Corsair Crash

by Emerald Omen

Rating: teen
Tags: Thriller, Equestria Girls, Tragedy, Self Insert, Adventure, Human, Spitfire, Anon, Second Person
Length: 4694

It's time for your first day at flight school! As soon as you walk in the door, you see a girl more beautiful than the sun itself. You must befriend her. But how...

It's your first day of flight school. You spot a beautiful girl in your first class, and are forced to sit next to her. After a few minutes, you two are inseparable. You become partners, and learn how to fly together.

But when things take a turn for the worse, how will it affect your relationship? Or yourself?

As of right now, this contains no clop. HOWEVER, if enough people ask for a clop addition to the end of the story, I will add it!

(So, I look back at this story long after I wrote it, and I'm not at all proud of it. It was rushed, and it clearly shows, at least to me. I won't take it down, for the small amount of people who do read and enjoy it. Who knows, maybe I'll come back and give it a whole hearted rewrite.)

Published 2017-05-12 23:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-05-12 23:20:01 UTC

First Day of School

You walked to the bottom of the stairs of the Military Air Force Academy, and hesitated. You had already been to the school where you took all your tests, and learned the basics. Now, you were here to fly. You took a deep breath, and began climbing the stairs. They seemed to go on forever. You adjusted your school bag over your back, and reached the top of the stairs. The school building seemed to tower over you, casting a looming shadow.

The twin doors standing in front of you seemed to weigh a ton as you pushed them aside. Your first step into the school, and you begin to lose your nerve. Someone cleared your throat behind you. You realized you were standing in the middle of the entrance. You quickly walked aside, letting a girl with fiery orange hair walk past you. She seemed to glow in the low light of the school hall. She smiled at you as she walked past, and turned the corner around the hall. You held your bag up to your chest and leaned against the wall, watching where the girl just was.

“God.” you mutter under your breath. The metal old fashioned bell rang loudly throughout the empty halls as the clock struck eight.

You looked at your schedule and realized you were already late. On your first day! You quickly run to your first class, and burst in the door. All of about six students in the small classroom turn to look your way. You notice the teacher was not present yet. You also notice that the only empty seat is next to the beautiful, orange haired girl who passed you in the hall only a few minutes ago. She smiled at you, and moved her things closer to her, so you had room to sit next to her. You gently sit your things next to hers, and give her a polite nod.

“Morning” you say, sitting in your seat.

“Hi. I'm Spitfire.” she said.

“My name is Anon.” you say, smiling back at her. Spitfire looked at the green chalkboard, which read “CHOOSE PARTNERS”. You also notice what it says, and glance at Spitfire, who blushes.

“Would you be my partner?” she asks, looking at you with her big, brown eyes.

“I'd be honored.” you say, noticing that she has very thick, black eyelashes. She blushes again.

“Thank you.” she said, putting her hand on yours. Now, it's your turn to blush. Her hand is very soft, and you try not to sweat. Before you get the chance, the teacher enters the classroom. He was a tall man, with little hair, wearing a very strict looking uniform.

“Good morning class.” he says in a low, almost growly tone. “Welcome to the flight training school. I'm Mr. Herman. As you all know, you are here because you passed the written exams, and now you're here to train with the real thing.” Mr. Herman said. He rolled down a picture over the chalkboard of a Corsair Fighter plane. “These are your training planes, Corsairs. They are of a unique design, letting the wings fold to the sides to save space for storage.” Mr. Herman droned. Spitfire leaned towards you.

“As if we didn't already know that.” she whispered in your ear.

Mr. Herman smacked his ruler on his desk.

“Do you have something you'd like to share with the class, Ms. Spitfire?” he demanded. Spitfire's face turned red, and she gulped. You decided to speak up.

“It was my fault, Mr. Hermon. I was just telling Spitfire a little about, uh, the unique paint jobs on fighter planes.” you say. Spitfire looks at you, and mouths

“Thank you.” You give her a wink, and look back to Mr. Hermon.

“Well, Mr. Anon, perhaps you would like to share your thoughts with the class.” Mr. Hermon said, but not in a friendly manner.

“Absolutely sir. I was mentioning that most planes were painting depending on where they were meant to be used. Planes that fought over seas were painted white and blue on the bottom, to blend with the sky, and blue on top to blend in with the water. The bottom was the same for land fighters, but they were green shades on top, to blend with the grass and fields. And now a days, they're experimenting with a pixel-lated paint style that works even better.” you finish, taking a breath. Spitfire's mouth hung open slightly.

“Well, Mr. Anon. I can see you certainly have studied your plane designs thoroughly, but please, try to save your comments for a more appropriate time from now on.” Mr. Hermon said, turning back to the board.

The rest of the class was rather boring, mostly stuff you didn't already know, but it went without a hitch. As the bell blasted throughout the old school, and class was dismissed. As the rest of the class walked out the door, Mr. Hermon stopped you.

“Anon, I have to say I am rather impressed with the knowledge of war planes you displayed today. Have you studied them long?” he asked. You shook your head.

“My father was in the war. He flew a Corsair, and was shot down. After that, I did a quick study up on the subject, and joined the academy.” you say. Mr. Hermon nodded.

“I'm sorry to hear that. But, since you seem to know your planes more than anyone else in the class, I'm assigning you and Spitfire to the lead Corsair. We begin flight training tomorrow, and each partner group is assigned a corsair to take care of and use. You two will get the black Corsair, which is the most powerful, and hardest to handle.” Mr. Hermon said. You raised your eyebrows.

“That's quite an honor sir. I won't disappointed you.” you said.

“For yours and Spitfires sake, I hope not.” Mr. Hermon said as you exited the classroom.

As you walked into the parking lot towards your car, you heard something. It sounded like... crying. You looked over at an older car with the hood up. You walked over to offer your help, when you noticed who it was. Spitfire. She was hanging her head over the engine of the car, crying. You quickly walked over, and put your hand on her back.

“Are you alright?” you ask. Spitfire looked up at you with a tear streaked face.

“O-oh, Anon. Hi.” she said, trying to look away.

“It's alright Spitfire. I don't mind. What's wrong?” you ask again.

“It's my damn car, it's broken. If I don't get home in half and hour, my dad will have my hide!” she said, starting to cry again. You held her up, and wiped the tears from her face.

“Hey, it's alright. I can give you a ride home.” you offer. Spitfire sniffed, and looked at you.

“Really? You'd do that? For me?” she asked innocently. You nod, and take the keys from your pocket.

“I'd even let you drive.” you say, tossing her a keys. She catches them, and looks at you in wonder.

“Thanks, but why would I...” she stops as she looks closer at the key you tossed her. “A Charger?” asks, turning over the key to reveal the Hemi badge.

“1969 Dodge Charger Hemi.” you say confidently. Spitfire's eyes light up.

“I love those! Four hundred and twenty five horsepower, four on the floor, and rear wheel drive!” she said excitedly. You tilted your head.

“Someone sure knows their cars.” you say, taking a glance in the engine of Spitfire's car. She sighed.

“Yeah, I know statistics, but I don't know how to keep them running.” she said. You shrugged.

“Honestly, they're not super difficult. Mind if I take a look in your engine?” you ask.

“Sure.” she says. You poke your head into her engine compartment, and look around. You glanced behind your for a moment, and could have sworn you saw Spitfire eying your butt. She blushed, and as you were about to stand up, the hood of her car came unlocked, and fell on you.

“Owww!” You fell onto the ground, holding your head with your hand. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know that the warm feeling on your hand was blood. Just before you blacked out, you saw Spitfire put her hand over her mouth.
. . .

A violent pain seared through your mind, and you groaned. You slowly opened your eyes, and tried to shake your head as you vision blurred.

“Ahhhh!” you screamed in pain as the head throbbing increased. You felt a hand on your arm, and let your eyes come into focus.

“Easy Anon. Easy.” you heard a soft voice whisper. You looked to your side, and saw Spitfire sitting by your side.

“W-what happened?” you whispered, coming to the realization that you were in a bed, in what appeared to be a girl's bedroom. A tear fell onto Spitfire's cheek, and she avoided your eyes.

“Well, I don't know if you remember, but you were fixing my car, and the hood fell on your head, and, well, gave your head a decently sized wound.” she said, looking at you with her big brown eyes.

“It's all my fault! I feel so bad for even asking you to...” you put a finger to her lips, and she stopped talking.

“It's not your fault Spiffy.” you said quietly. Spitfire's eye's seemed to burn into your soul.

“Yes it was. I should never have asked you to look at my car. It's my car, and my problem. I just met you, I shouldn't expect favors from you.” she whimpered. You smiled.

“Look, I wanted to help you. It was not your fault.” you insist, wincing as your head throbs. Spitfire sniffed.

“How did you even get me here, and where is here, exactly?” you ask. Spitfire smiled a little.

“Well, I kinda... used your car, and took you to my house. My father is a retired doctor, and bandaged your head up. Please don't me mad.” she says, looking worried about something.

“I'm not mad. Whats wrong?” you ask.

“Well, I'd never really driven a stick before, and kinda...” You smiled, and put your hand on hers.

“It's fine. I can fix it.” you say, wincing at the pain in your head. “So, how'd she ride?” you ask, smiling at her. Spitfire grinned.

“Amazing. I've never been in a car like it.” she said. You laughed, then groaned loudly as your head throbbed. Spitfire's face instantly changed to one of compassion. She slowly stood up, and leaned towards you. Before you knew it, her impressive bust was right in your face. Your eyes almost popped out of your head.

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, somewhat bewildered.

“Relax, I'm just putting a cool towel on your head. It will help with the pain.” she said, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. Unbelievable, your head pain subsided quite a bit. She smiled, and avoided your eyes. “See? I told you.” she said, playfully jabbing your side gently. She smiled.

“Well, I better be heading home. I got homework to do.” you said, standing up. Spitfire stood, and ran a hand through or fiery orange hair.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better. See you at school tomorrow?” she asked. You smiled.

“I'll try.” Spitfire smirked.

“You better be. We start flight training tomorrow, and you're the pilot. I can't fly a plane myself.” she said.

“I'll be there, don't you worry.” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder. It wasn't obvious, but you could tell she blushed at your touch.

“I look forward to it, Anon.”

. . .

As you got dressed the next morning, you wondered how your first day of flying would go. But, before you could wonder further, the phone rang. You picked it up.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hi Anon! It's Spitfire. I looked up your number in the phone book. How's your head?” Spitfire asked.

“Oh, it's better. Pain isn't AS noticable.” you said, chuckling.

“I'm glad to hear it. Listen, can you give me a ride to school today, my car hasn't been fixed yet.” she said. You could hardly believe your luck. There was a beautiful girl on the other end of the phone line, asking you for a ride to school!

“Yeah! Yeah, I can do that. What time to you need me over?” you asked.

“Is half an hour okay? I'd like to get to school a little early to take a look at the planes we'll be using today.” she said.

“Half an hour is fine! I'll be there.” you say.

“Thank you so much Anon! I'm so glad I met you!” Spitfire said, and then she hung up. You put your phone down, and thought about what she had just said. I'm so glad I met you! The sentence put a smile on your face. You finished getting dressed, and packed your bags for school.

. . .

As you squealed around the corner to Spitfire's street, you immediately spotted her house. As your Charger rumbled into the driveway, she stepped out the front door. It was all you could do not to let your jaw drop at the outfit she was wearing. A white sleeveless shirt, with a beautiful light blue skirt, accented with yellow lightning bolt lines. But your eyes were drawn below her skirt, to her long, shapely legs. You bit your lip so hard, it threatened to start bleeding. Spitfire happily bounced over to the passenger side of your car, and opened the door.

“Hi Anon! Thanks again for giving me a ride! I don't know how I can repay you. A thought entered your head, but you forced it out of your imagination.

“It's no trouble!” you protest, shifting your car in gear. Spitfire put her hand on your arm, and gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you Anon. You're so sweet. Are you single?” she asked. You missed a shift, grinding the transmission loudly.

“S-single?” you asked, glancing at Spitfire. She was watching you with her endless brown eyes. You ran a hand through your hair.

“Y-yeah, I'm single. Why?” you asked. Spitfire cleared her throat.

“No reason. Just... wondering. I dare say I'm surprised that someone as nice as you doesn't have somebody special.” she said, looking out the passenger window. There was silence in the car for the next few minutes, but to you, it was deafening.

“Hey Spitfire?” you try to ask casually. She looks at you.

“Hmm?” she asks. You clear your throat as you come to a stop light.

“A-are you... single?” you ask. Spitfire tries to hide a smile.

“I am. Why do you ask?” she inquires. You can feel your face turning red.

“Just... getting to know you.” you mumble. Spitfire sighs, but says nothing. The light turns green, and you finish your trip to school in silence.

. . .

As you and Spitfire walk into the Military Academy, you spot Mr. Hermon. You separate from Spitfire, and approach your teacher.

“Hey Mr. Hermon!” you call.

“Yes Anon? What can I do for you?” Mr. Hermon asks.

“I'm not so sure it would be a good idea for me to fly today. I got a huge bang on the head yesterday.” you say, gesturing to your head. Mr. Hermon frowned.

“I see. I would agree with you there Anon, it would be dangerous for someone with a head injury to fly, but you and I both know Spitfire isn't in this to be a pilot. She's co-pilot and navigator material.” he said. You scowl.

“I think she has potential to be a pilot. After all, a co-pilot needs to be able to fly a plane as well.” you say. Mr. Hermon thought.

“I'll give you that. Tell you what. She flies today, with your guidance. But, if worse comes to worse, you'll have to take over.” he says.

“Yes sir.” you said, then continue on your way.

You meet Spitfire in the Corsair hanger, where there are three Corsair's being prepped for flight. Your eyes are drawn to the black Corsair in the far left of the hanger. It has a three blade propeller, a menacing black paint job, and an engine that looked almost brand new. You walked over to Spitfire, who was admiring one of the other planes.

“Uh, Spitfire?” She spins around to face you.

“Oh, hi Anon! I was just looking at this plane. Can't imagine what it it will be like to fly this.

“Actually, we'll be flying that one.” you say, guiding her gaze to the black Corsair. You could feel the fear in her.

“That!? I've heard rumors about that plane. It's the hardest one to fly, and almost anyone who is assigned to it doesn't pass the class!” she said, looking at you frightfully. You smile.

“Rumors are rumors Spitfire, don't worry. It is true that it's the most powerful, and the hardest to handle, but Mr. Hermon assigned us to that plane because he thinks we can handle it.” you say confidently. Spitfire relaxes slightly. “One more thing. Umm... because of my head injury, Mr. Hermon thinks it best if... you fly the plane today.” Spitfire laughed.

“Me fly the plane. That's a good one.” she said. When you failed to laugh with her, she stopped smiling. “Anon, I can't fly a plane! I didn't come here for that!” she shouted.

“It's only for today, and I'll be guiding you the entire time. It will be okay.” you assured her. Spitfire bit her lip.

“These planes go well over four hundred miles per hour, and having two thousand horsepower in your control isn't exactly nice to think about.” she said, running her hand along the wing of one of the Corsairs.

“It will be alright, Spiffy. We won't be flying that fast, at least not on the first day. I'll help you. I promise.” you say. Spitfire, looked at you, trust in her eyes.

“Alright.” In the distance, you could hear the rest of your classmates entering the hanger.

“Alright! Anon, Spitfire, and I will pull the planes out of the hanger with the trucks! The rest of you, get acquainted with your fighters!” Mr. Hermon said. You and Spitfire followed him to another corner of the hanger, were three towing trucks. You start your trucks engine, and pull it in front of your plane. “Alright, the rest of you, hook up the planes to the trucks!” Mr. Hermon said, as he and Spitfire pulled their trucks into position.

After about a half an hour, the three retired fighters were on the side runway, being prepped for flight. You were working on airing up the tires and lubricating the landing gear, and Spitfire was inside the cockpit, trying to get more acquainted with the controls. Once you finished, Mr. Hermon gave the order to start the engines.

“Alright, the pilot of each plane, get in the cockpit, co-pilots, get ready to push the propeller!” he said. You took your position in front of the plane, and rubbed your hands together. Once Mr. Hermon saw that everyone was in position, he gave the order. “Start engines!” he shouted. You gripped the propeller blade with both of your hands, and said the word.

“Contact!” Spitfire replied the same, then you pulled the propeller with all your might. The blades spun a few times, then the engine spluttered to a stop.

“Remember, these engines haven't run in a few years! They'll take a couple tries.” he said. You gave Spitfire the word, and pulled again. The propeller spun around slowly, then the engine caught, and roared to life in a plume of smoke and oil spray. The noise was deafening. You quickly went around behind the wing, and climbed up, and into the cockpit. The glass bubble canopy slide shut after you got in.

After letting the engines warm up for a few minutes, the order was given to taxi to the runway. You had to shout a little so Spitfire could hear you.

“Okay Spitfire, move that lever up ten percent, and hold the wheel.” you said, pointing to the throttle lever. She did, and after a moment, your Corsair slowly started moving forward.

“Good! Now once we clear the side runway, steer left into the middle of the main runway!” you shouted over the noise of the engine. Spitfire did as you were told, and within minutes, your plane was idling in place in the center of the runway, ready for flight.

“Okay! This is a test of everyone’s radio headsets. Can everybody hear me?” Mr. Hermon asked over the radio. You signaled that you could hear him, and once everyone else did, Mr. Hermon gave the order for take off.

You gently took Spitfire’s hand, and guided it to the throttle.

“Gently now, ease the throttle up to eighty percent!” you said. Spitfire nodded, and pushed the lever forward. The plane moved forward, quickening it’s pace.

“Alright, now move the throttle to full!” you said. Spitfire pushed the throttle as far as it would go, and the engine roared at full speed. After a moment, as your plane rocketed down the concrete strip, the tail of the plane rose off the ground. “Alright, we have take-off speed! Pull the wheel towards you!” you said. Spitfire pulled the wheel towards her quickly. The tail of the plane quickly dropped, and smashed into the ground. “Too fast! Try it again, a little slower!” you encouraged. Spitfire smiled at your encouragement, and pulled the wheel towards her again, but slower. The plane gently angled itself up, and before you knew, you were in the air!

“Okay, we’re in the air! Now we need to pull up the landing gear! Press the button there!” you said, gesturing to a blue button. Spitfire pressed it, and the plane began to shake! The landing gear was pulled inside the plane, and the shaking stopped.

“Wow! It got so much smoother!” Spitfire said. You nodded.

“Less wind resistance. Makes the plane more aerodynamic overall!” you explained. Spitfire nodded.

After a few hours of training exercises, the radio crackled to life.

“Alright students, that was a good session, but that’s enough for today. You’re all a few miles out, so start to head back, and land on runway three. Then, taxi over to the hangers were you’ll refuel your planes.” Mr. Hermon said. You guided Spitfire in the right direction, and let her fly.

Just as you were about to lean back and relax, there was a god-awful noise, and smoke began billowing everywhere, inside, and outside the plane.

“What happened?!” Spitfire screamed. You frantically looked at all the dials, checking to see what was wrong. Nothing looked out of order.

“I don’t know!” you said, coughing through all the smoke in the cockpit. “Here, get behind me!” you ordered. Spitfire moved herself into the Co-Pilot seat, and you took the controls. You tried steering the plane, but had no response from the plane. You tried adjusting the engine speed, and that did nothing but stall the engine completely.

“Spitfire, there’s a parachute behind your seat! Grab it!” you ordered. Spitfire did as she was told. You tried to restart the engine multiple times, but it wasn’t starting. “I’m opening the cockpit! We’re going to have to bail out!” you shouted as the plane started to nose-dive. You hit the cockpit button, and after doing a manual over ride, the cockpit slid open. The wind noise was deafening! You looked behind your seat. No parachute.

“Go! Jump! Once you clear the plane, pull the cord to open the chute!!” you said, still fussing with the controls.

“But what about you?! You don’t have a chute!” Spitfire said, looking at you with tears in her eyes.

“There’s no time! Jump! Now!!” you ordered, pushing her towards the open cockpit. Spitfire stopped, and looked at you. “GO!” you shouted. Spitfire jumped, and you turned back the the controls.

(Spitfire’s POV) Jumping out of the plane, I pulled the chute, and looked back. The black Corsair was spiraling towards the ground at incredible speed. “Come on Anon! Find a chute, or something!” I said aloud.

I can’t describe what happened next. I hate to remember it, but I do. I watched Anon’s plane smash into the ground at a good couple hundred miles an hour. A fiery inferno exploded on impact, so large, I could feel the heat. “ANOOOON!!!!” I cried.

Author's Note

Short little story I decided to write after a dream I had while I was asleep. As I said, right now, this does not contain any clop. BUT, if people want it, I'll add a clop addition to the end of the story. If you'd like the addition, feel free to ask.

The Aftermath

(Anon’s POV)

I opened my eye’s slowly. The pain I was feeling was almost unreal. I looked over to my side, and saw a figure. I opened my mouth and tried to speak, but almost nothing came out.

“Sp...Spit” I rasped. Spitfire looked at you, and gasped. As your vision cleared, you could see her face was streaked with tears.

“Anon!” she said. Before you could react, Spitfire was embracing you in a bone crushing hug.

“Ow. Ow!” you exclaimed. Spitfire quickly let go of you.

“Oh, sorry! Sorry!” Spitfire started crying all over again. I groaned, and tried to lift my left arm. Nothing happened. I looked over to where my left arm was. Check that. Where it should have been.

“What...” you looked around frantically. Spitfire swallowed.

“They tell me you jumped from the plane just before it crashed. They said you wouldn’t have survived otherwise. But...” Spitfire didn’t finish her sentence.

“Spitfire, did they amputate my arm?” you asked fearfully. Spitfire nodded, slowly. You closed your eyes and sighed.

“Anon, what in the hell were you thinking!?” Spitfire said suddenly. You opened your eyes and looked at her.

“What?” you asked.

“That one parachute could have taken both of us. You could have gone with me!” Spitfire said. You smiled, and put your right hand on her shoulder.

“Not safely. That parachute was designed for one person. If I had gone with you, I would have been jeopardizing both of our lives. I care about you Spiffy. I can’t let anything bad happen to you.” you said, wincing in pain. Spitfire’s eyes teared up again.

“Oh Anon.” she said, leaning forward. You weren’t sure what she was doing, but you quickly found out. Spitfire put her face just inches from yours, and you closed the gap. Your lips met hers, and you enjoyed each other’s embrace. You put your arm around her, and pulled her closer. When you parted, Spitfire was smiling.

“Spitfire, the day I saw you, you remember. When I was blocking the front door of the school. I knew, I wanted to be your friend. But now, after all this, I want… ah!” you groaned as a sear of pain shot through your body. “I...I want to...” Spitfire cut you off. She kissed you again.

“I’d love that.” she whispered in your ear.

A few days later, the doctors released you from the hospital, and Spitfire insisted that you stay with her. You accepted.

You were sitting on the couch watching TV, and you heard a noise behind you. You turned, and gasped. Spitfire was standing in the doorway, wearing a very revealing nightgown.

“Whoa.” you said. Spitfire beckoned you towards her. Like a zombie, you obeyed. You walked over to her, and put your arm around her. She engaged you in a make out session, and you gladly welcomed it.

“Tell you what, why don’t we take this to the bedroom...” Spitfire cooed in your ear. You smiled.

“I’ll follow you!” you said. You excitedly followed Spitfire into her bedroom, and closed the door behind you.

Author's Note

If anyone wants a clop addition for this chapter, tell me, and I'll add it!