All that remains,” said Ms Nishimura to her crew, after she had escorted Fukada to join his two musicians and placed his reluctant hands on his head and made him face the wall, “is to restrain these three gentlemen and place them somewhere out of harm’s way for the rest of the flight.” Yoko and Asahi beamed at their boss, delighted at the outcome of Asahi’s determined sleuthing. Meanwhile, Yoko hurried up, her arms full of lengths of ANA restraint rope normally reserved for the rare occasions the stewardesses had to subdue panicky or unruly passengers. “Ah, Yoko,” laughed Ms Nishimura, “you anticipated me!”

“Now, gentlemen,” the confident crew manager told her three prisoners as they continued to face the cabin wall, “if you would be so good as to remove your hands from your heads and place them behind your backs, so that the young ladies can tie you up?” The musicians were fuming, Asahi could tell, but they knew the jig was up and complied with Ms Nishimura’s instruction. The senior stewardess then handed a length of rope to Asahi with one hand while placing the other on Fukada’s shoulder. “Would you do the honours for Mr Fukada please, Miss Hashimoto?” she asked the junior stewardess politely. Asahi’s heart leapt, but she knew this was approval of all her previous unprofessional behaviour. She was forgiven. “Absolutely, Madamu!” the young woman replied, receiving the ropes and blushing despite herself.

And so, Kensi Fukada, internationally famous composer and musician, was bound - his wrists tightly tied behind his back and his arms secured by restraint ropes shibari style - by a young ANA stewardess sleuth who had refused to be intimidated by male wealth, fame or arrogance in order to uncover his criminality. The humbled Fukada endured being tied by the woman with as much dignity as the situation allowed. Ms Nishimura looked on with satisfaction. “Now while Asahi escorts our esteemed guest to the rear of the plane, shall we take care of his supporting cast, girls?” she said to Yoko and Suki, indicating the other two musicians, who stood waiting, tight lipped, their hands still held behind their backs.

[hooniee]

 — ꒰‧⁺paris run away  *ೃ༄

↷ heeseung x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷genre: fluff | comdey ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: not proofread | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ synopsis: (y/n) just graduates from high school and feel incomplete but doesn’t know what’s missing. a trip to paris might be able to fix that ⋯ ♡ᵎ 

↷ author note: this is @enhypenwriters​ event of the month! strangers to lovers <3 i think this was my favorite to write out of the three pieces but i feel like it’s lacking some flare :( i think it still turned out okay though. i hope you enjoy <3 ⋯ ♡ᵎ

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

you should have listened to sunoo when he said that it wasn't a good plan to travel to a foreign country on impulse.

you wouldn’t say you’ve ever been the most courageous person in your life. determined to break that trend, you planned this super out of the blue trip without much thought.

yeah. maybe this was a bit TOO courageous.

you didn't comprehend what compelled you yet here you were, arriving at paris charles de gaulle airport.

you stared at the large windows of the airport, viewing the plane that you had just left.

the gate for the concluding passengers had been locked by the flight stewardesses.

one of the stewardesses obtained eye contact with you, before shooting a smile and lightly bowing her head.

you absentmindedly returned the gesture, mind elsewhere.

bustling throughout the airport were people hurrying to their connecting flight or slumping into their lover's arms

people carried two or more suitcases with various bags strapped on their bodies, nothing on you besides a petite sling purse and one small carry on suitcase.

as weaved your way through the mass of stressed travelers, you briefly thought to yourself

how the hell did you get here?

2 days earlier

clusters of kids outfitted in blue gowns and caps could be recognized a mile away.

the graduation from high school to university.

your friend minji encloses her arm around your shoulder, your arm resting on her waist.

minji’s mom was stood in front of the both of you, gesturing wildly as she tried to take the ‘perfect graduation photo’ as she had put it

"okay pose! get a little closer, perfect. 1, 2, 3"  your friend's mom counts.

the camera shudders which creates a beaming light to flash, eyes faintly twitching.

shrieks could be heard throughout the campus as girls queued up to take their final photographs with the popular guys.

minji's mom draws back the camera and we check the picture.

"it's cute," minji exclaims, peering at it a bit more closer. you nod your head in approval.

you would miss minji, one of the friends you could constantly count on in math class when you neglected to do your homework from binging korean dramas.

"i'll send you the picture later (y/n)! don't forget about me alright? you have my socials and you can always talk to me," minji grasps your hands

you smile, feeling sad at the departure of your best friend, "of course minji, don't forget me either"

"i could never," she brings you into a secure hug.

"sweet pea perfume," you say and she chuckles. sweat pea was minji's preferred perfume and you would miss that aroma.

"i have to go now, but i'll see you around okay?" minji says.

you could notice tears well up in her eyes and she fans her eyes to prevent the tears.

"don't cry ji, i'll start crying," you joked. "i live near here and you can always visit me! my door will always be open."

she smiled, "the same goes for you." her mother shouts her name before she has to go.

"alright, see you around," you wave to her as she leaves.

on the opposite side of the garden, your mom signals to you with your bouquet of red roses in hand.

"are you ready honey?" she asks you and you smile, nodding your head.

the car ride was in pleasant quietness, light radio music fluttering in. you had taken off your cap and laid it in the car seat next to you accompanying with your bouquet. 

you had glimpsed outside to see your campus still arranged with your classmates, beaming and posing for additional pictures.

you bitterly smiled. 

for the first time, graduation didn't appear like one of those liberating scenes of a movie,

1 day ago

you sprawled on his bed, staring straight up. a fan in your hand, fanning the perspiration that threatened to come.

your eyes match the fan's speed directly above your neighbor and best friend, sunoo's, bed.

his air conditioner was broken. with the avail of those elementary paper fans and the only fan stationed in the house, you were able to find comfort

you questioned if he ever got frightened of it dropping on him when he slept.

sunoo occupies the bathroom that's joined to his room, applying some light powder.

your mind strays, more thoughts simmering in the back of your brain. you sigh for the 10th time and sunoo being exasperated, allows out a loud groan. 

it draws you out of your daze and you snap your head towards him."

"what is with you? what is on your mind sunshine?" he shuts his cushion, flinging himself on the bed.

"are you ever scared of the fan falling on you?" you felt the bed dip

"no, it's been like that for years, and don't change the subject. what's wrong?" sunoo retorted 

"what makes you say that? i'm fine, " you answer

"uh-huh," sunoo rolls his eyes

it's the blatant eye-roll rather than the hushed one, he implied business

"you've been sighing for the past ten minutes, spill," sunoo says

of course, sunoo could recognize your distress. what sort of best friend would he be if he couldn't distinguish your emotions?

you huff, " okay then"

"i don't know why but i just feel stuck? i just graduated high school and nothing feels different, i mean it doesn't have to, but what do i do now? maybe i just watched too many movies"

sunoo tsked, " (y/n). sweetie, i graduated last year and i'm still stuck here. i do nothing besides go out or stay in my room. no in-between."

"but you have something sunoo. you have a bunch of your friends, you're an instagram star and i don't know, it's just different, "

it was accurate, sunoo was extremely popular. he had a bunch of friends and acquaintances from being the vice president. 

sunoo inflated up on social media for his content from makeup to dance practices, a versatile instagram star.

you conceal your face with your hands before emitting a loud groan.

sunoo remarks, "i don't know how i can help you (y/n)? maybe you should try to rest a bit"

"easy for you to say, you, who isn’t dealing with a mid-life crisis, " you whine.

"this isn't a mid-life crisis, this is a post-graduation crisis which is totally normal. how about going out of town? obviously not to paris or whatever but maybe, what was her name again? minjoo's town!" sunoo suggested.

"obviously not to paris"

"not to paris"

"to paris"

"paris"

what about paris? paris was considerably away from your town and had a ring on the tip of your tongue. 

you had sprung up, grasping sunoo by the shoulder and shaking him, "you're a genius sunoo! paris is a genius idea."

sunoo's eyes widen and he shakes his head while attempting to pry your hands off of him.

"no, you have to think rationally-"

you released sunoo from your hold which let him stabilize his spinning head.

"and i am! i need something new. being in this town for my whole life makes me realize, maybe i just need a spontaneous trip. "

your words scarcely blur together, adrenaline rushing through your blood as you understood this could jolt you out of your post-graduation slump.

"but-"

"no buts! pass me my laptop,"

present-day

you are currently disliking your choice, anxiety rushing through your veins, but it's too overdue to have other opinions.

you had landed in france and this was a life-altering moment; a chance of a lifetime.

peering nearby, you squint at the tiny english translations of the signs. you pull out your phone.

you open up the camera to see if zooming in would improve it for your eyes. as if on cue, your stomach rumbles vaguely making you startled.

you panicked as the pocket that was previously supplied with snacks became loaded with empty wrappers.

maybe if you would be lost in this wonderful city, you might as well try some of their famous pastries.

your muscles had retracted, the result of finally getting some movement after being restrained in a metal machine that was adjacent to the fiery sun.

you stumbled across this petite bakery and enter, sparingly bowing your head. 

the owner was an older lady with her greying hair that designed it to resemble ashy highlights, pulled into a loose bun.

"que puis-je vous offrir?" she smiles.

"i'm sorry, i don't speak french?" you admit, embarrassed

as much as you assumed duolingo and rosetta stone could benefit you on a flight to paris, the only thing you could accomplish to say without messing up is "bonjour"

"that's fine mademoiselle! what can i offer you?" the lady shifts to englsih

you let out a sigh of relief, appreciative for blundering into this bakery.

"may i have your most popular pastry to go and a water bottle?" you smile, fishing out some euros.

you had looked down to the currency that you had exchanged before embarking on the plane.

"of course mademoiselle!" she says, reaching behind the counter and with her gloved hand, seizing a chocolate croissant.

"that will be 4.12 euros!" she rings you up in the cashier.

"is this the right amount? i'm not very good at counting euros," you revealed your hand where the money was.

she nodded her head and took the money, printing your receipt out. before giving you your receipt, she interviews you with a question that you weren't confident in answering"

"if you don't mind me asking, why are you here in france? not to sound rude! but i'm just curious"

you softly smile, sensing the kindness illuminating from her tone of voice. she wasn't rude at all and she was asking a simple question, but your brain struggled to obtain an answer.

"well, i would say i'm here to explore?  i just finished high school and life felt incomplete. my best friend jokingly said "go to paris" and so I booked a ticket."

you look back up at her to see her delicate gaze. the rustling of the paper bag stopped the moment of silence

"that's amazing mademoiselle! france is the city for that. you must visit the notre-dam cathedral while you're here, it's beautiful. and maybe even find some love?"

she winks at you and you engage with a small giggle.

just like the show "emily in paris," you could merely fantasize about living a life like hers but it was an altered universe. she was an employed woman and you; a fresh graduate from high school.

"maybe! but i'm not looking forward to dating right now"

it wasn't a lie nor the truth. you would love to date someone right now but dating someone from a foreign country with a language barrier? not the most desirable idea. the owner laughs, handing you your pastry and water bottle.

"thank you for dropping by here mademoiselle! please enjoy your time in france,"

"merci beaucoup" you stumbled out, providing a small wave out.

the airport seemed to be more crowded than before. slowly opening the wrapping, you take a bite of the chocolate croissant and let out an audible gasp.

unquestionably, one of the greatest pastries you have tried in your life.

you promptly pull out your phone, snapping a picture for your instagram story. it was an adorable picture with the bakery in the background with the chocolate croissant in hand.

with "just landed" as your caption, you posted it to your close friends story. almost a second later, sunoo request to video call you.

you were welcomed by a piercing shriek into the phone.

"YAH I WAS JUST GREETED BY YOUR PARENTS WHO SAID YOU WERE AT A SLEEPOVER FOR A COUPLE DAYS? SLEEPOVER MY FOOT? YOU'RE IN PARIS-" 

sunoo screeches over the phone and you timidly grimace, turning down the volume as people begin to stare.

"sunoo, i'm currently in a public airport with no earbuds plugged in, can you please STOP screaming?" you whispered audibly to him.

"OH, I FORG- sorry," sunoo sheepishly responds.

"my parents would never let me go this far so i just had to lie that i was going to a sleepover at minji's house which is out of town. plus i'm only going to be here for two days," you consult him.

"you saw me buy the tickets sunoo. why are you scolding me now? shouldn't you have tried to stop me while i was in the middle of buying the tickets?" you added.

"well now i want you to come back, who am i supposed to hang out with for the next 2 days?" 

though it was dark in the setting sunoo was in, you could practically see his pouting face.

"you could hang out with jake? or sunghoon? aren't they both your friends?"

jake and sunghoon went to the same school as sunoo and you're buddies with them. you've known each other since middle school but jake and sunghoon were always closer to each other just like you and sunoo.

"jake and sunghoon hyung are busy on a vacation together in the bahamas"

you stifled a laugh in, "good luck being alone for the next two days."

"not funny (y/n)! besides that point, what if you get caught?"

"don't worry, i won't get caught because you're the only one who knows about this .as long as you don't rat me out sunoo," you scowl at him.

"i won't, i won't, i promise but you have to buy me something? deal?”

you roll your eyes, "deal mr. sunoo-shi, i have to go now. i need to try to find my hotel"

"be safe, love you!"

"i will! love you too"

you sulk after the call ends. without your best friend on your side, you felt a little feeble and lost but it's not time to be pondering like that. 

paris awaits and you couldn't linger at the airport the whole day.

first challenge 

getting to your hotel was a struggling. wandering around a city with no basis of the language besides "hello" and "thank you so much", didn't do enough for you.

first, you had to find a taxi that could converse in english. most people had turned you down as you couldn't speak french.

thankfully, it was a fortunate day and you met this kind lady who had coffee-colored curly locks, gentle chocolate eyes, and light freckles scattered around her face.

"do you speak english?" you crisscrossed your fingers, your legs close to giving out after scrambling for taxi drivers

"yeah, i do mademoiselle! would you like to hop in?" she extended a friendly smile and you had never felt bricks lift off your chest faster.

she opened the back of the taxi and you scouted in, permitting your purse to lay on your lap.

the women examined both directions of the road, looking out for passing cars and entered the driver's seat.

"where are you heading mademoiselle?"

you swiftly pull out your phone to your notes, "hotel le walt paris?"

you corked your eyebrow, making sure it was the right name before she nodded her head. 

"a very famous hotel huh? right near the eiffel tower. i recommend that you wait till it gets dark and sit on the balcony to see the eiffel tower with lights. it's beautiful"

you smiled at the kind words of the lady, "i will surely try that! thank you miss..?"

"elena! elena is fine and you mademoiselle?"

"i'm (y/n)"

"it's nice to meet you"

"likewise"

the entire ride, you felt at some peace finally conversing with someone who understood english,

 after a 30 minute drive, you had arrived at your destination.

feeling a sad departure from this mellow woman, who turned out to be 19 seeking to make some pocket money in the summer, she was one of the first people that you had grown connected with throughout this ride.

"elena, though it was a short time, thank you for keeping company"

you present her with a warm smile as she unlocks the door for you. you exit the taxi, clasping at your phone.

"here, give me your phone."

you softly planted it in elena's hand. you were perplexed about why she showed you your home screen until you realized you had a password.

you enter your password, giving it back to her. she did a bit of clicking and you could see her hands typing something in before returning the phone back to you.

"that's my instagram, stay in contact with me alright?"

you felt the sides of your lips curve into a slight smile. you dragged her into a soft hug.

"thank you elena"

she visibly hesitant before easing into the hug. she softly rubbed your back.

"i have to go, i might get fired if i stay here too long"

you bided her a fare-well. thirty minutes was an extended time to get a know a person.

and that was the first friend you met in france.

second challenge

checking into your hotel wasn't as difficult. most people could speak english and besides the uncanny looks that you received from the clerk, check-in was pretty smooth.

"here you are mademoiselle" the bellman lowers your suitcase in front of your hotel door.

"merci beaucoup,"  you smile and he returns the gesture before leaving you.

you look down in your hand where you are grasping the card tightly. you scan the card against the door meter and it flickers twice. 

red, green

the door clicks before you push on it and reveal your hotel room.

at first glance, your mouth dropped.

the hotel room seemed better than it did on the online photographs which was a rare possibility.

though it was a small room, it was renovated beautifully.

overhead the king-sized bed, there was an extensive painting of the eiffel tower. a blue chair that held a place directly by the bed along with a little wooden table.

the hotel was fine but you definitely weren't

"(y/n) shut down in,"

"3"

"2"

"1"

before thinking, you throw yourself on the bed having the jet-lag kicking in. the bag offers a 'thump' sound as it connects with the ground.

'ouch that hurt'

you fish through your pocket, pulling out your phone. it was hardly twelve pm and you were already fatigued.

what was your strategy? you were in france for two days and you don't have a plan to do anything.

first things first, you needed to sort out this jet-lag.

 1) taking a shower

showers are always a great way to awaken and could shake you from this daze. you endured a scream as your water turned to be ice cold. someone must be utilizing the hot water. that shower unmistakably woke you up

2) skincare

after getting out of the shower, skincare was the secondary way to wake up. cleansing with toner, dropping essence into the skin, and implementing a nice coat of moisturizer to lock-in.

3) fueling with food

food can beat anybody out of slumber if they're fueled with enthusiasm but you didn't have any food on you? that indicates it's time to go out and explore france.

unfastening up your suitcase, you drabble on what you can wear.

reconciling with a simple pair of denim shorts and a light pink tank top, you catch a fast mirror selfie.

being content with the ultimate product, you smile to yourself.

"phone, key, wallet," you whispered, securing the thoughts of having everything. 

everything was arranged to go and it was time to tour paris.

third challenge 

cruising through paris would be by notably the toughest challenge while you were here.

you had your phone to navigate solely with wifi and you couldn't be that favorable to be able to meet people who could speak english all the time. 

you had entered a small restaurant, where you worked to communicate with people in defective french but they moderately understood what you wanted.

after that fiasco trying to order a chicken frricassee, you were able to appreciate your time there along with sending a picture to sunoo who reacted with,

"can that be the souvenir you bring back to me TT?"

you chuckled at the message, knowing typical sunoo, and finished up eating.

eating wasn't the one exclusive thing available in france. there were various activities but you were too afraid to venture any future for the hotel. getting lost too was easy.

that being said, eating after eating all you could do was roam around the city. it was around 2pm and you could spot a diverse crowd of people.

you could see kids. in uniforms that just got out of school or a cute couple that was experiencing their date.

you slightly squint and cover your eyes as the sun is at its highest point.

yes, paris was lovely and you would prefer to travel more but but you didn’ toriginally have a plan

for a couple of hours, you completed wandering around the area where your hotel is. you wished at moments like this that you would have jungwon, sunoo's friend, with you to help navigate you.

 jungwon was also a friend you guys met in middle school but he went to your school. very mature for his age and great at preparation.

before you knew it, the sun had died down and it was time to retreat to the hotel.

'ah right! elena told me to look out at the eiffel tower as it gets darker'

you softly tread back to your hotel, observing the blisters at the back of your foot.

you could clearly sense the entire day of walking take a toll on your body.

you scan your key card and fling your bag to the floor as soon as you get inside. you open up your suitcase to change into suitable sleeping clothes.

you briskly cleansed your face and tied your hair back.

you had approached the balcony, guessing how to cautiously open the glass door.

you gradually shift the handle to the right and the door made a scanty creek. you gingerly put more stress on it, opening the balcony wide.

a distinct gasp could be heard from you.

subsequently taking a step onto your balcony, the frail breeze made you quiver in the long black tee that adorned your top half and the sweatpants that settled on your waist.

the balcony was small, barely able to move besides staying still.

you had peered to your right, glancing at the eiffel tower.

elena was correct. the eiffel tower was breath-taking at night. for the first time when landing in france, you could feel in harmony. below you was a crowded street.

it was only 8 pm yet you could feel your eyes droop as opposed to the bouncy pair of kids that ran through the moobs of people.

the radiant yellowish glow of the eiffel tower was able to save you from dozing off. you softly hum 'fly me to the moon,'

'fly me to the moon,' didn't have significance, it felt appropriate in the second.

you hadn't regarded it but a figure had gently peeked out of the other balcony, attentively listening to the silky melody that you were humming.

"nice song"

a voice interrupts and your humming had come to a halt, eyes widened.

you had turned to the origin of the voice and discovered the culprit

the balcony alongside you.

"thank you"

you glanced over, granting him a slight smile before he returns it.

"new to paris?"

he questioned, now you guys facing each other.

"yeah, just arrived this morning, and you?"

you asked before he softly smiles.

"not really, i've been here multiple times but the feeling is something i'll get used too."

you hum as a response

"how did you know to speak english to me? do i really act like a foriegner?"

you were growing more drowsy but this stranger was fascinating. who else could say they met someone and talked to them from a balcony romance?

"english song, random guess"

you nodded your head, not certain if he could see you but that was all you could muster up.

there grows stillness beside the bustling street below until the stranger breaks it.

"i know this sounds weird but since you're new here, would you like to go out with me tomorrow to travel the city?"

that question felt like ice water was just splashed onto your face. the proposal startled you. 

the stranger didn't appear like a bad person. been to paris varied times, can acknowledge good music and good at conversation.

as much as this stranger flatter you, how could you trust him?

"as much as i would love to, how do i know that you're not trying to kidnap me, even worse, kill me?"

he stifles a laugh.

"hey knock it off, this is a very serious question, balcony boy"

you snicker, desiring to know the answer than anticipated.

"i promise you that i won't try to kidnap OR kill you. i'm just offering and you can even pat me down before we go out together."

this was by far one of the most peculiar offers you had received but this was THE stranger offer you came to france seeking.

you know sunoo would not advocate for numerous reasons and you can hear his voice already 

"number one, dangerous"

"number two, dangerous!"

"number three, DANGEROUS!"

but sunoo isn't here right now. you chose to grab the opportunity. france had provided you luck today.

"alright then"

a moment of silence goes by before you hear him clearing his throat.

"you're serious right?"

he glances at you and your eyes lock. though you can't see that well due to the absence of light, you nod.

the eiffel tower gave you enough light that you could make our curious eyes, tall nose, fair skin that radiated in the soft lighting, and full lips that were curved into a smile

"i'll see you at the lobby at eight,"

next morning

to say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. you agreed to a stranger who claimed to know paris like the back of his palm. you met him off your balcony and now you were agreeing to go a date with him? 

"you must be out of your mind!" sunoo exclaimed through the phone.

"well yes i must have been at 8 pm last night when fatigue was hitting the hardest but how can i say no now?"

"i don't know maybe, I DON'T KNOW YOU STRANGER DANGER?" sunoo shouts

and like you foretold last night, sunoo was not a big supporter of this idea. over the course of fifteen minutes, you had been continuously scolded by him.

you cringe, " sunoo, i promise that i'll be fine. i just need you to help me pick out an outfit"

sunoo rolls his eyes, "what are your options?"

though sunoo wasn't supportive of this, he couldn't let you go on a date without style.

you held up two choices; a blue floral dress that settled to your mid-thigh and a pink tennis skirt with a white cami shirt.

"well do we like this guy or do we like LIKE this guy?" sunoo questioned.

"what- well i literally met him last night? so i don't even like him, we're just going out for this one day since he offered"

"uh-huh, then the blue floral dress, it's hot there right?" sunoo says

"super hot," you groan.

you glance at the time, 7:00 am.

"i have to start getting ready sunoo, i'll update you later alright?" you smile

"alright, try not to get killed but have fun too! love you"

"love you too," you say back before hanging up.

you quickly hop in the shower and make sure to not take too long.

doing skincare, putting on the outfit, and spraying a little bit of perfume, you are ready to head out the door.

one last check to make sure you have all the things.

7:58 am

you quickly head down to see several people in the lobby.

a bellman, a pair of teenage girls who seemed like they were dragged here, a couple around the mid-40s trying to check-in, and a teenage boy that rested on one of the lobby seats.

it was evident who the balcony boy was but you just called out to be safe.

"balcony boy," you say.

the teenage boy that was seated turns around before flashing you a smile. 

"miss singer,"

you airly chuckle at the nickname.

observing him in person was a lot different. you could see his long body proportion, bright eyes, sharp jawline, with fair skin that complimented his rich brown hair.

a distinct experience from seeing him on the balcony.

"i'm (y/n)! and you?" you ask

"i'm lee heeseung"

[rcress232-blog]

Wexford’s flight 2

Once the plane finished boarding the passengers, Wexford’s captor squeezed the arm she held. “Let’s go, Mr. Wexford.”

She walked him to the plane and up the stairs, where a young blond woman was waiting near the door.

“Mr. Wexford,” she greeted. “I am Katie Woodruff, the first officer. Welcome aboard and come with me.”

Katie took hold of his left arm, and the stewardess who captured him still held his right arm. Wexford couldn’t believe the humiliation as the women walked him down the aisle, past gawking, disbelieving passengers, to the back of the plane. 

The women put the male in a small seat, and Katie harnessed him as the stewardess tied his feet tightly with a strap restraint. His hands were still bound with the scarf, but there was no escape for the male.

“After a few hours I might let you stretch out,” Katie said. “But that will be up to the captain. For now, Katarina here will be your guard. She will be as nice to you as your behavior allows.”

Wexford felt so embarrassed. “As nice to you as your behavior allows” put all the power into the hands of the females who held him prisoner. They could gag him, bind him more tightly, or punish him in any way they deemed necessary. He could do nothing about it.

Katie left. Katarina took a seat and belted in, and moments later, Wexford felt the plane moving. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” Katarina told him. “This doesn’t have to be unpleasant.”

But it was. Wexford couldn’t believe he wasn’t dying of shame, wanting nothing more than to burst into flames with his embarrassment and disappear after his humiliating arrest and capture, and now a lengthy flight restrained and helpless.

After an hour of dazed silence, Wexford saw another woman enter his field of vision. Based on her epaulettes, the male could tell this was the captain as she crouched down and looked at him.

“Mr. Wexford,” she greeted. “I am Michelle Stern, the captain of this plane. I am going to help Katarina untie you and let you stretch a minute, then we’re going to re-secure you. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“I know it’s embarrassing,” she added. “Just don’t make things worse by trying to resist. We’re all women, but we’re capable of handling you if you make trouble. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Captain,” Wexford answered.

The women carefully released him. Wexford stood, stretching out for a moment, not daring to walk in either direction. Finally, the captain pulled a pair of handcuffs from her belt.

“Hands behind your back,” she ordered.

“Listen,” Wexford said. “Couldn’t you cuff me in front? It’s a long flight and I’m not going to do something stupid.”

Michelle’s eyes flashed. “Now, we’ve been very nice to you. Don’t make it necessary to change that.”

Wexford sighed and turned around. Michelle handcuffed him, tightly fastening his hands behind his back. He went into another daze of disbelief as she double locked the handcuffs and placed him back in his seat. 

“Have a pleasant flight,” Michelle told him, walking away. Katarina secured him to his seat, harnessing him and tying his feet together. He was once again helpless and under control.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 19

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud

Nik has managed to arrange a private flight; a jet owned by a high-profile business big wig she's provided previous -and successful- services for. He has all the toys and all the connections: his own gulf stream, no checking of passports and baggage through either the small municipal airport in Telluride or the much larger one in Belfast,  a flight manifesto with all fictitious names, and absolutely no contact with the general public.  Normally Yaz would fly them in and out of extractions, but with many unknowns and the need for him to run point on the tech side of things in Ireland, a private flight had been the best and safest choice.

 Tyler had taken the seat at the very back of the jet; preferring to space himself out from the other two passengers and the small flight crew.  He'd needed a chance to clear his head; a stampede of thoughts surging through his already weary brain.  Unable to get Millie's meltdown out of his mind, the way she'd become a child possessed and he'd had to physically restrain her. Heart still aching over the words she'd said: “I hate you”, “Don't come back. EVER.” Stunned by the vehemence and hostility that had just spewed from such a tiny, innocent body. The look of the utmost betrayal written all over her face.

 And his wife. That heartbroken, lost, and haunted look in her eyes when she'd kissed him goodbye. The way she'd clung to him when the made love for the last time; her hands slowly moving over his body, as if committing every inch of him to memory. Of their desire to have another baby: the first and last. And how he hopes and prays that the news doesn't come while he's away.

 His eyes are closed, arms folded over his chest, legs stretched out under the seat in front of him when he feels someone slip into the seat beside him. And he cracks open one eye just as McCann, a glass of whiskey in his hand, plops down next to him.  Part of him wants to tell the guy to fuck off; after all, he's the main reason behind Millie's meltdown and harsh words and Esme's heartbreak. But his more logical and humane side reminds him that this is a man who genuinely needs someone to prop him up Who is going through quite possibly the worst shit a husband and a father could ever deal with.

 “It's always hard saying goodbye,” McCann says, as he sips his drink.

 Tyler nods. “My wife takes it pretty bad. She's been struggling with some things. Since Dhaka.”

 “PTSD?”

 “Undiagnosed. But yeah, I think so.”

 He'd been so caught up dealing with his own issues and getting Ovi the help he needed, that her struggles had bee pushed to the back burner. And they've spent so much time, effort, and energy during their five years of marriage having a babies and raising them, that he's never really pressed the issue of her getting some kind of help. But he sees it. Every day. The way she struggles with her up and down moods; hyper and manic one moment, horrifically down and depressed the next. Her battle with self confidence since having Declan and being unable to lose the last ten pounds she is always obsessing about. The sleep issues.  The days when she can't even get out of bed because the weight of the world is just wearing her down.

 “How about your kids?” McCann asked. “How do they handle it?”

 “The baby's too young to understand anything. The twins handled it pretty well.  They're just disappointed that we didn't get to do all the things I promised we would when I got back last week. My daughter...” he sighs, leaning his head back against the seat.  “...she didn't take it too well.”  He leaves it at that. It's too painful to relive, and the man sitting beside him doesn't need to know every detail of what goes on behind closed doors.

 “She's a daddy's girl?”

 Tyler nods. “Well, she was. I'm not so sure about now.”

 “Kids are resilient,” the other man reasons. “By tomorrow she'll have bounced back and all will be forgiven.”

 “I hope so. She's a stubborn little thing. Like her mother. She doesn't forgive and forget easily. If at all. I've been on my wife's shit list a few times and the past and it felt like I was never getting off of it.  She's amazing though,” he smiles. “She's put up with a lot. Keeps putting up with a lot. I haven't always been the best husband for her. I'm not an easy person to live with. Yet she keeps hanging in there and giving me chance after chance.”

While infidelity has never been an issue, his own struggles with mental health problems  and substance abuse has caused a lot of angst within the last few years, as has  his often volatile temper and his need for control and issues with seeing her as a possession instead of an actual person. But they've battled through it; a lot of fights, counselling, even a trial separation when the twins were only two.

  They latter they'd kept a secret from everyone they knew.   Friends and family alike.  It had been the wake up call that he'd needed; living in a shitty hotel, relegated to seeing his kids once every two weeks, wanting so badly to beg and plead with her to just take him back yet his pride never actually allowing him to do it. For six months they'd lived like that. Barely speaking except for him he'd stop by to grab the kids or when he took them home. Never actually setting foot in the house, instead having to carry on awkward and tension filled conversations with her on the front porch. Until one night she'd called him and said she missed him.  That she wanted him to come home.

 After that he'd made it his mission to make up for all the bullshit he'd put her through.

 “You're lucky,” McCann says. “That you found someone like that. Not many in the game manage to, you know. It's hard finding someone that gets it. That understands why we do what we do.  It's a hard life. Not just for us, but for them too. Having to put up with us gone all the time, taking care of a house and a family all on their own. It's why so many people in this job never get married. Or if they do, it never lasts long.”

 Tyler thinks about G. Finally meeting the love of his life and settling down, only to never get the chance to grow old and gray with his bride.  

 “Drink?” McCann offers. “I can wave the stewardess over.”

 “I'm fine, mate. Thanks. I'm trying to stay clean for a couple of weeks. I've been going a little overboard lately and I need to slow down. For my family.”

 “Battles with the bottle?”

 Tyler hesitates on using the word 'alcoholic'. He's never felt that things have been that out of control. At least not within the past five years.

 “I struggle from time to time,” he admits. “It's my weakness.  I try not to let it beat me.”

 “Must be hard. Seeing what you see. Doing the things you do.”

 “It has it's moments,” he agrees.

 “You know,” McCann downs the remains of his drink, the motions to the stewardess that he'd like another. “You didn't have to stay in a hotel. I've got enough room at my place. Why waste the money?”

 “I'm not actually paying for anything. Nik takes care of all that. I appreciate the offer, but I work better on my own. When I have my own space and my own little bubble. I focus a lot better.  Besides, the last time I stayed under the same roof as someone while doing a job, I ended up marrying them. And no offence, but you're just not my type.”

 McCann laughs at that. “None taken. I can definitely understand why you'd prefer to stay under the same roof with her.   I hear Nik has a little project she's working on. Starting up the business in North America.”

 Tyler nods.

 “She said she asked you to run it. You given it much thought?”

 “If I had to give my answer now, it would be yes. But ask me in two weeks. It all depends on how things go while we're in Ireland. Things go nice and smooth, then I go for it. Things go to shit, then I just go home and keep doing what I'm doing now. I've already told Nik this is my last year. That I'd give her twelve months and than I was walking away. My family needs me. They deserve to have me home. And we're trying to have another baby, so...”

 “Another one? Five all together? You're mighty brave. Both of you. Why not go for two? Make it an even half dozen?”

 “I don't think my wife would go for that. Unless this one ends up being twins too.  If I do take the offer from Nik, I'd be home more. Not so much time out in the field. And let's face it, I'm not getting any younger. My mind may say yes, but my body is very much telling me no.  I don't know how much more I can put it through before it just gives out entirely.”

 “I keep telling myself...and my wife...that I'm going to give it up,” the other man muses. “I've been saying it every year for the last six. But something always comes up and I just keep hanging in there. My wife's a lot like yours. Stubborn as all hell. Fiery temper. Likes to hold a grudge from time to time. But she keeps me around. Lord knows why. I've put her through a lot. Because of the job,”

 “I guess we're both lucky then,” Tyler reasons. “We both managed to find that balance. Between the job and a real life. It's not easy. Far from it. But it's worth it. Every time she smiles at me. Every time my kids hug me or tell me they love me. It makes all the bullshit worth it.”

 McMann nods in agreement, slowly sipping his drink. Contemplative now. Eyes dark. Lips set in a thin, firm line.

 “We'll find them, mate,” Tyler assures him. “We'll find them, and we'll bring them home.”

 “I've been thinking about what you said the other day. When you talked about why you didn't want to be the one to get the kids. About not wanting to have to choose between the two of them. If you knew you could only get one or the other.”

 “I never should have said that. I was way out of line. I never...”

 “You made a very valid point. As much as it hurt to hear you say it. What if you couldn't get both out at once? What if you knew there'd be no chance of going back to get the other? How would you decide? If you had to pick between your two sons. Your twins. Which one would you pick?”

 “I wouldn't,” Tyler's answer comes easily. With absolutely no hesitation. There isn't a scenario that he hasn't run through his mind at least once or twice.  A solution that he hasn't come up with. “If it came down to that, I’d make a deal. My life for both of theirs. If something like that were to happen, it would mean that whoever it is, is after me. They don't want my kids. Not really. They just know that taking my kids will bring me to them.   I'd give them what they want. Me. As long as it means they let go of my kids.”

 “And if they won't? Let them go?”

 “Then they better make sure the first bullet is the one that kills me. Because I won't go down easily. I'll do whatever it takes to save my kids. Or my wife. So they better make sure they put me down permanently the first time because I'm going to just keep getting back up.”

 McMann nods slowly, considering the words as he swirls the ice within his glass.

 “If you're not willing to do that, what the hell are we even doing here, mate? If you're not willing to sacrifice yourself for your kids, so they can live and get home to their mother, why are you even bothering with all of this? You know it's you that they want.  They're just using your family to get to you. If it comes down to it, are you willing to give yourself up so your kids will get back to their mom?”

 “They have to have a mom to get back to you. That's your job.”

 “And I'll do my job. I'll find your wife. I'll get her out of there.  But I'm not worried about my end of things. I've got my shit under control.  But if you're not willing to give up your life for your kids, this is all for nothing.  You don't offer yourself up, they'll kill all of you. You pick one kid over the other and you'll kill yourself in the end. Because you'd never be able to look at yourself in the mirror again.  You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. So you better be ready for that, mate. To make that choice. Yourself or them. Because it's a damn good possibility that that's going to happen.”

 McCann finishes his drink in one large gulp. Coughing as the whisky burns his throat. “And what if you've got a choice to make? When you find my wife? If they want your life for hers? What decision are you making?”

 “It's simple,” Tyler says.  “I'm going home to my family. And it's not going to be in a body bag.”

 The other man blinks at the brutal honesty.

 “Let's get one thing straight. I'm here to help you. I'm not here to die for you. For any of you. If it comes down between me and your wife, I'm being a selfish bastard and choosing me. Because I've got my own wife at home. I've got four kids. And I made a promise to all of them that I was coming home. Alive. And no one is going to stop that from happening.”

 “Your family gets the money,” McCann reminds him. “If you don't make it, they still get the money. As long as my wife gets out of there.”

 “I don't give a shit about the money.  Five and a half years ago, when I had a death wish, I would have gladly gone in there and offered myself up for a complete stranger. Back then I wouldn't have given a shit. I was close to putting a bullet in my own head, so it wouldn't have mattered if someone did it for me.  But now? I have way too much to lose. People that count on me. Depend on me. And as big of a dick as I sound for saying it, your wife's life is not worth more than mine.”

 “I'm counting on you, Rake. I'm counting on you to get her out of there. To make those bastards pay. Don't fuck me over just because all of a sudden you can't take the heat or because you get a little squeamish.”

 “I can take the heat. And I don't get squeamish. We're not buddies. We're not partners. So you better watch who you threaten. I'm not scared of you. Or your buddies in the IRA.  You asked for my help. I could have easily just told you to fuck off and leave me alone.  But I'm here. I'm on your side. And if you're the one that's planning to fuck me over, you better start thinking twice right about now.”

 “You don't trust me?”

 “I don't trust anyone. It isn't personal. If I find out there's any hidden agenda or something you're not telling me, you better run and hide.  Run far. Find the darkest, deepest hidden place you can. I will come for you.  If I get to Belfast and this was all some kind of bullshit to get me away from my family...to make me vulnerable...there isn't going to be a place I can't find you.”

 McCann smirks.  “Now you're threatening me?”

 “That's not a threat. That's a promise.  Don't fuck me over. I'm warning you right now. Because if I come for you, you better have a goddamn army to help you out.  All those stories you've heard? The things I've done? The people I've killed. They're all true.  Bigger and better than you have tried to put me down. And I'm still here. So if this is some kind of game...”

 “This is all true. Every word of it. The videos you saw. All real.  This isn't some kind of ploy to get you into a strange place and catch you off guard. This is exactly what it is. A job. I need your help.  No games. No bullshit.”

 “Fair enough,” Tyler says, once more leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. Hoping the other man will take the hint and leave him alone.

 “You just do your job, Rake.  You get my wife out of there and you make those bastards pay. In whatever way you have to. I need you to give me your word. That you won't leave her there. That you won't just drop her off in the middle of nowhere or leave her in the street.  At least give me that. At least give me your word that you'll do whatever it takes. That you'll make them pay.”

 He sighs and opens his eyes, seeing the hand that is being offered.

 “You have my word,” he says, and they shake on it.

 *****

 While not exactly five star, the hotel in Belfast is a far cry from the one he’d stayed at in Dhaka.   Clean. Spacious enough for two queen sized beds. Fresh carpet and paint; no unusual or concerning stains lingering on the walls.  No weird smells.  No obnoxious noise from the street below. Running water -hot water at that- and a normal shower and tub. A toilet that flushes.

 There’s two closets. The first one he uses to stash his clothes and personal effects. The second he uses for the ruck sack filled with weapons; using an abnormally large and powerful combination lock looped through the handles on the doubles door to keep it safe and secure.  He removes the holster from his right hip; setting both it and the Glock in the top drawer of the nightstand that separates the two beds.

 He hangs the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the hotel room door, then sets both the locks; deadbolt and flimsy chain. Toes his boots off and leaves them in front of the closet that holds the weapons.  The SAT phone he uses to send a message to Nik that he’s arrived and to expect a call soon from her brother, then he places it in the drawer next to the Glock.  There’s an unlocked mini bar in the far corner; next to the dresser and the wall mounted TV.  Locating the remote, he turns the latter on and selects a local news channel, volume on low as he grabs a travel bottle of scotch from the bar and cracks open the seal. He doesn’t even consider grabbing a glass from the small kitchenette, taking a long pull straight from the bottle as he stands in front of the sliding glass door that leads out onto the small balcony.  The room overlooks the downtown area, much cleaner than the market area in Dhaka. Less populated. White mini lights strung up in the trees that line the curbs, shops with illuminated closed signs, flashing neon advertising which bars and restaurants are open to patrons.

 His stomach growls. Prompting him to make a mental note to order room service.

 Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he places the bottle of scotch on the floor and his elbows on his knees, running his hands over his weary face, then clasping his hands together and closing his eyes. Contemplating his first moves when the new day breaks. He has to wait for Yaz to get some information; even the smallest tidbit that will send him in the right possible direction.  Wandering aimlessly through town will only draw unnecessary attention. People will find who he is and what he’s there for when the time is right.

 He opens his eyes, meeting his own reflection in the glass.  His beard needs a trim. He already needs to take the clippers to the shortest parts of his hair.  

 He’ll do that in the morning.

 Taking another swig of scotch, he stands up; wincing as his knees crack noisily.  He finds his cell phone in the inside pocket of the flack jacket that he’d worn from the airport and now hangs in the unlocked hall closet.  Hitting the second number on speed dial as he slides open the patio door and steps outside.  The air is crisp and fresh; an unusually cool evening for summer in Ireland, he’d been told by the desk clerk. And he takes a seat on one of the patio chairs just as the call reaches the fourth ring and someone finally answers.

 “Hey,” he greets, his heart immediately feeling a hundred pounds lighter at the familiar sounds of his ‘normal’ life in the background; the dog barking, the kids squabbling, the baby giggling and attempting speech.

 “Hey,” he can hear the relief in her voice. He knows she’s smiling. “Did you just get in?”

 “About half an hour ago.”

 “What time is it there?”

 “Eight thirty. PM.”  He does the math in his head.  He’s seven hours ahead. Making it one thirty, her time.

 “How was the flight?”

 “Long. No issues though. I don’t know who this guy is that Nik knows or what she has on him that he’s so willing to cough up his private jet, but I’m not going to complain.”

 ‘Maybe they’re friends. Special friends. If you catch my drift.”

 He grins. “Maybe. I’m sure she has a lot of special friends.”

 “You sound tired.”

 “I am. Tired. Sore. Hungry.”

 “Well make sure you eat. I know how you get when you start throwing yourself into something. You won’t do anyone any good if you’re trying to run on an empty tank.”

 He smirks. “Worrying about me from even thousands of miles away, huh?”

 “It’s what I do, Tyler. I worry. I try to take care of you.  It would be a lot easier if you weren’t so damn stubborn. Are you okay?”

 “I’m fine,” he picks the bottle of scotch up off the ground and takes a swig. “You okay?”

 “I guess. As good as I can be. The first couple of days are the worst. But I manage.”

 “The kids?”

 “They’re doing okay.  They get sad and weepy every now and then. Tyler is grumpy as all hell. He is so much like you. He even has the same facial expressions when he’s mad or irritated. I see so much of you in him. Tanner is really stepping in to help him through things.  He’s an old soul, that one. He’s just so sensitive and so intuitive. Such a big heart in such a tiny body.”

 “Like his mom. All the best stuff he got from you.”

 “Oh I don’t know about that. He got some pretty amazing things from you, too.”

 He smiles at that. “And Millie?”  

 “She’s pretty bitchy. I’ve had to send her to her room twice already today.  She’s just snapping at everything and taking it out on her brothers. She’s stronger than she looks. She almost beat the living shit out of Tyler because he looked at her the wrong way. And you know how strong and tough he is.  Your daughter does not take shit from anyone. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I mean, at least we know she’ll be able to handle herself when she gets older if some asshole tries anything with her. But at the same time, she should not be beating the crap out of her brothers. She even goes after the baby. And all he’s doing is baby things.”

 “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. If she’ll talk to me, that is.”

 “She’ll be fine, Tyler. She’ll be happy to hear your voice. She’s already asked about you. Three times. If you’d gotten to Ireland yet and if you’d called to say you were okay.  I know she feels bad. For what she said to you. Please don’t let it bother you. She’s a little girl. She just worries about you and misses you. She didn’t mean what she said. Don’t hold it against her.”

 “I don’t. I just thought I had a lot of years to go before she said something like that. Like when I started scaring potential boyfriends off. I swear to God, if she brings home some guy with weird hair and tattoos…”

 “You basically just described yourself,” his wife laughs.

 “You like my hair.”

 “I love your hair.  You know she’s going to bring someone home that you just despise, right?”

 “I’m going to despise all of them. Not just one of them. All of them. None of them will be good enough for her. Not a single damn one.”

 “I’m sure someone will come along that you like. Maybe someone like you. A military guy.”

 “Uh, yeah, no. That’s definitely not what I want for her.”

 “I don’t know, you’re a pretty good catch. And you’re ex military. So…”

 “Ex. You hit the nail on the head. Ex. Look what I do now. Is that really what you want for our daughter? This kind of life?”

 “I think you’re overreaching. There’s a big difference between her finding a military guy and her finding a mercenary. And where would she ever find one of those?”

 “You found me,” he points out.

 “Only because I was already in the job. Our paths would never have crossed if I hadn’t had been. I doubt that is going to be a lifestyle that she choice.  She’s beautiful and smart and…”

 “So are you.”

 “…and we’ll do our best to get her on a different path. That’s years away, Tyler. Why stress about it now? And why talk as if this is the worst possible life to have? It isn’t. I know you get down on yourself and you think you’re a failure as a husband and a father. You think that I hate you and that I hate this life.  But I’ve never once hated you. Ever. And I don’t hate this life. It’s not my most favourite thing and it’s hard. But I walked into this. Willingly. I fell in love with you.  I chose you. And I don’t regret that. So please don’t ever think I do.”

 Silence falls between them as he considers her words; the power of them both comforting and overwhelming. And he closes his eyes against the hot, bitter tears that threaten.

 “Tyler?”

 He clears his throat noisily. “Yeah?”

 “Are you okay?”

 “Yeah, I’m fine,” he assures her.  “I miss you.”

 “Already?” he can practically hear the grin on her face. “That was quick.”

 “I missed you the second I got on the plane,” he admits.

 “I miss you too, baby. It was hard this morning. Waking up and not having you there. With your messy hair and your sleepy little grin.  The way you kiss me awake. And the way you do other things to wake me up.”

 He grins at that.

 “Most of all, I just miss you. I miss your smell. The sound of your voice.  Your smile. The way it crinkles the corners of your eyes. I miss all those things.”

 He can hear the emotion in her voice; the way it chokes at her. And he can’t hold back the tears any longer; allowing them to flow freely down his cheeks and the sides of his nose.

 “Please be safe,” her voice is barely above a whisper. “Because if anything happens to you…”

 “I’ll be fine,” he assures her, and uses the back of his hand to wipe the tears away.  “You know how you said you didn’t trust McCann? That something about him just doesn’t feel right? And I said you were probably just on edge? Well I’m starting to think you’re right.”

 The line crackles as she moves the phone from one ear to the other. “What’s happened?”

 “Just a conversation we had on the plane. The other day when we first met, he wanted me to be the one that goes for the kids. I told him that I couldn’t do it. That I wouldn’t do it. That I didn’t feel confident that I’d be able to safely get three of us out. One kid was enough in Dhaka. And he was a teenager. Not a little one. I told him that he should be the one to get his kids. That I’d deal with the wife.”

 “Makes sense. I mean, they might panic if they saw you. A complete stranger all dressed up like he’s going to war.  That would just make things worse if they got scared and freaked out. They won’t do that if it’s their dad.”

 “Exactly what I thought. It just makes more sense. I brought up what would happen if I could only get myself and one of them out of there. How would I make that kind of decision? About which kid lives or dies?”

 “Tyler…” she sighs. “…don’t do this…”

 “He threw it back in my face on the plane. He asked me how I would choose. If it came down to the twins. If I knew I could only get one of them out alive. Which one would I pick?”

 “Tyler…”

 “I told him I wouldn’t. That I’d make a deal. My life for both of theirs. It’s me someone would want. Not them. They’d just be using the kids to get to me.”

 Silence from the other end.

 “Esme?”

 “I’m here,” the sadness hangs heavily in her voice. “Tyler, why are you…?”

 “I would do it. In a heartbeat. Offer myself up for them. For any of my kids. For you.”

 “I know. But…”

 “It was weird. How he responded to that. Like he wasn’t on the same page. What father wouldn’t do that for their kids? Especially when he knows that he’s the one they want? What father wouldn’t give himself up to save his children? I can’t wrap my head around that. Then he asked me I’d do if it came down to saving myself or his wife.”

 “And you said…”

 “I told him that her life isn’t worth more than mine. That I have my own wife and my own family and I’m going home to them. And it’s not going to be in a body bag. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a selfish prick now.”

 “It’s not selfish. It’s smart. It’s self preservation.”

 “There’s something not quite right about this guy. I didn’t like the way he acted when I talked about how he might have to sacrifice himself for his kids. He was reluctant. He wasn’t willing to make that choice. And that’s fucked up. To me, anyways. It should be an easy decision to make. At least in my eyes.”

 “Be careful, Tyler. Watch your back. Even more so than you usually do. Something isn’t right here. And I think you’re beginning to think that way too.”

 “Yeah…” he finishes off the scotch. “…I am. I miss you,” he says once more. “I miss you so fucking much.”

 “I miss you too.  Be safe, okay? Come home in one piece.”

 “I will. I promise.”

 “Go and get something to eat. And try to get some sleep. You’ve got a big job ahead of you. I’m proud of you, just so you know. I’m so proud of you, Tyler. For doing the things you do. For other people. I know it’s not easy on you. But you still do it. You still put people ahead of yourself. Even knowing the consequences. Even knowing the ending might be horrible. You’re the strongest person I know. And the bravest. Whether you want to hear that or not. Whether you want to admit it. Ovi was right. When he said you were brave for rescuing people. You are.”

 “I love you,” he manages through another wave of tears.  “Just know that I love you. That I always have, I always will.”

 “Please don’t talk like that. It sounds so…final.”

 “I just want you to hear it. I just want you to remember it. Just in case.”

 “I love you too. I’ve loved you right from the beginning.  I meant it. When I said it to you on that bridge. I know it was way too soon. It shouldn’t have made any sense. But I meant it. I love you and I can’t wait for you to come home. Please be careful.”

 “I will. I’ll call you tomorrow. Hug and kiss the kids for me. Tell them I love them. That I miss them. That I’ll be home soon.”

 “I will,” she promises. “And eat, Tyler. Get something in your stomach. And then get some sleep. Or try to at least.”

 “I love you,” he says one last time.

 “I love you, too. We’ll talk soon.”  And with that, she disconnects the call.

 Sighing, he places his cell phone on the ground beside the empty bottle of scotch and runs his hands over his face.  Unable to shake the feeling that he’s walking straight into hell.

[joonsjeon]

Mile High Club (M)

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook Words: 3045 Genre: Smut Warnings: semi public, oral sex, dom!jungkook

Only now you realized that the look in his eyes, which you had thought to be his sleepiness, was nothing less than lust. 

The boarding had begun. You stood in line with your boyfriend Jungkook, patiently waiting for all the people in front of you to step forward. Your hand was gently wrapped around his, as you stood close to him, resting your head on his shoulder. It was a night flight after one of their concerts, no time to rest, but just jet setting straight to the next city. Usually you used the chance of these flights to get at least a tiny bit of sleep for the next day. Looking up to his face, which was mostly covered by the mask he was wearing and his hat hanging deep into his face, you saw his tired eyes almost shutting close while you stood here. You hated to see him drained like this because you knew that he wouldn’t get the chance to properly rest for the next couple of days as well. Ever so slowly the crowd of people got smaller, one after another making their way into the plane. The seats of the others were scattered all over the place, so according to that they had queued earlier or later than both of you did. In a trance you made your own way down the aisle, finding your seat. He liked to sit by the window, so after he had quickly stored his bag in the overhead compartment he took a seat. He offered to put your bag in there as well, but you declined, usually preferring to have it down by your feet. When you were seated as well, luckily the places next to you stayed free. He finally took of his hat and mask, giving you the opportunity to look at his beautiful face. Even when he was exhausted like today you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. The dark eyes, the plumb lips and that cute mole underneath them. There was no such thing as getting tired of looking at him. He looked at you with a smile at the corner of his lips, putting out his hand for you to place your own inside it once again. “I’m happy that you are here with me. Keeps me motivated.” He said in a low voice, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You didn’t expect it, but he reached out to cup your face, pulling you closer for a kiss. However, it was nothing like quickly showing affection, the way you thought. He soon tucked at your bottom lip with his teeth, the way he always did when he wanted to let his tongue slip into your mouth. And most of the time that did not end so innocently. You backed off, not giving him what he wanted, which is why he looked at you displeased but also confused. “You should get some rest, Kookie.” You said trying to lean back into your seat, but he did not seem to allow that. Only now you realized that the look in his eyes, which you had thought to be his sleepiness, was nothing less than lust. He blinked at you, as if he hadn’t understood a word you said and then instead of responding, he let his actions do the trick for him. He pulled you in for another kiss while at the same time moving your still intertwined hands down to his crotch. He lay your hand flat on it, as you felt him not yet being hard, but definitely getting there. And even though you were not keen on doing anything in public, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip again and the feeling of him against the palm of your hand, immensely turned you on. As you were about to give in to him, you heard the voice of a flight attendant sounding through the speakers. The safety instructions were given now. Which meant after that, they would go around to check if all seatbelts had been fastened and as much as you wanted to keep your hand on his growing bulge, you had no intentions of being caught before things even started. So you pushed him back into his seat, breaking all kinds of contact while mumbling “At least wait until take off.” Again, he did not seem pleased with that reaction, but he understood. The tension between the two of you was almost visible. Even when you tried keeping your eyes off each other, both of you failed miserably. You glanced at his face, eyes even darker than they were before. Cheeks flushed already from the anticipation and keeping himself restrained for that long and lips rose pink from the kisses you shared. Then, your gaze went further down to his pants, more worried that anybody would notice when passing your seats, but you couldn’t see anything just yet. “Sorry Miss.” A female voice suddenly echoed next to you, a stewardess stood there with a fake smile planted on her face. “I need to ask you if you could possibly store that bag of yours in one of the overhead compartments. We expect some turbulence on this flight so it is for your own safety.” She politely explained and so you simply nodded. She offered to do it for you, but you declined - because as you stretched up your arms above your head, the hem of your dress slipped up along with that motion. It gave Jungkook enough time to let his thoughts wander about what you wore under that dress of yours, sparking all kind of imaginations. So as soon as you positioned yourself next to him again, his eyes were all over you. “Fucking tease.” He muttered slightly annoyed that he didn’t get what he wanted, which most likely was to roam his hands all over your body, feeling you whimper under his touch. You only chuckled because once again it showed how easily you had him wrapped around your finger. You let your hair spill over your shoulder, knowing by his looks that he now thought about the feeling of it wrapped around his knuckles, giving it a tug to tilt your head in a specific direction. As the plane finally took off, the lights were dimmed down within the cabin, the way it usually happened on night flights because people tend to sleep anyway or watch a movie at their own personal screens. That actually made things a lot easier. You looked around yourself, making sure that nobody was paying attention to you. Then you boldly placed your hand on his leg, stroking over his thigh. He inhaled sharply at your sudden touch, tensing up in his seat, but not for a second thinking about pushing your hand away and keeping the eye contact you had created. The intense glares you exchanged made your breath hitch, how were you supposed to resist him. Continuously rubbing your palm along his thigh, sliding higher ever so slowly, a smile eased over your lips when he finally let himself go and rested the back of his head against the backrest. You let your fingernails run over the fabric of his pants, leaning close to his ear to softly nibble at his earlobe, feeling the metal of his piercings between your teeth, and afterwards placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck which let a low growl escape his mouth. He could no longer stand not touching you and locked your lips once again, this time not even needing to ask for permission, but just flicking his tongue around yours hungrily. You couldn’t refrain to moan into the kiss because by now your mind was clouded with thoughts of him thrusting between your legs. He leaned back and it was impossible for him to hide his hard-on at that point, swallowing strongly as he felt your hand pressing firmly around his erection, your own clit pulsing from arousal as well. You gently squeezed his cock and felt him jerk in your hand, his fingers digging into the edges of the armrests along with his tongue slipping out, moistening his lips seductively. “Jungkook…” you cooed into his ear, reaching out for his hand and slowly placing it on your upper thigh at the hem of your dress. He didn’t need a second invitation and smoothly let his fingers run over the thin fabric of your panties, not wasting too much time before pushing them aside to coat his fingers in your wetness. His throbbing member was so hard by now that it must have almost hurt to be trapped inside the tight trousers he wore.   “I want you.” He whispered, which caused you to bite back a moan as he ran his long fingers all the way along your slit, teasing to push them inside without actually giving you that release. “I want you to suck me off…before I can pound deep into you.” He continued, placing sloppy kisses on your neck in-between his words. Sweat was already building on your forehead, unconsciously biting your lip at the sound of his wishes and parting your legs further to make the access easier for him. His words soon formed clear pictures in your mind, setting your already throbbing core on fire, barely able to keep quiet as his fingers finally sunk into you. “Get to the bathroom and I will follow.” He husked, stroking your clit one last time before pulling his fingers away. A last look into his eyes and you reluctantly made your way where he told you to go, longing for his touch the second he had slipped his fingers out of you. On your way down the aisle, to the back of the plane, you walked past none other than Yoongi, clearly looking at you. To your surprise, it didn’t look like he suspected anything, even though your face must have already been bright red. But he sure would as soon as Jungkook would walk past him in a few minutes. The two passengers next to him were already sleeping, therefore being the only thing keeping him from saying anything to you. Instead just flashing a quick smile, which you innocently returned. You closed the bathroom door behind you. Before hopping onto the small sink, bringing yourself already into position, you stepped out of your panties and threw them in the corner of the small room. When the door finally opened up and you saw your boyfriend’s head pop up from behind the door, your heart almost skipped a beat, wanting to feel him inside you so badly. “Did anybody see you?” you quickly asked, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer to you. His breath lingering at your upper lip mixed with the scent of him drove you insane. Everything about him could turn you on in an instant. He softly laughed at the sight of you being so desperate for him now, the tables had turned apparently. His hands landed on your hips, tugging your dress up so far that he saw you already got rid of the piece of clothing he was about to remove. “Nobody saw me… good girl, already taking off those panties for me.” He murmured, pressing his lips on yours at the same time as his grip on your hips got stronger when he started rubbing his still clothed member on you. Coaxed moans filled the room, but you couldn’t let go of the thought of Suga seeing him after he already saw you. “Are you sure? Yoongi saw me before.” You whispered with your foreheads pressed together, stroking through his soft hair. You had pushed yourself away to ask that question, but still instantly missed the feeling of his warm lips pressed on yours. “I don’t know. I didn’t see him. Don’t worry about that now.” He said, making you let go of the thought when his hand slipped between your legs and hovered over your core. Your hands traveled all the way down his upper body, from his shoulders to the button of his jeans, popping it open with ease. You reached straight inside his boxers to make him feel equally good as he made you feel right now, grabbing his thick shaft, stroking up and down all the way of his length. He bucked his hips in response, a cocky and satisfied smile appearing on his lips. It looked so hot that you yourself whined a little in need. “Get down on your knees for me, babygirl.” He demanded and you gladly obeyed as soon as he had stepped back, making space for you in front of him. When you sank to the floor, you pulled his pants along, his hard dick finally able to spring free with his tip almost caressing your cheek. You licked your lips while looking up into his eyes, signaling him how much you loved the sight of his erection and then firmly grabbed the base of his shaft. Wrapping your mouth around the head of his cock, you watched him throw his head back in pleasure, your hair wrapped around his knuckles the way he probably imagined it before, moans escaping him with your every move. Your head bobbed back and forth, sucking hard on him, stroking whatever didn’t fit in your mouth and moaning deeply because you knew just how much he loved to feel the vibration. Your free hand was located on his thigh, digging your nails into his flesh which would surely leave a mark or two for him to remember. His hard member twitched against your tongue, making him feel so good that he murmured your name under his breath every now and then. But then he suddenly grabbed a hold of your shoulders, quickly pulling you back up, helping you to hop back on the sink and keeping you steady by placing his hands on your upper legs. With his eyes locked on yours, he placed himself at your entrance. With his hand wrapped around his own length, he started rubbing the tip along your wet slit, so that it glistened not only with his pre cum dripping out but now also mixed with your own juices. If it weren’t for his one hand still pushing down on your hip, you would have pushed yourself onto him, not able to endure any more of his teasing. But he loved nothing more than to see you melt under his touch. “Please Jungkook…” you begged him, licking along his neck to taste his salty sweat which also made him bite his lip at the feeling. Finally, he sank into you, making it almost painful for both of you as he took his time. He panted at the intensity of you being so tight around him. You threw your head back against the mirror and clung to his shoulders for further support as he thrust his wet dick into you harder and faster each time. One of his hands had found their way back up to your neck, pulling you close and slamming his lips onto yours, groaning into your mouth, only breaking the heated kiss to gasp for air again. Each time he rammed into you harshly, heated whimpers left your lips right next to his ear, only encouraging him to go deeper. If he could, he would have ripped that dress off of you a long time ago, to feel your soft skin under his fingertips and to swirl his tongue around your stiff nipples that were peeking through your dress, but that wasn’t an option now. And as long as he could pump into you, he didn’t really care for anything else either. “Touch yourself for me.” Judging by the way he breathed and how his thrusts weren’t as steady anymore, he probably felt the sensation build up in him quickly. Hearing his husky voice let shivers rush through your body, all bundling up where he wanted you to touch yourself. “If you… want me to.” You let a hand drop between your own legs. Bucking your hips to meet his, you let your fingers rub over your swollen nub, driving you closer to your own release. There was physically no way for him to be buried deeper inside you, still, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pressed yourself against him as hard as you could, crying out by the way he hit just the right spot now. The longer he fucked you, sensually moving your lips together when your breathing allowed it, the more you felt your climax building up in your core, not able to hold it in much longer because he felt so good sinking in and out of you with ease. “I’m so close…please don’t stop.” You begged with a shaky voice, clenching tighter around him by the second. He used his last bit of strength to slam into you once harder, pulling you closer with a grip on your hip, almost lifting you off of the sink in the heat of the moment that clouded both of your minds. Breathing each other’s air because your foreheads were pressed together, only added up to your dizziness. “Come…” he grunted. “Come for me, (Y/N).” That was all that you needed, his dark voice cooing out your name pushed you over the edge, letting your climax shatter through your entire body while you cried out. The feeling of you contracting around his dick ensured that he released himself into you only shortly after that intense orgasm of yours. Grunting deeply, a mixture of curse words and your name slipped out of him, as well as the sexy sight of him throwing his head back one last time. Both of you took a minute to come down from your high, falling back into normal breathing and a calm heartbeat. He pulled out of you, grabbing his pants from the floor and throwing them on quickly. The sight of his sweaty forehead with his hair sticking to it formed a smirk on your face. As he picked your underwear and held it out to you, you still smirked at him and then teasingly asked “Was that the best flight you ever had?” He laughed, trying to fix his appearance after glancing into the mirror for the first time. “Always wanted to join the mile high club, love.”

[njawaidofficial]

'Airplane!' Review: 1980 Movie | Hollywood Reporter

http://styleveryday.com/2017/07/02/airplane-review-1980-movie-hollywood-reporter/

'Airplane!' Review: 1980 Movie | Hollywood Reporter

On July 2, 1980, Paramount unveiled in theaters Airplane!, which would eventually become known as one of the great movie comedy satires. The Hollywood Reporter‘s original review is below.

Paramount should have an easy summer, just sitting back and collecting the huge profits that will be flying in daily on Airplane! This Howard W. Koch production, which was made for the amazingly low budget of $3.5 million, is hilarious and will undoubtedly soar into the stratosphere of the year’s big moneymakers. 

The geniuses behind this inspired silliness are Jim Abrahams, David Zucker and Jerry Zucker, who wrote, directed and executive produced the outrageous spoof, with Jon Davison on board as producer. These three crazy comics from Milwaukee first developed their peculiar brand of zany, media-oriented satire on stage in their Kentucky Fried Theatre, which kept Los Angeles audiences in stitches for four years. They then transferred pieces from this comedy revue to the screen in The Kentucky Fried Movie. These were just sketches, however, and Airplane! marks their first fully developed script. And hopefully it is just the beginning. 

Airplane! is essentially an affectionate, albeit totally irreverent, tribute to the movies. Specifically, it is an outrageous satire of Paramount’s 1957 drama, Zero Hour, to which the plot bears a vague resemblance. But it also sends up almost every other airplane drama, disaster epic and turgid melodrama ever made, from Jaws (jetliner tail fins cutting through the upper level of a cloud bank to the strains of John Williams’ ominous Jaws theme) to From Here to Eternity (a passionate couple emerging from the pounding surf covered with slimy seaweed). There is also a wild takeoff of the Saturday Night Fever dance contest, set in a seedy waterfront disco. 

The humor is an ingenious concoction of satire, spoof, burlesque, slapstick, raunchy dialogue and low-comedy sight gags. The jokes are directed at sex, politics, religion and almost everything else. The level of humor is not always consistent, but the filmmakers have thrown almost everything in with a shotgun approach and the routines work more often than not. 

The direction is as wild and woolly as the script, but the team of Abrahams, Zucker and Zucker have a good eye for visual jocularity and they set the sight gags up for maximum effect. The facetiousness has also been kept to a tight 88-minute running time by Patrick Kennedy’s rapid-paced editing. 

The performances are perfectly tuned to the visual antics, and the swollen dialogue is delivered with intense mock seriousness. Robert Hays and Julie Hagerty are ideally cast as the young lovers. Hagerty is the epitome of the simpering, wholesome stewardess heroine, and Hays is exceedingly personable in his underplayed comical portrayal of a Vietnam veteran who is haunted by the fact that he bungled a flight mission and who now must land the jetliner when the crew and many of the passengers are stricken with food poisoning. 

Adding greatly to the zany fun are Peter Graves as the pilot; Kareem Abdul-Jabbar as the co-pilot; Leslie Nielsen as a doctor who is on board; Robert Stack as an ex-officer who never got along with Hays but who must talk him down in the plane; Lloyd Bridges as a harried control tower manager and Lorna Patterson as a stewardess. The performances are all humorously restrained, except for Stephen Stucker, whose outrageously flamboyant portrayal of a control tower employee occasionally gets out of hand and is not consistent with the other performances. 

The large supporting cast is equally funny, and there are particularly amusing cameos by Ethel Merman, Howard Jarvis, Jimmie Walker and several other featured players. 

The technical production, including Joseph Biroc’s photography and Ward Preston’s production design, is impressive, especially considering the budget — the film looks as good as several of the recent efforts that cost many times as much. Elmer Bernstein’s tongue-in-cheek music heightens the visual effects, which are nicely realized in Bruce Logan’s special effects photography and Richard O. Helmer’s miniatures — Ron Pennington, originally published on June 27, 1980

Twitter: @THRArchives

Source

#Airplane, #Hollywood, #Movie, #Reporter, #Review

[flymeandtiememaam2]

“Mmmmmpppphhhh!!”

“Look at it this way, sir - at least you don’t have to wear a mask!”

Needless to say, formerly unruly passenger, Derek, now neatly bound, gagged and helpless, did not appreciate the senior stewardess’ sense of irony…

Sources: NBC News and Pinterest

[flymeandtiememaam2]

Trouble On Board, Part 9

Sadly for Jamie and Laurence, their final acts of defiance ended the only way they could: Jamie being escorted, his hands bound together, back to the rear of the plane by Jane, helped by her colleague Eileen. “There are always more of us flight attendants on planes like these than you think, sir,” Jane told the frustrated man while she tied his wrists, “so please behave yourself for the rest of the flight, otherwise the police will have to release you from a hogtie after we land!”

Meanwhile Laurence, efficiently guarded by dark-haired Amy, cast his eyes down in disappointment as he saw his stag night buddy being hauled back to the rear of the plane where Laurence was still being held. “I’m afraid you can’t actually fight City Hall, sir.” remarked Amy with a knowing smile as the two tied up male prisoners were unwillingly reunited…

THE END.

AI images created via Microsoft Bing before its upgrade.

[flymeandtiememaam2]

Derek’s POV

Sometimes Derek really hated East Asian women. Not only were they utterly unforgiving, but they were completely smug and supercilious too. All he had done was feel the pert little backsides of one or two of the Hong Kong Airlines cabin crew on his boring flight home to Australia. The minxes should have been flattered! Did he really deserve to be tied up, guarded, threatened with arrest and mocked by the smirking little witch who had bound him (she knew she had made it too tight!) Harridans!!

Source: Pinterest

[flymeandtiememaam2]

Daring Her

“Don’t be ridiculous, you silly girl, you can’t restrain me!” the aggressive and drunk male passenger snorted in derision at Sally. “Don’t you know who I am? Run along and bring me a male officer I can have a sensible conversation with!”

“Please, sir,” replied Sally calmly, “return to your seat or I will restrain you!” The man sneered at the young woman, breathing alcohol into her face. “Go on then, you little trollop…. I dare you!”

“I warned you, sir.” said Sally a few minutes later, sitting down next to the anguished passenger after she had put him in an armlock until he surrendered to her and then tied his wrists together in front of him with a length of restraint rope. “You can protest all you like,” she continued. “but you will stay like this until we land - and just be thankful I didn’t tie you up behind your back or gag you!” The man opened his mouth, thought a second and then closed it again.

Source: Pinterest; AI image created via Ideogram.

[flymeandtiememaam2]

In Trouble

“This is your own fault, sir,” Rachael the stewardess scolded, “you will remain here, tied up in the rear of the plane until we land. And then you will have to explain yourself to the authorities!”

Brian, his hands bound behind his back by Rachael, looked shame-faced. “I know, miss,” he apologised, “I’m sorry, miss.” Rachael sighed impatiently, a twinge of sympathy touching her as she saw her captive’s evident embarrassment and contrition. “If you behave yourself,” she continued, sounding a little more conciliatory, “I maybe able to loosen your bonds in an hour or two.”

“Thankyou, miss.” replied Brian respectfully.

Source: AI video tool PixVerse

[flymeandtiememaam2]

“Mmmph, mmmmph, mmmmph!” POV

Hands tightly tied behind my back, ankles securely bound, ignominiously deposited on my side in the middle of the aisle, and now my mouth stuffed with a wad of material when the Singapore Airlines flight attendant who had supervised my tying up by the other stewardesses, had finally grown tired of my noisy (if a little drunken) protests at my heinous treatment by these Southeast Asian witches, I lay there “mmmmphing” helplessly.

To make matters worse, the senior stewardess who had so delighted in humilating me after I had tried to enter the cockpit to discuss the flight path with the captain, was now crouching right in front of me, ignoring me while she solicitously enquired after the welfare of a child allegedly alarmed at the cufuffle that had happened when that cabin crew coven had been subduing me. It made matters all the worse that the overbearing trollop in charge also wore an unfeasibly tight skirt and had an extremely attractive bottom, which she no doubt took great pleasure in wiggling as she crouched in front of my very eyes. Who do these women think they are??

“Mmmmph!”

Source: Pinterest

[flymeandtiememaam2]

Stupid Jimmy

Never underestimate a flight attendant, James!

Source: Pinterest; AI image created via Ideogram; captions mine.

[flymeandtiememaam2]

Stock photo of female flight attendants being trained how to effectively but safely restrain a male passenger by forcing him to the floor and then tying his hands behind his back.

Source: Alamy Stock Photos