#Co-Pilot Buddy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beatificwrites · 1 year

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—CASUALTY

pairing: din djarin x transmasc!reader

a/n: my apologies for such a late upload! i’ve been tired ;( also realized i made this way longer than it had to be, but oh well! i tried to take my own spin on the request!

REQUESTED BY @rottedmolarx

content: sci-fi related violence, injury, mild cursing

word count: 2.2k

premise: you and din stumble into some trouble on a bounty hunt and you get seriously hurt near the chest area. din needs to help patch you up, but he has yet to find out whatever it is that you’re hiding.

Din had been out since morning returning a favor to a friend who had helped you guys out once. You knew the work involved capturing a creature of some kind and the effort would be long and strenuous.

It was dark out and you waited patiently in front of the opening with Grogu in your embrace.

The sound of the crest’s doors opening made the young one coo in your arms. He stretched his little arms out, signaling for you to put him down; someone was excited to see their father.

You smiled and carefully placed the little one down before Din came through the opening. Almost immediately, Grogu was at his feet.

“Nice to see you too, buddy.” he chuckled, tiredly through the modulator.

At once, he picked him up and you watched the adorable father and son moment.

You found their relationship to be the absolute cutest! Din was not related to the young one in any way, however that didn’t stop him from traveling and escaping to the ends of the galaxy just to protect him.

In the time that you’ve spent with Grogu, you’ve grown to feel the exact same way.

Bounty hunting for a living while also having to take care of a small child together had caused tensions to rise between the two of you. The odd family dynamic had made them bound to happen.

You would catch him stealing glances at you and even finding ways to brush up against you or put his hands on you. For instance, you passing him tools and him grabbing them from your hands and letting his fingers linger for a split second before moving on.

It wasn’t too much out of the ordinary for you to ever question, but you liked his touch.

You would stare too, though you never noticed he could see you.

You had even grown close enough for him to reveal his real name. It made you feel guilty for hiding a part of yourself, but you knew everything had to be done at its own pace.

Your eyes were laid on the mandalorian since the day you two met, but you kept to yourself. You two just completed jobs together, nothing more.

You couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him anyhow. His prowess, his strength, his monotone yet charming voice, his surprisingly humorous personality, his…quite literally everything had you thinking about him nonstop.

Not only did you admire him in those ways, but you also wished you could be a bit like him. You wished you could possess the same amount of coolness he carried.

Those two thoughts were meant to stay hidden though. You shook your head slightly as to shake away the feelings and not get caught awkwardly, staring at Din.

He looked up through his helmet and nodded as a way of greeting you. You gave him a soft smile and he carried the child to the cockpit before taking a seat in his chair. Grogu moved onto his lap, cooed again, then snuggled ever so gently into his armor. You wondered how the small one could find the beskar so comfortable.

“Got us another bounty. Hoth. This one covers weeks worth of fuel and food. You up for it?” the mandalorian asked as he turned to face the monitors and look up said bounty.

The bright, luminous screen appeared suddenly over the control panel.

You sat in the co-pilot seat and closely analyzed the bounty. She was not of human race and appeared to be of some alien species you’ve never seen before; and you’ve seen a lot.

You examined her stats and noticed there was no reason given as to why she was wanted. You figured she was affiliated with some sith lord or something.

“Yeah, what do you say we head out tomorrow?“ you asked, turning to face him.

“Alright, first thing in the morning.” he sighed as he agreed.

“You should definitely get some rest first. You’ve had a long day.” you noticed how tired he looked, even through the beskar.

“Can you really tell?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh, please. Your two sighs away from passing out.” you joked, but you both knew it was true.

“Well, you had to watch over Grogu all day. I’m sure you’re tired. Someone has to get us to Hoth.” he countered.

“Din, I may be a little tired, but I don’t mind getting us there. Like I said, you need to get some rest.” you insisted.

“Do you even know how to get us to hyperspace?” he asked in an unsure tone.

“Yes, I can manage just fine. Now go to sleep.” you ordered.

He eyed you once more, “are you sure?”

“How hard can it be?” you shrugged as you shooed him out of his seat.

Din had no choice, but to obey and he put the child to sleep before falling soundly asleep in his small cot.

༶•┈┈୨୧┈┈•༶

Only hours later, Din was awakened by Grogu’s loud cries and the crest's violent, turbulent shakes.

He immediately got out of the cot and reached for the child. He frantically searched for you before remembering you were still flying the ship.

“What’s going on?!” he shouted over the blaring alarms.

“These starcruisers started blasting us out of nowhere! I’ve been fighting them off and trying to get us to Hoth! It's not that far now!" you shouted back.

Din pressed a few buttons on the control panel, then flipped a switch that finally ended the noisy alarms.

You were struggling to keep the cruisers off and fly at the same time. Din quickly placed the child on the co-pilot seat, then took control of the huge blaster and aimed steadily as the cruisers flew in front.

"Just get us there! I got these two!" he yelled, then fired a few shots to the back of the first cruiser.

You tried to focus amidst the chaos, but with every blast the crest took, the more your worry grew and the more your concentration broke.

"We're taking too many hits!" you shouted hectically.

"We're fine!" he shouted back, not wanting to face the fact that the crest was most definitely done for.

Lucky enough, you were nearing Hoth's exosphere and Din managed to fire one final blast to the first cruiser's pilot.

The second pilot, however, remained hovering nearby and followed the crest as you dove headfirst into the planet.

The immense turbulence you faced now was nothing compared to the potent shakes you guys were experiencing just a few moments prior. You were sure you were going to crash. The crest was in horrible condition.

You tried to steer as much as you could, but to no avail. You simply let go and mindlessly, reached for Grogu and Din, so you could tightly embrace them while bracing for impact.

The crest was subjected to a harsh landing on Hoth and you three flew out of your seats.

You fell to the ground from the impact to your head and though in much pain, you smiled in relief once you noticed the child was not hurt; you held onto him pretty tight.

Din was groaning in pain beside you. He turned his head to make sure you both were okay.

"You alright?" he asked, weakly.

"Sort of, just hit my head pretty hard." you managed to respond.

He took a pause before stating, "That pilot followed us here. Bet he crashed too and is lurking around."

"I'll go." you sighed as you tried to get up, but Din placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Uh-ughn, you stay here." Din was quick to oppose.

For some odd reason, he couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to protect you even though you had put yourself in danger many times before.

"You don't look so hot, either." you scoffed, then slowly got up anyway.

Grogu cooed at your feet, and you pet his head before helping Din stand.

"Let's both get him." he said, and you couldn't agree more.

You left Grogu inside, so he wouldn't have to face the cold weather.

You gathered all the muscle strength you could while Din walked as if he felt no pain at all.

Freezing bits of snow hit your face as you two trudged through the worsening blizzard.

It was difficult to see anything; only close obstacles were in view.

Din led the way and you followed close behind, scanning for a wrecked starcruiser.

You had begun to question whether or not the pilot had really survived the fall or not. You and Din had trudged for about 3 miles already.

Suddenly, a round of blasts were fired and you took a solid hit straight to the chest. You fell onto the thick snow and Din yelled for you.

You winced in immense pain. You tried to feel for the burning flesh, but you felt almost paralyzed.

The mandalorian turned his back and surged forward before adeptly unloading his blaster and firing at the cruiser.

He heard a grunt, then trudged forward a bit to see if he was down.

“You..will never get away with the child.” the pilot breathed out.

“I already have.” Din simply said as he fired a final blow.

At once, he picked you up and trudged as fast as he could back to the crest. He was worried sick.

Your eyes were shutting as he carried you back.

He placed you on the floor of the cockpit and went to go grab the bacta spray. He came back and was ready to take off your cloak and top.

Your eyes widened before blurting out, “I’m good! I’ll apply the spray myself, Din!”

He was confused. You were injured and you always allowed him to treat you.

“You’re hurt. Let me do it.” he proceeded to lift your undershirt, but you moved his hand away.

“It’s small wound, it barely even grazed me! Now let me do it.” you excused yourself.

“It’s gonna be hard to wrap the wound yourself.” he brought up.

Shit. This is it. you thought. There’s no other way.

“Fine.” you sighed as you gave up.

Din took off your cloak first, then slowly removed your undershirt. You watched as he noticed your binder, but to your surprise he didn’t comment.

He understood now and wanted to respect your privacy.

“Here. Apply the bacta yourself, then turn around so I can patch you up.” he finally says and hands you the bacta bottle.

Your brows furrowed as you took the spray reluctantly.

“You’re not going to question me? After all this time you’ve known me?” you asked, stunned.

“You don’t have to explain to me anything if you don’t want to.” he answered, reassuringly.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it?” he asked with furrowed brows, though you could not see.

You remained silent and slowly turned to apply the bacta yourself.

“Could you help me remove it?.”

Din complied and took off your binder for you. His hands were gloved yet his touch was still soft.

You sprayed the bacta onto your fingers and lightly massaged it on the wound. You winced as you did so.

Afterwards, Din wrapped the gauze gently around your chest and you whispered, “thank you.”

You turned back around and put your cloak on once again.

You noticed he was staring, so you spoke again, “I was not born a man and I’m sorry for not being truthful.”

Din titled his head to the side before saying, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I admire you even more for your bravery.”

You looked up at him and smiled.

“The mandalorian admires me?” you jokingly asked.

“Yes, he does.” he chuckled. “Unfortunately, he admires a strong fighter who for some reason can’t properly fly a ship.”

You rolled your eyes at him and exclaimed, “Dank ferrik, it was those cruisers’ fault, not mine!”

He let out a chuckle again and you laughed too.

“So, you admire me?”

“Your nature and determination are what I like the most.” he complimented you.

He moved from kneeling to sitting beside you on the floor.

“Without your company, I don’t know how I would’ve survived these past few months.” he confessed.

“But, you’re doing most of the saving.” you said, puzzled.

“You and Grogu saved me from a life of loneliness, c'yarika."

You smiled at the nickname, though you had no idea what it meant.

"I'm assuming that's mand'oa? What does it mean?" you asked.

"It means...darling." he replied, and your heart swelled.

"I can't believe you just called me that. Say it again." you giggled.

"C'yarika?" he wondered.

"Hmm, I like it." you admitted.

You looked into his visor for a second before placing your hand on the side of his helmet. The beskar felt cold in your grasp.

"Thank you for accepting me the way I am." you began.

"I wasn't sure if I could disclose this part of myself. The galaxy can be a cruel place."

"I see you no different than before. I like you just as you are." he confessed once more.

Before you knew it, Din had pressed his helmet so he could lift it up a bit. Only the lower half of his face could be seen.

You moved your hand and placed it on his jaw. You leaned carefully to kiss his rough lips.

He moved in and you both took in the blissful moment as your lips connected.

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princessfroslass · 9 days

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Do you think that Angel ever defended his most vulnerable co-starts from Val? obviously not in episode 6 fashion but more placating, more "daddy they didn't mean to 🥺🥺 " or just serve as a distraction so Val can forget whatever the hell he was so pissed about.

Because of his protective nature- particularly anything regarding Valentino, and ep4 showcased how he has this..... placating nature thanks to the abuse. Like he would directly apologize for what Charlie did (before getting hit) because he didn't want HER to get hurt- regardless of the fact she is a tenfold more powerful than Val and could easily destroy him and even at the club when he is on his most rebellious stance- he is doing it to protect Nifty. He said so "I might have to put up with your bullshit but you ain't messing with my friends."

And I think it's interesting because (and tragic) because even outside of Valentino, who he might see as his responsibility (notice how everytime Charlie made him mad he turned to glare at Angel? That is conditioning. It's indirectly saying "whatever wrong happens, it falls onto you) Angel is in fact really protective of those he cares about: Saving Pentious in episode 3, saving the eggboy in ep8, pushing Cherrie out of capture way in the Pilot, making sure Nifty wasn't fucking incinerated in episode 5, apparently taking the lead/iniciative in making sure the Hotel was protected in episode 7 (the group hug with him at the middle), his little stunt at the end of ep2 ready to blow Pentious's brains out for letting the Vees (ie Val and his terrible friends who he seems to know a lot about) into the Hotel, seeming to be the more distraught after Charlie with Pen's passing (a lot of these have the snake in some way now that I think about it lmao they were buddies :() and that all seems of be part of how true self- the one that was there before he died.

And Val, like the scumbag he is, exploits that.

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #tw: abuse

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badbatch-badfics · 3 days

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Tech x Male Mandalorian Reader; Kar'taylir Darasuum Gar

Characters: Mainly Tech, little snippets of the rest of the Batch.

Relationship: All platonic buddies, except for Tech near the end.

POV: 2nd (you/yours)

Pronouns: He/him

Species: Unmentioned, but you have a normal "human" head (so no horns, lukku, etc.)

Content: Angst to fluff, get really hurt (literally) and then comfort. You're an idiot who can't confess unless their life depends on it.

Warnings: Description of injury and cleaning wounds(ish). Some throwing up blood ig. Cringe lol

Notes: Fem aligned and/or women can interact, but please be respectful. This is a MLM x reader fic. Don't be weird. Thanks. "Kar'taylir darasuum gar" means "love you" in Mando'a- I couldn't find the equivalent for "I."

Word count: 5,364

You sat in the co-pilot’s chair, arms crossed and leaning back. Tech sat in the pilot’s chair, tinkering with some self-made miniature droid. Everyone else was asleep, Echo in his hammock, Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair each in their respective bunks. The ship was decently quiet, except for Wrecker’s occasional snoring, which, honest to Kad Ha'rangir, sounded like a Venator class star-destroyer powering up. Contrasting the man’s tremendous snores, the hyper-drive produced a nice and constant low hum, with beeps sounding out every once in a while. Tech’s screws and wrenches would clang out, and the sound of sparks would startle you into a more awake state each time it occurred.

Although there was no way he could know, seeing as your helmet was facing directly out the view-port, you were staring from the corner of your eyes. Hard. The way he effortlessly moved his fingers across the droid, connecting and severing wires from point A to point B, or how the golden sparks would illuminate his face and reflect off his goggles, casting a beautiful glow that you simply couldn’t get enough of. Truthfully, you couldn’t have been more grateful for your helmet and culture, knowing full well he would have caught on to your… tendencies, and quick, if you didn’t wear it- bearing all your embarrassing expressions out to the world.

You knew it was bad to be feeling like this. They were in the middle of war, which was no time for romantic relationships. And, truthfully, you didn’t even know if Tech, or anyone else, liked you. For all you knew, they simply had high tolerance for annoyingly secretive men they were assigned to work with. You had always avoided questions about the culture you grew up with, obviously always avoided taking off your helmet, and hardly took off any of your armor- even when it came time to sleep. Which must have been unsettling for them, or anyone, really, you were sure. Someone who was highly skilled in fighting, but never took anything off, always electing to remain in the armor that was most certainly not a comfort to sleep in. And, clearly, the fact that, out of nowhere, the Republic had hired and assigned you to them. They had every reason not to trust you- or to, at the least, not like you.

And you had no clue what to do to lessen that mistrust. Telling them about your culture was out of the question- you couldn’t deal with the…issues revolving when, if at all, anyone would be close enough to take off your helmet. they might think they were close enough, but you didn’t. Or, even worse, you might think you were close enough, but they didn’t. And, Kriff, if they caught on to you hypothetically taking off your helmet more around Tech than the others, they would easily piece together your feelings.

But, hey, maybe you were wrong. Maybe they found you at least somewhat amusing, somewhat useful, somewhat not a nuisance. And maybe, just maybe, Tech would even feel the same way. Doubtful, but since when was love logical? A beep came through, pulling you out of the deep pits of overthinking and alerting Tech. He lifted up his head, temporarily setting down the project. Tracing his fingers over the wheel and control-panel. “We have almost arrived. Would you go and wake up everyone?”

You stood up, stretching your arms as far as they could go, audibly groaning. “Sure thing, boss.” You first walked to Echo, shaking him gently. He was an easy sleeper, after everything. Hunter could sleep well once he was in it, but otherwise, his enhanced senses made it difficult. Crosshair was easy enough, not incredibly difficult, but you wouldn’t wake him up by simply walking around either. Wrecker, on the other hand, slept like a rock. You found out within the first week of your stay that his brothers would simply punch Wrecker in the shoulder, hard, to wake him up. Hunter had explicitly granted you permission to do the same.

That being said, you wound up your arm before slugging Wrecker square in the shoulder, earning a startled grunt from him. Once he registered what was happening, he lopsidedly smiled and mumbled a good morning of sorts. After the four men were awake, you headed back to the cockpit, electing a chair further in the back so they could all sit closer- a common practice. Hunter gave the mission debrief- same old, same old. Just beat up a bunch of droids, and nothing special about this mission. Echo and Hunter had a smaller, but more advanced battalion of droids to defeat within the building, so they needed to go radio-silent. Crosshair and Wrecker would take a larger battalion, as would you and Tech. After everyone was 100% certain in their role, everyone split up.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kriff, this was not going well. Blaster fire everywhere, explosions left and right, and the only Batch member you could see was Tech, double-blasting his way through any droid he saw. You used a batch of whistling birds, each miniature missile hitting its mark. Not that the few dozen marks did much damage against the entire droid battalion circling you two. You reached for the pouch on your hip, which carried the multitude of bombs and droid poppers necessary for war. Much to your dismay, there was only one bomb left. And for better or worse, it was a giant bomb. It would be incredibly difficult to evade- for both you and the droids. It was designed with the intent of being far above the enemy- not 10 feet away from them. But this was your only chance- if you could pair the main explosion and send out half a dozen droid poppers while the rest of them were distracted- it would be a victory. And perhaps if you could run fast enough, dive, and get as many droids behind you to take the majority of the impact- perhaps you’d make it out relatively unscathed.

And, not that in a million light years would you ever admit it, the most important part- Tech would be safe if you pulled off this stunt. You’d be able to get rid of at least one third of the droids with the large bomb alone, and sending out droid poppers in every direction during that opening would eliminate, at minimum, three quarters of the remaining droids. All in all, Tech would have only a handful of clankers left, he would be safe, and the mission objective would be claimed as a victory. Might as well.

“Run south!” you shouted over the blaster fire, instructing Tech. For a split second he thought to question you, but decided against it. He knows what he’s doing, and there’s no time to object, he concluded. Tech sent a nod your way before running, still blasting his way through what was close. As soon as he was out of range, you pulled the bomb from the waist pouch. Maker, did you hope this will work. You stared at the bomb, hoping you would be shown mercy, as if the bomb was a sentient being capable of choosing who to blast and who to not. With a remorseful sigh, already having spent too long wondering and not doing, you reared your arm back and threw the ball as far as physically capable.

As soon as the sphere of mass destruction left your hand, you bolted- sending out droid poppers in different directions every few seconds, hoping to any god or higher being that they would take the majority of the impact, and not you.

Unfortunately, any and all higher beings seemed to be tastefully against you today. You felt the heat and force before you heard it. A stinging sensation sprung throughout your entire body, sending you crashing forward, groaning. Apparently, you were not far away enough, and there were not enough droids to take the majority of the impact. Kriff. There was an excruciating ringing in your ears, or head-? You weren’t sure, but it was loud and annoying as hell. The last droid popper rolled from your palm, effectively killing off the half-dozen clankers headed over.

Although it was primarily obscured by the horrendous ringing in your ears, you could pick up faint sounds of blaster fire and metallic bodies hitting the ground. You shakily got on your hands and knees, one arm clenched tightly over the stomach region, and lifted your head, groaning. Although it was incredibly difficult to make out in this delirious state, you saw Tech running towards you. He’s safe, was all you could think. The mission was a success and he was safe, what else could someone ask for? With that, there was no longer any reason to stay awake.

You promptly collapsed onto the cold ground, rolling over, hand still clutched. You were coughing up blood, which just fell back down to your helmet and mouth, casing your cheeks and lips. “Y/N!” Tech yelled, attempting to keep you awake and responsive- not his most successful attempts. You felt him lift your body upwards, examining the damage. A shattered off droid piece had pierced through your abdomen, front to back. Blood coated your armor, turning it from (color) to a dark ugly mess of browns and reds. His eyes trailed over you, ever worried. He and his brothers had never faced such an extreme injury, except for Wrecker’s large scar on his head.

“I need to take off your helmet. I can hear you coughing up blood,” Tech informed. You attempted to push him off, delirious of the extremity of the situation. You were not ready to cross that bridge yet. Tech felt bad, he did. Even though he couldn’t possibly understand why a culture would not allow someone to simply remove a helmet, he would respect it, and he would respect you. But in a situation like this, it truly didn’t matter. If your helmet didn’t come off, you'd drown in your own blood before dying of the shrapnel was even a possibility.

“That was not a request, it was me informing you of what I’m going to do.” You wanted to give him a smart-ass response, truly, but you couldn’t speak coherently, let alone think of one. Accepting defeat in this minor battle, your head lolled back into his palm, coughing once again. He placed his hand under your chin, just on the edge of the helmet, and carefully lifted. The helmet hissed as he pulled it off, and your eyes squinted harshly at the bright light, now surrounding you from all sides, not just the visor. This was not how you wanted him to see your face.

Tech grimaced. Clear from the blood and sweat caking your mouth and cheeks, you had already coughed up a large amount of blood, and he highly doubted it’d be stopping anytime soon. “Okay…I’m going to move you to that rock over there- you need to be more vertical than horizontal if I am to treat your injuries.” A mumble was the only response he got. Tech put his hand on your back, roping underneath your arm. Using his other arm to support your lower back, he lifted, and despite all his effort in being gentle, it didn’t do much. Even though the rock in question was only, at most, twenty feet away, it seemed like an impossible task.

With each step, despite Tech supporting the majority of your weight, it felt like another piece of droid shrapnel shooting though you. Everything became more fuzzy by the second, dizziness overcoming you. “We are almost there,” he said, observant of your worsening state. After what felt like an eternity, you had arrived at the large rock. He turned you around and gently placed you on the rock, blood coating his armor.

Reaching to his waist pockets, Tech pulled out a pair of tweezers, a large roll of bandages, and bacta-spray. “I will cut space around your chest plate and clothing. Do not move.” You groaned, looking up at the sun. Perhaps you shouldn’t have done the “throw a bomb and hope you outrun it to save someone else’s skin” plan. Now you’d need a new chest plate and under-armor clothing. Fantastic. Tech pulled out a new set of tools, all to cut the chest plate. Luckily, the hole was jagged and cracked, so finding a good place to further the diameter would not be incredibly difficult.

Tech carefully pulled out bits of the chest plate, making the hole larger by the second. Unfortunately, him cutting that close, despite his best efforts, still applied far more pressure than you would like on your wound. It was not a pleasant experience, to say the least.

“I am finished cutting around the front of your chest plate,” he said, breaking the tense silence.

“Okay…” you breathed out, voice shaky and dry. He looked at you with pity before quickly tearing through the cloth, all too close to the droid bit. He noticed your extreme uncomfort, face scrunched up, trying not to cry. He felt pity towards you, but there was no time for any of that. If he wasn’t quick and adequate, you could very well die. Tech’s point was emphasized by another fit of blood coming up, some blood dripping on his armor as your head came forward.

He grimaced, using his thumb in a feeble attempt to wipe off the new blood. “Can you lean forward while I cut open your back?” he asked, unsure whether or not it would be required to fully turn you around. “Mhm…I think I can manage,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper and hardly intelligible. You rocked forward, arms outstretched to hold up your weight. Tech carefully moved behind you before repeating the process.

Eventually, Tech deemed the cloth and armor to be far away enough from the droid. He would pull out the droid, then fully take off your armor and clothing, apply bacta-spray, and wrap you up. Once you were on the ship, he could dig out any excess sharpanel. Then everything would be fine. He concluded that the best way to get it out was to not let you know. He deduced that you were, more than likely, not thinking rationally- and even if you were injured, you were still heavily trained, and he didn’t want to risk you trying to push him off if there was a warning for what was to come. To be fair, doing it suddenly would surprise you, which wouldn’t be much better, but your reaction time was certainly delayed, so it was still the best option.

“Lean back.” You obliged, hitting the back of the rock and letting your head fall backwards. While you were still looking upwards, he gripped the droid piece with both hands. Pulling hard was most certainly not the best option, but he had already spent too much time clearing the space, and there was no equipment for performing the removal in a safe manner. You would have to deal with it.

Tech pulled on the droid, and he pulled hard. Your eyes went wide, and you lurched forward, hands grasping at the wound. Short, ragged breaths filled the sound of the field, paired with the metallic clattering of the droid being tossed aside. Tech cupped your face in his hands, looking into your eyes. If you weren’t in so much agony, you would’ve been a flustered, blubbering mess. “Hold still and do exactly as I tell you. I need to dig out the smaller shrapnel, but the bleeding must stop soon. There can be no distractions.”

At this point, you could hardly respond, choking on any words you attempted to form. Now that the droid was removed, Tech could slip your chest plate off. “Put your arms up and do not take them down until both your chest plate and clothing have been removed.” Vision blurry and shaky, you lifted your arms despite them feeling like a hundred pounds each. Quickly, Tech pulled up on your chest plate, immediately discarding it among the other debris in the field. Following immediately after, he lifted up your shirt, slightly more conscious of the injury since the cloth was brushing directly against it.

As soon as he finished discarding your shirt, your hands fell limp once again, and you collapsed onto the rock. Tech quickly doused the affected area with bacta-spray, not particularly caring if it got it more space than needed. He needed to be quick, and there would be more time later to fix everything. He positioned himself behind you, legs wrapped around to give you support as he cleaned the back, making sure to wipe off any large chunks of dirt or pieces of rock. After your back and front were successfully doused in bacta, he re-positioned himself and you.

He moved about two feet away from the rock, legs straddling your waist. He had turned you around, eyes meeting each other once more. Your arms were gripping his shoulders, shaking with every breath. Tech carefully reached around and grabbed the bandages, unfurling them. He started at your waistline, moving upwards with each layer of binding. He would carefully glance over your shoulder and angle himself to see your back to ensure it was all going smoothly- or, at least, as smooth as something like this could go. The bandages had finally reached above your wound, before reaching over your shoulder for extra support and coming back down for a double layer. Despite the wrappings having been on for less than ten minutes, the blood was already tainting the once white fabric.

“I am finished,” Tech spoke, finishing off the last layer and grabbing your waist to pull you closer. He carefully grabbed his comm to relay his position and the situation to the rest of the Batch. He knew it would have been useless to comm beforehand, as Hunter and Echo were radio-silent while Wrecker and Crosshair were dealing with a smaller squadron of droids. But now that you were safe- or as safe as possible considering everything- and the rest of the Batch had their objectives completed, he could call them.

“Hunter, I need a pickup at the valley in between the two ridges where the droid squadron was. Immediately- (Y/N) has been injured. I have applied bacta and bandages, but it is not adequate. We must get to proper medical care as quickly as possible.”

“Got it, Tech. We’re on our way, just hang on,” Hunter replied, voice glitchy and faded out through the comm. Tech pulled you closer, your head resting on his shoulder. He placed his hands on your infraspinatus, rubbing small circles in them repeatedly. The telltale humming of the Marauder approached, blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over the field. The ship turned to its side before touching down about ten feet away, ramp opening. Wrecker ran out, panic clearly written on his face. He slowed down as he approached you, face falling more by the second.

“Wrecker, be careful around his abdomen, that is where the implication occurred. Do not run or jostle (Y/N) too much, he can not sustain any more injuries than what he already has.” Wrecker nodded in understanding before gently picking you up, hands under your thighs. He placed your head in the crook of his neck, out of respect for you never taking off the helmet and hiding your face. Your arms were draped over his back, bouncing with each step he took, despite the effort to be more gentle.

With a tired groan, you lifted your head up, eyes peering over Wreckers shoulder to be met with Tech’s. He had stood up and taken off his helmet, the light gray armor tainted and stained with your blood. You felt the incline of the ramp as Wrecker entered the Marauder, and the sounds of scattered feet and clattering could be heard. Shortly after Wrecker had entered the ship, Tech followed suit, your helmet and chest plate in hand. “Tech, what’s the deal with (Y/N)? What do we need to do?”

“(Y/N) threw a bomb which effectively killed off the majority of the droid army, but was hit with debris in his escape. He was regurgitating blood and had a large piece of a droid lodged in his abdomen. I…have cleaned the wound, albeit quickly and not as efficiently as I would have hoped. Clearly, I have bandaged him and removed the primary source of implication, but did not have time to adequately search through for smaller pieces of shrapnel. We should not remove his bandages until we are on Kamino. Someone should be watching him for the duration of the trip until we arrive, and we should attempt to minimize his sleeping until he has proper medical care.”

As Tech explained the situation, Wrecker re-positioned you into a more “bridal style” carrying, before gently setting you down on his bed and slipping his arms out from underneath you, all while avoiding your face. Your head was propped up on Lula, and Wrecker draped a blanket over your body, the edge draping off the bunk. He stood still for a second, glancing around nervously. Tech came up behind him, placing a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder. “Go in the cock-pit and help with the course. I will stay here to ensure everything is alright. There is no need to worry. If I do require aid, I will request it.” Wrecker glanced past his shoulder at his brother, sending a short smile of thanks before hurrying off to the cock-pit. Tech carefully sat down on the edge of Wrecker’s bed, just beside your feet. The bed made a small creaking noise and dipped ever so slightly. Tech sighed, back slouching. He glanced once more at your form, eyebrows furrowed. You two would be having quite the serious conversation later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hunter walked up to the bunk, staring before finally saying something. “Tech- we’re coming into Kamino. Take the wheel and comm in (Y/N)’s situation. I’ll get him prepped and Wrecker will carry him till the medical team shows up.” Tech nodded in agreement and stood up, walking to the cock-pit. Hunter glanced down at you, avoiding your face. He had a few of his spare bandannas in hand, ready to wrap up the majority of your face out of respect. It wouldn’t be perfect by any means, but any face covering would be better than nothing for you, he reasoned. Trying his best not to look, Hunter lifted up your head and placed four bandannas on it- two on your forehead, and just one each for your nose bridge and chin. As soon as your face was covered, he re-angled himself to tie the knot behind your head.

After your face was covered as well as anyone would do while still minimizing the risk of further complications, he carefully pulled the blanket away and lifted you up, cautious of the injury. He stayed with you until Wrecker and Tech came, the ship having landed. “There should be medical personnel on their way. I requested that a droid be the one to attend to (Y/N)’s injuries, but whether or not they listened is… uncertain,” Tech said, glancing over at you, worry evident by the slight crease in his eyes and furrow of his eyebrows. Hunter was slightly surprised at his brother’s concern for your culture. There was no reason to explicitly request for a droid, but he did so nonetheless. Usually, Tech would not have cared for such things- so long as the objective was completed and no-one was severely harmed, what did it matter if some cultural lines were crossed?

Hunter’s thoughts were interrupted by Wrecker picking you up bridal style once again, head draped back and arms dangling. His loud stomps echoed through the metal corridor, and it was all Tech could focus on. Which had never happened before- just focusing on one thing and one thing alone. But here he was, watching Wrecker exit the Marauder, you in hand- unclear if you would survive, and the only thing he was aware of was the echoing of Wrecker’s footsteps, you disappearing along with them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tech waited anxiously outside the med-bay door, leg bouncing up and down. The halls were quiet and deserted, only a lone wandering Kaminaon or clone every dozen or so minutes. Tech didn’t know if he preferred the silence or the possibility of crowded and loud halls, people shoving past each other non-stop. He was fairly sure they were both equally terrible options. Hunter had stayed with him a while, but he needed to get back to the rest of the squad- Tech didn’t blame him. He held your helmet in his hands, looking over every detail- every mark, burn, dent, scratch, paint chip, design and patterns and colors- everything. Although, logically, he knew it was very likely that either you or one of his brothers, or himself, would die in this line of work, knowing about it didn’t quite reach the same levels as nearly experiencing it.

The doors slid open, AZ emerging. Tech immediately sat straight up, more alert than ever. Before he could even begin asking questions, AZ began speaking. “(Y/N) (L/N) will fully recover within about 8 rotations. He is no longer bleeding and all sharnale has been removed and the wound has been treated. He is to remain on bed-rest until I give the say so.” Tech didn’t even bother to respond, all he could do was practically jump into the room and land beside your bed. You looked up at him, trying your best to smile- he was not amused. In fact, Tech was at a loss for words. Tech was never at a loss for words.

Actually, scratch all of that. Tech had an abundance of words for you. That much was obvious by the way his face went from “soft and glad you were okay” to his signature “are you kriffing kidding me?” look with an extra splash of anger. Your smile immediately fell.

“What were you thinking- I mean, you decided to throw a bomb which you had no chance of outrunning and for what? That was the most illogical and poorly thought out plan I have ever seen, and I have seen some very stupid things.” It was clear he had more to say, but he figured he’d save it for another time. Tech glared at you for a second longer before pulling up a chair beside the bed.

He let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You…are intelligent enough to have realized the risks. Just explain why you took such… idiotic ones.”

Silence. “I…I figured that if… you could get out of range, that would be enough. I would throw the bomb and get far away enough to survive, taking out any more droids in the escape. Then, you’d be… fine. I mean, the odds weren’t exactly in our favor, Tech- we were losing that battle- hard. We’d probably both be dead if I hadn’t done what I did.” Tech glanced down, thinking over your words. As much as he hated to admit it- you were right. There may have been another way he would’ve come up with to save your hides, but at the moment- your actions did save them.

“I… am sorry I saw your face. Although I do not understand why a culture would prohibit someone from showing their face- I respect you, and so I do apologize. If it is any consolation, I requested droids only for the medical staff, and Hunter had wrapped up your face as much as he could. Nobody really saw your face- just small fragments of it- except for me, obviously.”

You were silent, bandaged and calloused hands wringing around each other. “It’s… it’s alright. In my Clan, you are allowed to take off your helmet with… certain people. Those you consider… close. You can take off the helmet around those types of people.” You glanced up, eyes just barely meeting. He gulped nervously. No-one outside of his brothers had ever considered him close- and if his hypothesis was right- this type of “close” you were describing was most certainly new- not the type of bond one shares with his brothers.

“Are you… implying that you have a romantic interest in me, (Y/N)?” Tech asked cautiously, as though each word represented him taking another step closer to the edge of a thousand-foot drop.

“Is that alright?” you asked tentatively, turning to properly face him, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Well… it is not standard military protocol to… intermingle.” Your gaze fell downwards, grimacing. So much for a confession.

Then he continued. “But we have never been ones to follow protocol.” Your mouth went slightly agape, and you looked back up at him. Your eyes met each other, and he smiled. He didn’t smile often. Tech reached out hesitantly and grabbed your hand, rubbing circles in it. You placed your free hand on his, like a weird romantic sandwich, and let your head fall back, closing your eyes in satisfaction.

“Y’know- if I knew all it would take to confess and know you reciprocated was to have a near-death experience, I would've done it way before.”

Tech jumped back slightly- “‘All it would take?’” he asked, mocking you. His eyes were wide in disbelief at your disregard for such an event. His face was absolutely golden, and you started laughing- evidently, far too much since within a few seconds you were clutching your side in pain. Tech now wore a mixture of his “I told you so” and “that was not amusing” faces, judging you heavily.

"Regardless, AZ informed me that you would need an 8-day bed rest. And as you do not contain your own proper sleeping area, you may share with me. This way I can closely monitor you at the same time. It will be greatly beneficial.”

You cocked your eyebrow, looking directly at him. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said so.”

“If you are to keep up this behavior in my sleeping quarters, I will not hesitate to kick you out- both figuratively and literally. Perhaps I’ll just make your “visiting time” as terrible as possible. I am not above such actions.” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes in a playful manner.

“Here- I made certain that I had kept your helmet. The chest plate was practically unsalvageable, but it is currently on the Marauder. Although you are… comfortable without it around me, it seems, I assumed you would want it for the walk back. Am I correct?”

“You're always correct, and you know that. Thank you, Tech.” You carefully slid the detailed helmet on your head, somewhat sad. Although it was clear that you would need to wear it in the halls and in front of his brothers, you still felt sad you two couldn’t enjoy more time, faces and secrets and emotions and everything exposed for the better. You let the brief moment of sadness wash over- it was better to be grateful. I mean, Tech reciprocated! You couldn’t have asked for anything better.

“Let me assist you in getting up- you are most certainly not fit to walk by yourself,” he said. You obliged, his arms coming up underneath your armpits and hauling you off the bed. You quickly found your grounding, and swung an arm around Tech’s shoulders. You two trudged down the long and barren halls of Kamino until reaching your designated barracks, pausing slightly at the door.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt such joy. You looked at Tech, dark visor meeting his yellow-orange tinted goggles. “Kar'taylir darasuum gar.” Tech knew what it meant. He didn’t need his fancy language visor to tell him what you said. You loved him and he loved you. And that’s all that really mattered. He smiled at you once more before the door opened, Wrecker immediately shouting in joy that you were safe and sound. Everything would be alright from here on out, war be damned.

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ficsfromthebigchair · 1 year

Text

Riding In Cars With Boys (18+)

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x F!Reader

(Smut, Mentions of Loss, Grief, and Death)

Word Count: 6.7k

Summary: “My only question is, can you drive as fast as you fly?” you try to bait him. He scoffs, “You wanna find out?”

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! this is my first dabble into writing Top Gun fan fic. I seriously couldn’t have done it without my two beta readers/editors/co-writers (you know who are). So I’d like to thank them profusely. I also wanted to add the pronunciation of a name of a character in this. Her name is “Sire” pronounced like “Sigh-Er.” I also created a playlist of songs mentioned in the fic and songs that also go with mood of this fic. If you enjoyed this, leave a like, reply, or reblog and if you have a request, my inbox is open! Thank you so much again!

Playlist Link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1kydfNGEE9aRg7WCSDorCM?si=cf88f9adc2964f30

It’s Friday evening at the Hard Deck dive bar. The busiest night of the week. The bar is usually slammed with barrages of naval officers swarming into the bar, looking to get wasted or lucky. You just hoped that one man, in particular, would show up.

5 pm on the dot, the blur of khaki uniforms rush through the door, wasting no time to get to the bar.

Penny, your boss and close family friend, hired you as a semi-permanent employee. You help her with rowdy nights like these, and you help her with the money and numbers aspect of the business. You’ve felt a sense of gratitude since she took you under her wing after your dad passed. She was one of your biggest supporters when you went off to college. She was some of the only family you have left. So it only made sense for you to help her out.

You polish a beer glass absentmindedly as you focus your attention on the commotion over at the door.

‘Maybe, just maybe….’ you prayed.

“Looking for someone?” a voice takes you out of your thoughts.

Leaning against the bar with one elbow and his hand languidly resting on his hip is one Lt. Jake Seresin, more notoriously known by his call sign, Hangman. The sly son of bitch.

“Hello Jake…” you greet him, redirecting your attention from the door to the navy man decked out in all khaki with the largest shit-eating grin on his face.

He laughs a cocky laugh.

“Awww, don’t sound so disappointed to see me…you’re my favorite bartender ya know…” he slaps his hand on the bar playfully.

“Don’t let Penny hear you say that…”

You roll your eyes at his actions; slinging the rag on your shoulder, you take a freshly polished beer glass to fill it up.

“Such a shame….” you finished filling up the glass, back turned to him.

You feel his piercing lustful blue eyes checking you out from behind.

“Right outfit, wrong pilot…” you say with your back turned to him

You turn to face him, lips forming a perfectly straight line, with one brow arching up.

‘Because you’re not my favorite airman…’ you place his beer in front of him with a smirk on your face.

He scoffs, sliding his beer toward him,

“You’re ice cold baby” he takes a sip, still making heavy eye contact with you.

You narrow your eyes at him and shake your head at him.

“Where your buddies at?” you remove the rag from your shoulder and buff the mahogany bar.

He takes a long swig of his drink, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You mean where’s Rooster?” He lifts the drink from his lips.

You look up at him slowly, still polishing the bar, trying not to garner a reaction.

You finally make eye contact, his lips growing into a devious smirk.“You know…”

He places his beer in front of him.“If it makes you feel better, He’s got it bad for you.” He leans in closer.

You stop polishing the bar, “Oh yeah?” you raise your brow up at him.

“Yeah…” he reciprocates.

“And you know what?” he eludes.

You raise your brow higher, nodding at him to elaborate.

“If he doesn’t have the balls to ask you out…I might just have to swoop in for the kill. They don’t call me Hangman for nothing.” He grins ear to ear.

You scoff at him, “In your dreams”

“Nah, I don’t dream, I do.” he stands up from the bar taking his glass with him.

From the corner of your eye, you see a woman also in uniform making her way toward Hangman. Her blue eyes are dead set on him. You can’t tell if she is glad to see him or angry. Knowing Hangman, it’s probably the latter.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you here, Jake” she narrows her eyes at him and crosses her arms over her chest.

‘Oh yeah, she’s mad,’ you look between the two.

He adverts his attention to her,

“Hello baby, you know everytime I see you just keep getting more gorgeous, right?” he attempts to flatter her.

She nods her head in disapproval at him.

“Pet names aren’t gonna get you outta this Jake.” she grins at him.

Hangman laughs a nervous laugh, looking back at you.

“Y/N, this is Sire…”

You look at her and then back to him.

‘That name sounds familiar,’ you pause.

Then you remember. One night, when you and rooster were talking, he mentioned there was some drama going on in the Dagger Squad. One of the members, callsign “Dirt,” or now that you’ve been properly introduced, Sire, and Jake have been having a rivalry. Rooster told you they are constantly trying to one-up each other in training any chance they get. If Hangman flew high, Sire would fly higher. If Sire flew fast, Hangman would fly faster. Rooster and the others had a bet going on what would happen. They were all in agreement that they, 1. Haven’t slept together yet. 2. Have almost slept together, but Hangman said something dumb and ruined it. Or 3, which is the most likely scenario; they have slept together (more than once) and are unwilling to quit the chase because it's too much fun for them.

Looking at the way he scans Sire up and down with a giant smirk on his face, you’re guessing option number three.

Sire steps closer to him until she’s in his personal space.

“I should punch you right here, right now, in front of everyone, so that they know that Lieutenant Jake Seresin is a punk bitch who can’t keep a woman to save his life?” she scorns him.

“Who can’t stop his dick from leading him around.” she continues, with pure venom in her tone.

“Imagine, if you thought with your brain for once. You’d better be a pilot and partner…” she finishes, tossing her sandy blonde/brown hair over her shoulder in victory.

Hangman is rendered speechless. He glances at you for backup.

“Hey, if you punch him…I didn’t see anything.” You explain to Sire, holding your hands up.

Hangman’s head snaps back to you. His face was ridden with betrayal.

He looks back down at Sire. They stare each other down. Sire stares at him up through her long lashes. Hangman’s face softens. She wins their silent staring contest.

Sighing, he places his hands on his hips, “Alright baby, let’s go talk”

Sire’s face lights up. She allows him to drape his arm over her shoulders. Before they make their way toward the pool table with the other pilots; Sire looks at you,

“It was nice meeting you Y/N. Rooster talks a lot about you. I can see why. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

You smile and wave at her back.

“I’ll see you later.” Hangman winks at you. Sire notices and elbows him in the stomach

“Ow!” you hear him mutter as they rejoin the other khakis surrounding the pool table.

…………………………………………………

The clock continues its treacherous passage of time.

“Where the hell is he?” you mutter, glaring at the clock.

You glance over at the door and then at the groups of officers at the pool table.

Nothing.

You sigh in defeat, running your hands through your hair.

“You okay honey?” Penny brushes past you, holding two shot glasses to serve at the other side of the bar.

You rest your hands on the bar's countertop, shaking your head.

“Yeah…”

Penny makes her way to your side, rubbing your shoulder for comfort.

“He’ll show up. I promise.” She turns away to fill up a shot glass of whiskey.

You turn toward her, backing and leaning against the bar.

“How is it that he's so easy to read but so difficult at the same time?” you ask.

Penny laughs, “Yeah, that’s Bradley for you. He’s been like that his whole life, according to Mav anyway.”She turns to face you, holding the shot glass out toward you.

“Take this, it’ll give you strength…”

You sigh, slamming down the shot and then handing the empty, cold glass toward her.

One of the officers makes his way to the jukebox. The music in the bar goes quiet for a few seconds. Not that anyone in the packed bar noticed. Only a Fool Would Say That by Steely Dan plays softly in the background.

Our world become one of salads and suns

Only a fool would say that

A boy with a plan, a natural man

“It’s just…” you speak up, “I’ve known him so long and he’s so wishy washy…like I mean he’s a great guy but damn, he needs to make up his mind…” Penny hears you out. She turns to face you with a smile forming on her face.

“I know we’ve had a thing for each other for so long but…” you continue to ramble. You stop when

Penny stares toward the entrance of the door. You notice her attention drifting.

“What?” you ask.

She gestures her head toward the door. Before you could turn around to see what she was gesturing towards, Penny spoke up.

“Hey Bradley…” she looks between you and him as he makes his way toward you at the bar.

“Hi Penny.” He stops short of the bar.

Penny holds in her smile, patting your shoulder gently, “Have fun…” she whispers as she leaves you and Bradley alone. You turn slowly to face him. He sits himself down on a barstool, looking directly at you through his dark hazel eyes. God, he was gorgeous, tonight especially. He forwent the Naval uniform and instead wore an open white Hawaiian shirt with a tank underneath, revealing his dog tags resting on the exposed part of his broad chest.

“Hi…” he greets you warmly.

“Hi…” you coo.

You rest your hands on the bar counter and lean into him slightly.

“I missed you…” he broke the silence.

You admire him for a moment before you answer. Taking notice of how his slight tan glistens in the soft evening California light or how his perfectly disheveled brownish, sandy blonde is well complemented by his well-groomed mustache.

You laugh.“Didn’t I just see you last week, fly boy?” you poked fun at him. He laughs at your nickname.

“Yeah, I did. But It was the longest week of my life…” He leans into you. You lean closer into him, resting your chest on your arms, bringing attention to your low-cut red tank top. He notices. You see him lick his bottom lip, trying to keep his cool.

“Well, now that you mentioned it, I did miss my favorite pilot. A lot.” you grin at him. His mustache curls up with his lips. You got him right where you want him.

“So…” he clears his throat, trying to keep his composure.“What time does your shift end?” He plays it cool. You push yourself off from the counter and turn to grab a glass. He eyes your every move, eager for an answer. You turn to face him, smiling at him.

“10…” you finally say.

Bradley glances over his shoulder at the clock. “7:42”, the arms are positioned. He sighs and drops his head in loss. Penny makes her way over.

“Hon, I got it covered for the rest of the night.” she interrupts. Bradley’s head snaps upward to Penny.

“You’re serious?” you ask her.

She nods her head.“Yeah, I could handle it before you were hired. I can definitely handle it now.” She cleans a part of the countertop. You look at her in surprise, opening and closing your mouth a couple of times.

“Go, I’ve got this!” she gestures her hands for you to go.

You threw down your rag and made your way to the end of the bar with Bradley following you.

Before you leave from behind the bar, Penny gently grasps your shoulder.

“Hey…” she smiles, “have fun…” she whispers and pats you on the back to go. You exit from behind the bar, and Bradley waits for you.

“So…” he claps his hands together.“You ready to get outta here?”

You make your way in front of him, holding your hand out.

“I thought you’d never ask, fly boy.” you smile wide. His face goes red. He blushes. That’s the Bradley, you know.

Bradley catches up, his hand still in yours. Before you could exit the bar, an all too familiar voice has you halted.

“Well, somebody’s getting lucky tonight…” Hangman grins wide, revealing his eerily perfect teeth.

Hangman and the other airman crowd around the entrance, snickering at his remark. He waltzes up to Bradley, sizing him up.

“Who would have thought, little rooster had it in him…” he sneers. Bradley puffs his chest out as a silent act of war.

‘Oh god, here they go…’ you mentally panicked.

You notice the two men sizing each other up.You let go of Bradley’s hand, and he looks down to notice you filling the space between him and Hangman.

“I don’t think you wanna go there, do you?” you ridicule him.

“I never lose and I don’t plan on startin’ to now…” he stares Bradley down. You laugh dryly at his attempt to rile Bradley up, which wasn’t hard to do.

“Listen here, As moving as this display of macho, high testosterone, big dick measuring contest that this is . You can’t afford to have your ass ripped into a new one TWICE in one night. Plus, we actually have places to be.” you grab Bradley’s hand, forcing him out of his staredown.

The airmen laugh at your joke. Sire, who is standing to his left, slaps his shoulder sarcastically.

“Yeah, by the time they're gone it’ll probably be the fourth or fifth time” she announces to the other airmen. Hangman is rendered silent.

“So, why don’t you take yourself and your group of boy scouts back to your silly little game of pool and let us go our way.” you jeer at him.

“Ooooooo…” the airmen let out. Hangman, still silent, nods his head, lips drawn in a straight line.

“Oh, what’s that? Got nothing to say? One might call that defeat, "Mr. I don’t lose.” you mocked.

The airman surrounding the encounter burst out into laughter. You and Bradley make your way toward the door, and you stop and turn to Hangman.

“See you later, Mr. Pearly Whites” You lead Bradley out of the bar.

As you exit the bar, Bradley flips Hangman the bird, causing the airman in the bar to laugh hysterically.

‘This was gonna be a good night…’ you thought to yourself.

……………………

Bradley’s bronco was parked out near the front of the Hard Deck. Still holding his hand, he leads you toward it. Following you to the passenger side, he opens the door for you.

“Always the gentleman you are Bradshaw.” You remark over your shoulder.

He laughs, rushing in front of the car to open the driver's door.

“Yeah, I got it from my dad.” He slides into the driver's seat.

You smile at his remark. You look over at him, fixing your hair slightly. He looks over at you, sliding his arm around the back of your seat.

“So, where we headed fly boy?” you look him in the eyes. He pauses, nodding his head as he thinks.

“I’ve got an idea, do you trust me?” he questions you.

You inspect his features, the way his hazel eyes search yours. How they soften and droop at the corners when he looks at you. You can’t help but smile.

“Always,” your smile grows.

He grins back at you, patting the steering wheel for a second.

“Let’s not waste any time then,” placing the key in the ignition.

He pulls out of the sandy, beachfront parking lot of the Hard Deck. Hangman, who returned to his game of pool with the other pilots, notices the headlights of the car shining temporarily through the window. Lifting up his pool cue, he directs the other airmen outside of the window.

“Well would you look at that.”

Coyote, one of the airmen, laughs.“Yeah, somebody’s getting lucky tonight, and it sure as hell ain’t you man.” he pats Hangman on the shoulder, returning to the pool table to play his turn.

He clenches his jaw, glancing back to Sire who watches Coyote intensely contemplate his shot at the pool table.

“Night’s still young Coyote. Anything could happen…” He winks at Sire, causing her to roll her eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, like my pool cue up your ass if you keep talking like that.”

Hangman scoffs at Sire’s comment, walking back over to the table.

“You wanna know what he has that I don’t?” he says, referring to Rooster. Coyote laughs.

“A mustache?”

“Common sense?” Sire butts in the conversation, leaning against the table and swinging back a beer.

Hangman shakes his head.

“No smartasses, history. They have history. You can’t split up the two people who have a long-standing history..it’s scientifically impossible.” he explains.

“That’s a weak excuse for having no game, man.” Coyote finishes his turn.

“Hah!” Sire shouts.

Hangman walks to the pool table, leaning over, lining up his shot with his pool cue.

“No game huh?” He shoots the ball, knocking all the balls out.

“Tough talk for someone who just lost a game of pool.” Hangman flashes him a grin.

—---------------------------------

There’s a reason why California is romanticized the way it is. There are millions of songs and poems dedicated to its’ oceans, beaches, people, and its’ natural beauty. But right now, the only beauty Rooster could focus on was you.

You and Bradley glided down the California coast; Suavacito by Malo plays softly on the radio.

I never met a girl like you in my life

The way that you hold me in the night

The way that you make things go right

You lean back into the passenger seat, taking in the warmth from the evening sunlight. Bradley’s hand gently entwined with yours on your thigh. You see him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. You let him continue a little longer and then look back at him. His eyes are finally back on the road. You smile at him and let out a small laugh and continue to appreciate the scenic highway.

He observes you again, revering you like a work of art. You catch him staring.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you joke.

He snickers, focusing back on the road.

“I don’t think a picture would do enough justice of how beautiful you look right now.”

You turn your head to fully look at him, blushing. He notices. “You’re too smooth for your own good, Bradshaw.” you beam at him.

He glances at you, “Is it working?” he grins.

You tap your finger on your chin jokingly, “Hm, maybe a little bit…”

“Only a little bit, huh? He chuckles. Suavacito, on the radio, slowly ends. Hush by Deep Purple begins to play.

“My only question is, can you drive as fast as you fly?” you try to bait him.

He scoffs, “You wanna find out?” he taunts, changing the gears of the bronco.

You reach over to the radio and turn the radio's volume all the way up.

Bradley reves up the car, propelling you both down the California coastal Highway 101. Your hair blows majestically in the wind as you laugh.

I got a certain little girl she's on my mind

No doubt about it she looks so fine

She's the best girl that I ever had

Sometimes she's gonna make me feel so bad

You unbuckle your seatbelt, which catches Bradley’s attention. He shoots you a confused as you begin to shift in your seat, hoisting yourself upwards toward the open sunroof of the car. Holding on tight, you tuck your arm over the window cherishing the moment. You look to the coast at the crashing of the glistening waves on the sandy shore. You look up towards the sunset. When you see the sky, you think of your dad, who was also a Top Gun graduate. He was taken from you and your mother far too early. You lean against the window in deep thought. Bradley notices your change in demeanor.

“You alright?” he shouts over the whirling wind.

You glance at him. “Never better,” you assure him.

The song continues as the sun sets in further. You slink back into your seat, covering your eyes with your hand and gazing at the sky.

“What’s it like up there?” you ask, nodding up to the sky.

Bradley turns the volume on the radio down.

“Up there?” he reiterates. Bradley’s grip on the wheel tightens as he tries to think of a response.

“It’s dangerous, exciting, and terrifying all at the same time, but” he starts. “I feel free when I’m up there. I feel closer to my dad. It’s just,” he begins to stutter. You reach out to his shoulder and caress his arm to comfort him, causing him to relax visibly.

“Sometime’s when I’m up in the sky, I can feel him there, trying to talk to me or give me some sign.” He laughs, “I know it sounds dumb, but when I start to miss him, I look up to the sky and see him there.” He finishes.

“Bradley, that’s beautiful. It’s not dumb at all.” you encourage him. “A pilot and a poet,” you joke, causing him to laugh.

“Your dad was one of us, too, right?” he asks.

You breathe in deep, “Yeah, he was. Callsign Grizzly. He was a wildman but a good pilot, father, and husband. Just like your dad. I wish I had more time with him, but fate had other plans, I guess. Time’s such a funny thing you take for granted. One minute he’s here, and the next minute, my mother and I are standing in front of his casket at his funeral.”

Bradley pulls off into an exit, the sign reading, “Black’s Beach.” Driving into the oceanfront parking lot, he parks and then takes the key out of the ignition. Still sitting in the driver's seat, he shifts himself toward you, arm resting behind your seat.

“I remember that feeling. The feeling of being confused. I remember my mom gripping my hand as they lowered his casket. It’s a moment I’ll never forget.” he admits. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to start our first official date out on a depressing note.” he apologizes. His sorrowful eyes are glued to the middle console as he reminisces momentarily. You reach your hand out to his cheek, forcing him to make eye contact with you.

“Bradley, you don’t need to apologize. It’s good to get these things off your chest. You can’t shelter them forever. I know how it feels. I know the feeling of trying to bury all of those emotions and hoping they go away. But you don’t ever have to be stronger than you really are. You don’t have to hide these feelings from me. I want to be in your life. Hell, we’ve known each other since we were kids, and I always knew I wanted to be around you.” you pause, taking his large hands and pulling them into your chest. “Let me in. I want to know what goes on in that deep beautiful mind that is the mind of Bradley Bradshaw.”

You study his face for his reaction. His eyes are relaxed, gazing off to your side. His amber eyes flick up to meet yours. A single tear cascades down his cheek. He pulls you in for a tight embrace, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. You gently cradle his head on your shoulder. He’s so close you're sure he can hear your heart race. You both were silent. Only the sounds of the seagulls and the soft waves crashing on the shore can be heard. Bradley finally pulls away.

“Better?” you soothe him.

“Much better,” he replies.

“Now,” you unbuckle your seatbelt, “where to, flyboy?” He reciprocates the same action.

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

Hand in hand, you and Bradley walk the sandy shore of Black’s Beach. The sun has almost completely gone out. The late evening kisses your forehead as Bradley tells you more about the drama in the dagger squad.

“I just can’t believe they weren't reprimanded for that! They did it in the barracks and we all heard it!” he laughs, and you laugh along with him.

Listening to him talk about his fellow airmen, you had a moment of realization. He likes being a part of a team. He feels a connection with them. But most significantly, he feels closer to his dad. He honors him by following in his footsteps.

He holds both of your hands in his and scours your face, trying to remember all the small things. He fixates on the crinkling by the corner of your eyes when you laugh. You have been his life for so long, but it’s only now, at this beach, as the sun goes down, that he really sees you for the first time. He feels something deep down. An aching, unfamiliar feeling. He swallows deeply as the feeling washes over him. Then like a ringing in his head, he places the feeling. It’s love.

His arms slide up your forearms as he closes the gap between you. He stares deeply into your eyes, silently asking permission. He leans in and kisses you deeply. His kiss isn't dominant or aggressive but gentle. He is trying to get a feel for you. So he takes things slowly. You wrap your arms around his broad neck. Bringing him down to you in an attempt to deepen the kiss. You both pull away from each other momentarily. You’re both breathless. His chest heaves as he stares you down, eyes full of longing. His eyes linger on your lips briefly and then flick up back to your eyes.

He pulls you in again for another kiss. His muscular arm snakes around your neck, pulling you up to him. You close your eyes and your lips meet for a kiss much more passionate than the last. Your mouths work together harmoniously while also still fighting for dominance. His free hand gropes at your hip, causing you to moan in his mouth. You feel his mustache curl up through his kiss, he grins. But you aren’t willing to give up the fight just yet. You drag his hand down from your hip to the curve of your ass and then quickly back to your hip. He pulls away from you, huffing with frustration.

“You’re killing me” he huffs.

Still breathless you stare him dead in the eyes, “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” you egg him on.

You stare at him expectantly.

“I need you, can I take you home?” he pleads.

You pull him in, resting your forehead against his

“I thought you’d never ask” you let out shakily.

—----------------------------

The ride back to your apartment is tortue. The silence is staggering, with tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a butcher knife. You didn’t dare to even glance at him. You know that if you locked eyes you’d never make it home.. It didn’t help that he kept inching his hand up your thigh; until he was teasing the hem of your shorts.

He finally pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and its game on. Hastily unbuckling his seatbelt, he exits the driver side slamming the car door behind him he rushes to your side, opening your door. By the time you’re unbuckled, you grab his hand leading him up to your apartment. Guiding him by the hand, walking up the stairs felt like an impossible task. When you finally reach your apartment you fumble with your keys.

‘Why the hell do I have so many keys!’ You mentally curse. Bradley leans against the wall next the door, sunglasses on, watching like a hawk as you struggle to find the right key. Finally, after succeeding, you unlock the door to your apartment and without hesitation Bradley is hot on your heels. Without breaking eye contact, he shuts the door behind him and he pulls you toward him by the hip.

In an instant, his mouth collides with yours in a desperate kiss. His large hands move from your hip to your torso, slowly slipping them under your shirt. You grab him by the collar of his Hawaiian shirt, shrugging it off of him revealing his white tank top underneath. You take your arms off him and raise your arms up as his hands begin to peel your tank off from the hem. Your red tank top joins his Hawaiian shirt on the floor. You break the kiss to catch your breath and both kick your shoes off. Bradley, taking the lead, picks you up from under your knees and carries you bridal style down the hallway of your apartment. After opening the bedroom door, gently lies you down on the bed, boxing you in with his arms. His eyes are blown out fully with lust. You prop yourself up to meet him, placing your hands on his face and kissing him. His hands slide up your thighs, stopping at the zipper of your jeans and slowly unzipping them until you clasp your hand on his wrist to stop him.

“Not so fast, you’re practically still fully clothed” you remove your hand from his wrist and nod your gesture your head to his tank top. “Take it off” your order. His brows shoot up and he grins. He slowly pulls off his tank top, revealing his perfectly sculpted body. Your eyes go wide at the sight, perfect tan with only his dog tags swaying on his chest. Your hands slide up his abdomen, feeling his abs. He grins widely as you inspect him. You feel warmth beginning to settle deep in your lower belly. His hands are back on the zipper of your shorts.

“No no no, take it all off. Lieutenant…” you command. Oh he definitely liked that. You can feel him from under his jeans. Not only is his physical stature huge, but from his growing erection from his pants you know for a fact he's big in more ways than one.

“Yes ma’am” he jokes, unzipping his jeans and letting them drop to the floor.

You finally allow him to take off your shorts, leaving you both in your undergarments. You lie back on the bed taking him with you. He admires you.

“You’re beautiful” he remarks.

“You’re not so bad yourself, fly boy” you leave a chaste kiss on his lips while you unclasp your bra and throw it to the floor.

Bradley drops his head to your neck kissing his way down, stopping at your jugular, kissing it intensely until a red mark forms. The build up too much. He’s not where you need him. Your core aches, you clench your thighs together as he slowly begins to kiss his way down the valley of your breast. You reach around his neck and try to pull him down where you need him. He pulls his lips away from you lower stomach and grins at you.

“Who’s the needy one now?”

You laugh, throwing you head back onto the bed. He makes his final descent and stops right at your entrance. You feel his hot breath against your slit through your underwear. He pauses. Your eyes snap to his as he stares at you for a reaction.

“You’re such a tease!” You squeal.

He temporarily lifts his head, “Oh I’m the tease huh? You were wearing the red tank top tonight and I’m thankful I had my sunglasses on because I couldn’t stop staring at them.”

“Pervert” you smile.

“Only for you” he winks.

He lowers his head back down near your thighs, spreading them. You feel his mustache tickle the smooth skin on your inner thighs. You moan softly at the sensation. He leverages himself further near your core, throwing your legs over his shoulder, pulling your underwear off. Without any warning his tongue is in you. Licking a stripe down your folds. You let out an exasperated moan as you try to squeeze your thighs to resist. His tongue finds his way to the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs, experimentally flicking it a few times with this tongue.

“Bradley…” you cry out.

He licks circles around your clit, your hands to grip his hair tightly in response. His pace becomes more domineering. You feel your throat clench as you grow nearer to the edge. You throw your head back deeper into the bed, shutting your eyes so tightly you see blue dots. He pops his mouth off you for a moment and goes back in, sucking on your clit. You cry out in intense pleasure, pushing you over the edge. Your back arches against the bed. The orgasim washes pulsates through your entire body making your throat gasp for breath. Once you start to come down, he pops off from you again.

He pulls himself back up to you, adjusting a piece of hair that sticks to your forehead. He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. You stroke the baby hairs on his neck and bring his head to your shoulder.

Your mouth begins to trail down his neck, before stopping just below his ear and sucking a mark into the skin.

Bradley lets out a breathy moan, and distracted from the small burst of pleasure, you take advantage and flip your positions so that you’re straddling his hips.

Your nails rake down his toned chest as you shift your hips and lean down to trail your tongue across the red marks you just left.

You can feel the hardness between your legs and grind back onto it.

“Y/N….” Bradley moans out his work hardy hands coming up to grasp your hips and squeeze them tightly in his grip.

Grasping onto his wrists you pry them off with a smirk, and push them back onto the bed over his head.

Leaning down you place a rough kiss against Bradley’s lips, and he cranes his neck up to meet you halfway.

Long gone is the gentle intimacy of the evening, now replaced with a fever of tongue and teeth.

You release your grasp on his wrists and reach down to tug on his dick which had been left neglected up to this point.

A punched out gasp leaves his lips as you begin to work over the head, his hips canting up with each stroke. Chanting your name between kisses, you feel the desire burning in the pit of your stomach burn brighter and harder.

“You look so pretty right now.” You whisper into Bradley’s ear before he seemingly has had enough and throws you onto your back, the bed bouncing slightly with the force that he used to switch positions.

“If I hadn’t been waiting for this moment for weeks I’d be teasing you all night darling,” he pants into your mouth, “but I can’t wait much longer to be inside of you.” Bradley leans down and reconnects your mouths.

You nod fevorently and reach over to your bedside table, blindly grappling around in the drawer before you feel the plastic of a condom package catch your fingers. Breaking the kiss, you tear open the packaging with your teeth and Bradley takes the condom from you to put on.

For a beat, the only sounds in the room are your labored breaths mixing together before Bradley moves between your thighs and begins to enter you.

Both of you let out breathy moans as he fills you up. Bradley’s hand makes his way up your face to cradle your cheek which you muzzle into.

“I’m so full.” You murmur into his lips, and grab into his shoulder when he begins to thrust.

Gentle at first, his hips meet yours in slow tandem, both of you grasping onto each other like the other is a lifeline.

“Faster.” You say, looking into Bradley’s lust filled eyes. He gives you smirk and leans down to peck your lips.

Grabbing your thighs he pulls you down the bed closer to him, or legs draped over his thighs.

The change in position hits something deep and sensitive within you, “Fuck!” You cry out.

Bradley stops and looks at you in concern, “Was that okay?” He asks, cupping your neck with both hands.

You nod enthusiastically, “Fuck yes and if you don’t start moving again I’m leaving you for Hangman.”

Bradley scoffs and thrusts in hard, pushing out an unwillingly moan from you.

“You wouldn’t dare baby.” He says, diving back to your lips with a new ferocity, his hip slamming into yours.

You grasp at his back, nails digging into his shoulders, and knowing that those marks will stay there for days to come and marking him as yours.

“Shit baby I’m going to cum.” Bradley cries out. You clench down and begin to feel your own orgasm wash over you, the sweat and need between your bodies urges you both on.

“Fuck!” You cry out, pulling Bradley close to your chest as you cum.

His hips continue to thrust into you for several more seconds, his face pressed against your neck leaving small and wet kisses against your skin.

“Shit baby,” Bradley begins to chuckle, his mustache tickling your now over sensitive skin.”

“Yeah..” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips as you catch your breath. You lean your head down and press your lips against Bradley’s forehead.

Slowly and with a groan, Bradley lifts himself off of you, and you miss the weight of your lover against you. “Let’s get us both into the shower darling, we’re a mess.”

You laugh and agree, pulling your self up off the bed and reach up to wrap you arms at wound Bradley. Your eyes connecting. A moment passes between the two of you that feels more intimate than the acts you just performed in bed.

Bradley smirks and leans down for a short kiss, your hands making their way into his curly and sex-mused hair.

“Round two in the shower?” He suggests between kisses.

You pull back and grin, stepping away from him and towards the bathroom door, naked as the day you were born.

“Come on Lieutenant, I’m waiting.” You say and walk through the door. You hear quick shuffling behind you and the door click shut behind the two of you.

It was going to be a long night.

———————-

The morning light peeks through the sheer curtains of the window, signifying the start of a new day.

You and Bradley are fast asleep, his strong arms curled around you in a protective embrace.

your solitude was abruptly interrupted when the ring of your phone began to blare. You pull yourself up, Bradley’s arm still hanging around you as you blindly feel for your phone. You sigh in defeat as you sit up, sheets dropping to your waist. Bradley stirs as he senses the change in your position.

You sigh,

“Hello?” You ask half asleep.

“Hi, Y/N.” Penny's cheerful voice greets you over the phone.

“Hi, is everything alright?” You look at the clock on your nightstand reading “7:03”

“It’s 7 in the morning on Saturday. The bar doesn’t open until 5. Are you okay?” You panic.

Bradley shifts over to your side blinking his eyes a few times trying desperately to wake himself up.

“Oh everythings fine!” You sense some slight insincerity to her tone.

“Who the fuck’s calling this early on a Saturday morning?” Bradley squints his eyes against the opposing sunlight.

“It’s Penny” you crane your head to look at him.

“Is Bradley there with you?” You can hear the smugness in her voice.

“Yes…” you exhale.

“You hear that Mav?” Penny asks on the other end of the line; To which Mav replies,

“Hah, see I told you they were gonna be more than fine. You owe me 20 bucks.”

#top gun #rooster top gun #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster smut #rooster x you #miles teller #bradley rooster x reader

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jovenshires · 3 months

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hi katie jovenshires im a big fan. if ur ok with sharing, what ships are in the botb au and what are the vibes for each 👀

thank you so much!! <3<3<3

hmm i've been thinking about this and i think i'm only deadset on spommy, ianthony, kolivia, and amangela as far as like. my canon goes. not sure what if any other ships im gonna include... ive gone back and forth with shaymien and shaynse too but not sure!!

but, i will say, for the most part the edits are mostly left up to interpretation so you can all decide whatever ships you want really!! (or if you don't want any ships at all that's cool too <3) like i've said to me the botbau is a little collaborative barbie world that we can all make whatever we want out of. like i told someone the other day - if you wanna write a fic or make an edit or something for this and it doesn't exactly line up with what i might write or think ab the au... PLEASE go for it. it is out there, public domain now, do with it what you will. and i will love and eat it up no matter what!!

as for the vibes in MY head, i will throw them under the cut so this post doesn't get too long KFNLKNKFNF

spommy: i've covered this a little before here so if you want the full version check that out but BASICALLY spommy is kind of rivals-to-friends-to-lovers except tommy has an Extremely one-sided beef and spencer just thinks he's cool and wants to be buds. eventually spencer wins him over and then... uh oh! love! once again skimmin some details that, if i ever Write A Fic for it, will be spoilers. but that’s the idea you know

ianthony: taking this directly from my dms to lilac but basically. ianthony botbau my beloveds....... to relearn how to co-pilot something with someone that should come so second-hand to you but you're both different people now but your feelings carry through anyway for who they were and are and will be........ yeah theyre everything to me. in a way it's a mirror to life/what actually happened to them with smosh (art imitates life) but the divorce era was even MORE famous because they're like a household name so it was a lot more pressure. idk yet if they were together beforehand and then broke up and now they're getting BACK together or if they had unresolved feelings they never dealt with and now they're struggling to reconcile them with their renewed friendship AND reunited band/the fame that comes from that... but either way they are Messy. im obsessed.

kolivia: kolivia in this au fascinates me because in my head keith is kind of known for being a player and fucking around but i think he stopped that Ages ago because. these two are basically dating. like they don't put a label on it and it's not public and i don't even know if THEY know how in love they are. but they live together. they sleep together "just to blow off steam" (come on now). they don't date other people. everyone can see it but them type beat. olivia's like "he's not my boyfriend" and then picks up the phone and is like "hi baby do you want chinese for dinner" NDLFKNANKSFLN like they are exclusive and they have deep feelings for each other but they are both so deeply in denial that they swear they're not dating. they have realistically been in a relationship for like five years.

amangela: RIVALS TO LOVERS AGAINNNN i have talked about this one a Lot with baflegacy bc like. they are my roman empire. at least these two have met on multiple occasions and actually fought with each other - they keep meeting at gigs/in bars and bickering. angela "clearly abba is the best band ever" giarratana and amanda "WHAT about fleetwood mac you DUMB ASS" lehan-canto. like they meet a bunch and EVERY time they end up bickering. meanwhile angela keeps seeing thirst traps of amanda on tiktok and being like "why are all the lesbians obsessed with her she SUCKS" and chanse and arasha, who have heard this three million times, are like "yeah okay buddy whatever helps you sleep at night." meanwhile amanda is living her bliss <3 and then they realize they're both in battle of the bands and uh oh! things come to a head!

#shipping #botbau #ask #asks #anon #anonymous

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sonekwi · 2 months

Text

☆ ⸻ the white paladin, keith x reader

chapter one: team bonding

characters/pairings: keith, female reader

genre: fanfiction

summary: you and your friends happen to be in the right place at the right time. you end up rescuing the pilot of the kerberos mission from the hands of the garrison after he unexpectedly returns to earth.

word count: 3,871

links: next, wattpad, masterlist

a/n: this is one of the first fanfictions i have ever written, but the original version is from when i was in 7th grade 🥲 - so, that said, enjoy this revised/rewritten version!

"Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14, begin descent to Kerberos for a rescue mission," Lance announces, shoving the yoke forward. The aircraft groans as it dives towards Pluto's moon, and you plant your feet to fight against the inertia.

Your teammate, Hunk, whines from the back. "Ugh, Lance, can you keep this thing straight?"

"Relax. I'm just getting a feel for the stick!" Lance smirks. "It's not like I did this! or this!" he jerks the aircraft side to side, intentionally making Hunk feel worse.

"Okay," Hunk gags, "Unless you want to wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies of this thing, you better knock it off, man!"

You do what you can from your co-pilot position to help stabilize the aircraft. "You need to take this seriously," you warn. "This simulation makes up most of our final grade."

"Quit worrying," Lance says, "I got this."

"Do you?" you raise a brow, and he rolls his eyes.

"We've picked up a distress beacon," Pidge says, a small blip blinking on his radar.

"Alright, look alive, team!" Lance says, pressing various buttons in preparation, "Pidge, track the coordinates."

"Copy," Pidge says and transfers the information onto the main dashboard in front of you. A three-dimensional map of the terrain is generated and you frown. The signal originates from within a narrow ravine, and the surrounding area is a nightmare; large boulders, spikes, cliffs, and overhangs.

You wearily glance over at Lance, doubting his pilot abilities. Only a miracle could get him through the simulation without crashing the ship.

The aircraft rumbles and shakes, and Hunk groans again. "Knock it off, Lance! Please!"

"Oh, this one's on you, buddy!" Lance says and glares over his shoulder. "We've got a hydraulic stabilizer out!"

You sigh, muttering under your breath. "It wouldn't be out if you would just fly straight."

"I heard that," Lance growls.

Hunk grabs his monitor to fix the issue and the aircraft rumbles again. He gags, swallowing down whatever vomit had come up. "Oh no..."

The map on the dashboard glitches and buffers before going completely dark.

"We've lost contact," you say.

"The shaking is interfering with our sensors," Pidge explains.

"Come on, Hunk!" Lance exclaims.

"Sorry, it's not responding," Hunk says and removes his safety belt. He wobbles over to a gearbox for a manual fix, the excessive motion impairing him.

The map suddenly regenerates and the distress beacon pops back up. You are about a klick from its location and approaching fast.

"Never mind, fellas," Lance says. "Preparing for approach on visual."

"Not happening," you say. "We can't fly properly until Hunk fixes the hydraulic stabilizer."

"Agreed!" Hunk says, just before losing his lunch.

"It'll be fine!" Lance says dismissively and pats the dashboard of the aircraft. "This baby can take it!" It rumbles again, "See! She was nodding!"

"Lance, listen to us!" you argue. "We need to hang back."

"I'm the one flying this thing! So what I say goes!" he glares at you.

"Excuse me?" you gawk.

Lance turns to the comm-spec, ignoring you, "Pidge, hail down to them and let them know their ride is here."

You huff. Why does he insist on being so stubborn and cocky? Does he not understand the gravity of this? If you fail the simulation, you fail the class. But you decide to keep your mouth shut from now on. There's no use trying to talk some sense into him anymore.

You watch as Lance comes up on an overhang. Instead of flying above or around it, he attempts to thread through the small opening. He turns the aircraft as vertically as he can, but fails. One of the wings clips the overhang and tears off. The alarms blare as the aircraft pummels to the ground, and the lights go dark upon impact. On the dashboard, bold red letters glow and your throat swells with frustration.

SIMULATION FAILED.

"Nice work," Pidge sarcastically comments.

The door to the aircraft slides open with a hiss, and your commander beckons the four of you out. Reluctantly, you leave your seats and exit with your heads hung. You line up, mentally preparing for the berating lecture you'll receive.

"Let's see if we can use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you students," Commander Iverson's voice booms with disappointment. He glares down at you and your team. "Can anyone point out the mistakes these so-called cadets made in the simulator?"

A student shouts from the back of the group, "The engineer puked in the main gearbox!"

Iverson turns to Hunk, "Yes, as everyone knows, vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems!" he criticizes. "What else?"

"The comm-spec removed his safety harness," another student says.

"The pilot crashed!"

"Correct," Iverson says, "And worst of all, the whole jump they're arguing with each other!" he turns back to you, "Hell, if you're going to be this bad individually, you better at least be able to work as a team!"

It takes everything in your power not to look away in shame, but you keep your gaze steady.

Iverson continues, "The Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astroexplorers, but these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what cost the lives of the men on the Kerberos Mission."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Pidge clench his fists and scrunch his nose in anger. Your eyes widen when he takes a bold step toward Iverson.

"That's not true, sir!" he argues.

�� "What did you say?" Iverson growls.

Lance pulls Pidge back and slaps a hand over his mouth, "Sorry, sir! He must've hit his head with all the shaking, but point taken!" he says, tightening his grip on the ginger as if asking what the hell is wrong with him.

Commander Iverson steps closer and your brother releases Pidge, cowering from the intimidation. "I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're here is because the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue and flunked out. Don't follow in his footsteps," Iverson warns.

Lance looks away with dejection, his shoulders trembling slightly as he keeps himself from crying.

Then, Iverson turns to you, and your body tenses with fear.

"And you!" he barks, "I expected better."

⁀➷

At the end of the day, you storm back to the barracks and grumble to yourself. Once within the safety of your room, you grab a pillow from your bed and scream into it.

"What happened?" your roommate, Nadia, asks. She doesn't bother to look up from her textbook, though.

"Nothing," you huff. "I'm fine."

"If it's your brother, you can throw a shoe at him," Nadia says.

You aggressively tug off your cadet uniform. "I don't get it! He's so fricking dense and full of himself!"

Nadia points to the closet, "I have a pair of high heels."

"His skull is so damn thick, three people couldn't talk him out of it!" you growl, putting on some more comfortable clothes.

"Aim for the eyes."

"And why was I the fricken co-pilot!? I'm top of-" you stop when someone knocks on the door. You sigh, taking out your hair tie as you walk over. Placing it on your wrist, you repeatedly snap it against your skin.

You open the door and see Lance and Hunk standing there. Without a thought, you slam the door in your brother's face.

...But he jammed his foot in the way.

"Wait, (y/n)!" he says, smooshing his face into the cracked doorway. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't fix the problem," you say and lean against the door. You push against it a couple of times to get Lance to move his foot, but he keeps it there. "What do you want?"

"Do you want to hang out with us?" Lance asks. "You heard Iverson today, he wants us to bond as a team!"

"Hard pass," you hiss and push against the door again.

"Come on, (y/n)!" Lance begs. "It isn't team bonding unless everyone is there."

You roll your eyes. "No, I'm not letting you mess this up for me any further. Go bother someone else."

With one last push, Lance moves his foot and the door slams. You sigh and drag your hands down your face. You want nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide under the blankets, but...

"He's still standing out there, isn't he?" you look at Nadia, and she nods. Groaning, you grab a jacket and pull on your shoes.

You open the door and quietly close it behind you. Looking at your brother expectantly, you try to ignore his smug face.

"I knew you'd join us," Lance says, turning to head down the hall, "Let's go get Pidge."

You roll your eyes and follow him. Lance leads you and Hunk through the barracks, avoiding the hall monitors like he's playing a stealth mission in a video game. You shush his dramatic humming multiple times.

As you come around a corner, Lance stands. "Wait right here," he says, but as he moves towards the door it opens.

He scrambles back around the corner, and the three of you watch as Pidge exits his room. He has a backpack slung over his shoulder, and suspiciously checks his surroundings before running down the hall.

"Where do you think he's going?" you ask.

"Should we go after him?" Hunk asks.

You all share a look before agreeing to follow Pidge, and Lance takes the lead again. Carefully, you keep a short distance between you and Pidge so you don't lose him. You're confused, however, as he comes up on a maintenance stairwell. The three of you watch as he quickly types in the code to the door.

The roof..? You furrow your brows as he disappears through the stairwell.

Upon reaching the top, Lance opens the door to the roof slowly and quietly. He peeks out before waving you and Hunk closer and slipping through.

The ginger sits at the edge of the roof, surrounded by various pieces of technology. His figure is outlined by the glow of the screens. Your brother smirks at you before sneaking up on Pidge.

Lance grabs the headphones off of Pidge's head. "You come here to rock out?" he asks.

Pidge jumps and screams. He places a hand on his chest, breathing heavily. "Oh, it's you guys..."

"What are you doing up here?" you ask, walking closer.

Lance looks over the tech. "Where'd you get this stuff? It doesn't look like Garrison tech..."

Pidge smirks. "I built it."

"You built all of this?" you ask, and Hunk hums excitedly.

"Yeah," Pidge says, "With this, I can scan to the edge of the solar system," he explains.

"All the way to Kerberos?" you ask and pick up a small device. You move it around in my hands, admiring the work put into it.

Pidge hangs his head at my question and starts to pick at his fingers nervously.

Lance irks. "You go ballistic every time the instructors bring it up! What's your deal?" he asks, and Pidge hesitates to answer. "Look, if we're going to bond as a team, we can't have any secrets!"

"Fine," Pidge turns to the three of you. "The world as you know it... is about to change," he says ominously.

"What do you mean?" you ask, setting down the device. You notice the notebook sitting on the ground beside him, and your eyes linger on it. On the paper is a crude rendition of what looks like a Transformers robot.

Pidge continues, "The Kerberos Mission wasn't lost because of some malfunction or crew mistake," he says, "So, I've been scanning the system and picking up alien radio chatter."

"What? Aliens?" Hunk exclaims.

"Are we talking little green dudes?" you ask, your eyes widening, "Or something bigger and meaner, like Predator?"

Lance rolls his eyes, "You're insane," he says to Pidge.

"I'm serious," Pidge argues, "They keep repeating one word, Voltron," he grabs the notebook and holds it up. "And it's going crazier than I have ever heard it."

"How crazy..?" you ask wearily, and as the words leave your mouth, the Garrison's alarms go off. You suddenly feel your body tense and your gut knots with dread.

A voice crackles over the campus loudspeakers issuing out a warning, "Attention students and faculty! This is not a drill. We are on lockdown, security situation Zulu Niner. All students are to remain in barracks until further notice."

The message is repeated a few times, and you feel worse. There's no way this is just a coincidence.

Hunk stammers and points to something in the sky. "Is- is that a meteor?" he asks, "A really, really big meteor?"

You look up to see a giant object falling towards the earth, burning up in the atmosphere. Your heart climbs up into your throat and fear floods through you.

Pidge grabs a pair of binoculars and looks at the object. "It's a ship!" he exclaims.

Lance takes the binoculars, "Holy shit! I can't believe what I'm seeing! That is not one of ours!"

"No, it's one of theirs," Pidge says with awe.

You watch as the ship plummets, crashing just a short distance away from the Garrison. The boom reverberates through your whole body, and your nose quickly begins to burn at the smell of sulfur and smoke.

Below you, Garrison troops deploy and race to the crash site.

"We've got to see that ship!" Pidge exclaims, quickly packing up his stuff before running towards the roof exit.

"Come on, guys!" Lance says to you and Hunk.

You sigh, following your brother and teammates. "This is not what I had in mind for team bonding."

⁀➷

Perched on a ledge on the outskirts of the crash site, you observe the area. The Garrison had beat you to it and had guards upon guards patrolling, each one heavily armed. The alien ship, seemingly undamaged by the crash, was already loaded onto the bed of a truck. Off to the side, they had set up a quarantine tent.

You watch as scientists and high-ranking officers walk in and out of the tent. You wonder if they found something. Maybe an alien or strange artifact?

Pidge works on his laptop as Lance surveys the crash site with a pair of binoculars. While you and Hunk stand behind them, you keep your head on a swivel to make sure no one sneaks up on you. Things will only get worse from here if you're caught.

"Hey," Pidge says, "They set up a camera inside the tent and I grabbed its feed. Look!"

You walk over and kneel beside him, your eyes widening at what you see on his laptop. Inside the tent, a human is strapped down to a metal table, struggling against the restraints. A pair of scientists lean over him, performing a basic physical evaluation. Commander Iverson stands among them, supervising.

"What are you doing?" the man asks and jerks his body against the restraints.

"Calm down," Iverson says, "We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests."

The man shakes his head, "You have to listen to me! They destroy worlds!" he grunts, "Aliens are coming!"

Lance gawks at the screen. "That's Shiro! The pilot of the Kerberos Mission! That guy's my hero!" he exclaims.

"Where's his crew?" you ask.

One of the scientists grabs a syringe to draw Shiro's blood. "Do you know how long you've been gone?" he asks.

"I don't know. Months? Years?" Shiro says, "Look, there's no time. Aliens are coming here for a weapon. They will destroy us! We need to find Voltron."

"Sir, take a look at this," the scientist says, "It appears his arm has been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic."

"Put him under until we know what that thing can do," Iverson says.

"No, don't!" Shiro begs. "Don't put me under! There's no time!"

You watch with wide eyes as the scientists inject an anesthetic into Shiro, not heeding a single word that comes out of his mouth. Why aren't they listening to him? He's been gone for a year and was presumed dead. There's no way he's been alive on Kerberos this whole time. How are they not going to believe his story?

"We have to get him out," Pidge says.

Hunk sighs, "I hate to be the voice of reason, but weren't we just watching the security feed because there was no way to get past the guards?"

Lance frowns and rests his chin in his hand. "That was before we were properly motivated. We just got to think."

"I don't know," you say. "I don't think there's anything we can do..."

Lance shakes his head, "We need a distraction."

Bombs explode in the distance, their fiery heat blazing and kicking up dust. You scream and stumble back, your heart pounding. The noise nearly deafens you and you slap your hands over your ears in hopes of drowning it out.

Hunk starts to freak out, "Is that the aliens? Are they here?"

"No, that was a distraction!" Pidge says and points, "For him!"

Barreling towards the crash site is a hover-bike, and as it pulls up behind a rock your eyes widen. You recognize the hover-bike and its driver almost immediately.

"The Garrison is heading towards the blast, and he's sneaking in on the other side!" Pidge explains.

"Oh, he is not going to beat us in there!" Lance barks and slides down the ledge, rushing toward the tent.

"Lance! Wait!" you call out and follow him down, the gravel and dirt scraping against your bare legs. You curse yourself for wearing shorts.

"Who is it?" Pidge asks, shoving his stuff into his backpack again.

"Keith!" you shout to him.

"Are you sure?" Hunk asks, following after you and your brother.

"Trust me, I'd recognize that mullet anywhere!" Lance growls.

By the time the four of you get to the tent, Keith is already inside. With the scientists knocked out, he cuts the restraints holding Shiro down, and sits him up. Barely conscious, Shiro can only manage to groan in response to Keith's questions as he slings Shiro's arm around his shoulders.

"No, no, no! I'm saving Shiro!" Lance snaps and grabs Shiro's other arm.

"Uh, who are you..?" Keith asks.

"Seriously? The name's Lance?" your brother says, but Keith remains confused. Lance frowns with a look of hurt and disbelief, "We were in the same class at the Garrison! We were like rivals! You know, Lance and Keith, neck-and-neck?"

"Oh, wait, I remember you. You're a cargo pilot," Keith says, furrowing his brows as the memory comes back to him.

As they bicker, you exit the tent. You resume your look-out position from before and check the area. As your eyes move to wear Keith and set off the bombs, you spot the fleet of Garrison vehicles heading back to the crash site. Your heart leaps into your throat and you rush back inside.

"If you both want to save Shiro, I suggest we get moving. The Garrison is coming back and they do not look happy!" you say, urging everyone out of the tent.

At the sound of your voice, Keith's eyes meet yours and his face softens. For a small moment, you stop, a familiar feeling crawling out of the hole you buried it in. Neither of you has seen or spoken to each other since he dropped out of the Garrison. You were really good friends up until that point.

However, part of you is thankful that he never reached out. You knew the little crush you had would never live to be something more, so it gave you the time you needed to move on. But, as your heart flutters with excitement, you realize that you never did.

You force yourself to break eye contact and turn towards the exit. The group follows you, with Lance and Keith carrying Shiro out as fast as they can.

"Is this going to fit all of us?" Pidge asks as he hops on the hover-bike.

"No," Keith answers as he and Lance load Shiro onto the hover-bike. But once he's seated at the helm and everyone's on, he doesn't waste time. He revs the engine and the hover-bike roars to life, lifting a few feet off the ground.

Just as the Garrison comes around the corner, Keith makes a sharp turn and takes off in the opposite direction. From your seat behind him, you hold onto Keith tightly to avoid falling off.

The Garrison doesn't hesitate to pursue the group deeper into the desert, and Lance happily points it out, "Can't this thing go any faster? They're right on our tail!"

Keith rolls his eyes and jabs, "We can throw off some nonessential weight."

Expectantly, Lance looks around to see what he can toss off the hover-bike, but Keith's words were directed at the five extra people, "Okay, so that was an insult–"

"Big man, lean right!" Keith shouts over his shoulder and Hunk does so. As the hover-bike sharply banks to the right, it jumps over a small ravine. You make the unfortunate mistake of looking down mid-jump, and your body floods with fear.

"Not cool, not cool!" you exclaim and shove your face into Keith's back. You don't usually have a fear of heights, especially when you are piloting an aircraft from the safety of an enclosed space. Riding on a hover-bike with Keith at the helm, however, the risk of falling off is very prominent.

"Are you seriously scared of heights?" Lance asks, immediately noticing it. "You're a freaking pilot!"

"This is different!" you bark at him.

"Wait, guys," Hunk stammers as he points ahead of us. "Is that a cliff up ahead?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" Lance protests.

"Oh, yes," Keith grins and increases the speed, heading straight towards the cliff.

Everyone, except for Keith and Shiro (who is still very much unconscious), screams and clambers incoherently as the hover-bike dives right off of the cliff.

You feel your stomach float up into your chest and your butt lift off of the seat as you fall. Your entire body buzzes with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip around Keith. If you fall off now, there's no doubt you will be dead.

And flat as a pancake.

"What are you doing? You're gonna get us all killed!" Lance screams.

"Just shut up and trust me!" Keith shouts back.

"I trust you!" you say, burying your face again. You truly do, though. Despite him being a reckless risk-taker, you know Keith would never put you in harm's way... well, maybe he would with Lance.

You fall for what seems like an eternity before Keith rolls the throttle all the way, blasting the engines and maxing out their power. The hover-bike stops just before it hits the ground, and your butt smacks down on the seat.

That's definitely gonna be bruised...

With the Garrison having no way down the cliff, the group escapes.

#voltron #keith kogane #vld keith #keith x reader #fanfic #vld #x reader #reader insert #keith voltron

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chickenparm · 9 months

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A Draw - ChiLumi

you guys like jazz? and by jazz i mean me finally writing something. i wrote this for my buddy that deserves 1000 of these nastyass fics.

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AO3 LINK

ChiLumi / ChildexLumine 2892 Words - NSFW (Size kink, thigh riding, foul legacy form)

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Time, distance, circumstance; All keep Childe from truly reaching out with both hands to sink his fingers into Lumine. It’s not as if she’s uninterested - Childe sometimes plays the role of an oblivious nice guy, but he’s not a moron. The trailing of her eyes against the flash of skin revealed by his uniform, the way her cheeks flush when they’re nearly nose-to-nose in one of their occasional bouts, the reluctance to part ways when they have no further business with each other.

No, Childe is convinced Lumine wants him, nearly as much as he wants her.

But there’s a time and place for ruminating on his unwise feelings for the woman that is slowly but surely becoming a thorn in the Tsaritsa’s side that is too sharp to ignore. For now, she stands across from him in the secluded copse of trees that they’ve claimed for their spar, sword brandished and the silence surrounding them comfortably.

Truthfully, they don’t need to exchange words. The typical rules of combat between Childe and Lumine never really change, but something itches beneath his skin and he calls out a greeting, followed with, “Girlie, I need a favor from you!”

“A favor?” Lumine responds, voice a bit flat and less musical than he remembers. From this distance, he can just make out the sight of dark circles beneath her eyes - she must be tired.

But an advantage is an advantage, and it’s been a few too many fights since he last claimed victory. Especially with what he asks of her this time, a smile on his face like that would convince her. “I’d like to use my Foul Legacy transformation, if you’re up for it.”

“If you’re up for it.” Lumine responds, and Childe doesn’t miss the way her shoulders stiffen, her hand grips her sword a little tighter, and the shadows of her collarbone growing a little more prominent as she blushes. Huh… that’s new.

But he waves a hand with a smile, “And that’s the favor - a kind Traveler helping me back to civilization so I don’t have to lay in the dirt out here recovering.” And maybe he gets to savor the feeling of leaning on her, his arm hitched around Lumine’s shoulders for support as he hobbles back to town. That’s a perk she doesn’t need to know about, though.

Lumine’s cheek shifts with how she chews on it, and it takes a little too long for her to finally nod, then add on, “Just don’t go too far. Don’t hurt yourself.”

As if they both wouldn’t be leaving the area without injuries from one another. Nothing lethal, of course, but bruises, sprains, maybe a gash or two. And this time, his debilitating exhaustion whether he won or not.

So, it begins. With the knowledge he’ll be growing even more powerful, Lumine doesn’t dare go all out. The casual nature of each fight’s beginning gives her time to be a little distracted, and Childe wouldn’t dare deny her something so simple as shifting just right, widening that window of skin until it’s from hip bone to belly button.

Lumine’s pupils expand, Childe’s blood sings and it can’t be attributed to the battle.

It would be so easy, he thinks, to just take her. Or to let her take him. Before Lumine, the total sum of people he’d ever thought about willingly debasing himself for was a resounding zero. Either lack of respect, lack of trust, lack of power. She has two out of three, but he’s sure with enough time the trust would happen.

One, two, three heartbeats before the familiar stinging floods his muscle fibers, his veins, every strand of nerves. The world doesn’t change, but it feels different at such a new vantage point as he looks down at Lumine. And she looks up at him with those same exact eyes, wide open and filled with hunger that is no longer as subtle.

Things in his mind change a little when he lets the Abyss co-pilot his body. Nothing so overt, but certain inhibitions are lowered, specific emotions are amplified to the point of being impossible to resist. Temptation lingers in front of Childe, and he’s a little rougher than necessary when he pins her to the ground with clawed hands.

The sound of her grunt of pain sounds warbled and is nearly lost against the rushing of blood in his ears. Lumine is so small now, growing fragile in the few moments it took him to shed one form and slip into another. There’s no fear in her eyes as she stares at the single-eyed mask that hides the twisted visage beneath, her legs shifting together in an unmistakable sign of his victory.

“Submit.”

Words don’t come easy. Childe resolves to only spout the ones that matter; phrases meant to direct and demand. His palms press to her shoulders, sharp-tipped fingers digging into the dirt to avoid the easy slicing of skin and sinew. Lumine’s throat bobs, the movement painfully obvious before she nods mutely.

Demureness doesn’t feel right when she wears it like this, but Childe supposes it comes with the territory of this kind of victory. The pressure of his hold lessens, a silent invitation for her to make some sort of move to leave if she wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be.

And Lumine doesn’t move from beneath him, only spreads her thighs a little wider as if to invite him exactly where he wants to be.

Hands like these can’t necessarily touch her how he wants to, and he’s forced to make do with what he can. A little shift of his knee, careful of sharp bits and pointy things, until she’s pressed against the thin fabric covering Childe’s thigh. And he can feel the heat; the warmth seeping through the layers from her to him.

After a moment of stillness - because he’s exercising impossible levels of restraint and every moment is met with the instinct to hurt, harm, leave lasting marks that might never go away - Lumine’s wariness slips just enough for her to roll her hips a single time. That’s all she needs to realize that if Childe won’t be a little more swift with providing what she needs, then at the very least she can take it for herself.

A thousand words want to escape, but with his jaw clamped tightly shut, all he can do is purr through grit teeth, “Good.”

It could be that it feels good for him. Or that he’s impressed with her willingness to use him for what she wants. It could even be some sort of reassurance that despite the last time she saw him in this way, things are so very different this time around.

Truthfully, it’s all of the above.

Lumine freezes, golden eyelashes fluttering at the sensation she gives herself using Childe so easily. Her breath shakes with arousal, Childe’s rumbles quietly with anticipation - he doesn’t have to wait long. Palms pressed flat against the ground below, Lumine uses it as leverage to rock against his thigh once, twice, three more times until her trepidation has all but vanished. The sounds that leave the back of her throat are shameless in their volume.

If he were more like himself - or less like himself, sometimes he isn’t sure anymore - he’d be grinning wildly and prodding her for answers to questions like, “Does that feel good?” or, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Instead, Childe watches with a single blue, gem-like eye as Lumine’s cheeks run pink and her eyelids fall halfway with each languid grind of her cunt against him. And each press put it in stark relief that the warmth through the layers is accompanied by a wetness telling of Lumine’s arousal, the depravity she’s indulging in by showing attraction rather than fear.

Little puffs of air leave her parted lips, and he leans closer and examines the exact shade of pink, wondering if she’s just as pink elsewhere. Lifting one hand, relieving enough pressure that she could escape if she truly wanted to, Childe tugs and tugs at the straps of her halter top until she grows irritated enough to pull it open herself, her chest spilling free and confirming the sick little suspicions in Childe’s head.

What he wouldn’t give to reach out and squeeze, pinch, roll until she’s breathless and whining beneath him, begging for more or pleading him to quit teasing. The best he can do to sate himself is press the heel of his palm to her breast and zero in on the sensation of her nipple hardening from just his touch alone.

Lumine, suddenly so receptive and willing, arches into him and stammers out the single-syllable of his name in some form of elation before it melts into a quiet moan signaling her release. It’s nothing groundbreaking or earth-shattering, not with how dull the stimulation must have been through so many layers, but Childe could give her so much more if she wanted it.

Surely she must - that can’t have been enough for her. The lack of exertion makes it so that he can stay like this longer, and if Lumine were willing enough to continue just… using him…

Childe pushes off of her, falling onto his backside and giving her a pleading expression that he knows full well she can’t see under the mask of his transformation. Perhaps it’s better that she can’t - it would likely only serve to scare her away, if the prominent bulge of his cock straining beneath the fabric of his belt wasn’t intimidating enough.

Lumine props on her elbows. She watches him, bare chest rising and falling as she looks first at his mask, then his chest, then to his lap which he has made so very inviting. Sitting up more, she hesitates as if to make sure she isn’t misreading a situation that is so very obvious, then crawls closer. Childe thinks she looks rather pretty on her hands and knees, dirt staining her dress, her boots, the palms of her hands and pads of her fingers that reach beneath her skirt to pull away shorts and underwear that have been soaked through.

Childe can be merciful, when he wants to be. And he desperately wants, right now. Hooking clawed thumbs into hidden fastenings, he tugs himself free of constraining fabric until Lumine pauses, eyes widening with a sudden hesitation at what she was so sure she could handle.

“Come here.” The two words grate from his throat as he reaches out for her, part encouragement and part impatience. Bravery has always been a hallmark of hers, so what use is it for her to balk now when this battle is far easier than any she’s taken on so far?

Lumine ignores his hand, swallowing hard before crawling forward further. Her dirtied hands curl around his shins, then hook around the sharp protrusions of his boots as she crawls into his lap. Those same small hands lay against his chest as she steadies herself, hovering over his cock but not quite touching. As before, it would be so easy to just grab her and pull her down, to impale her on his length and take what he’s been unable to stop yearning for.

But he doesn’t. Transformed or not, Childe isn’t nearly so callous as to go faster than Lumine can handle. Though, she certainly can handle him when he’s this way, it simply needs to be at her pace - or he’ll never find himself in this sort of situation ever again.

With one hand - it’s shaking - Lumine reaches down to wrap her fingers around him, giving a single experimental stroke as if to remind her of the inhuman size. As if she needed some sort of refresher when she needs to crane her neck to look up at his masked face. Then, holding him steady at the base, she lines up and lowers just a little, just enough to take his tip inside of a cunt not quite meant to take someone of his size.

Lumine pauses, a whimper falling from her lips that mingles with the quiet relieved groan of his own. Even if this is all she could handle, it would be something he’d be appreciative of - she’s so warm, impossibly tight around him as she works a little more inside, bit by bit.

Childe’s head cocks to the side, a silent question, and Lumine answers with fervent enthusiasm, “I’m taking it all. Be patient.”

As if he were the one starting to move faster, be louder, breathe so quickly that it borders on hysteria. Childe is as a statue, not even trembling despite the monumental effort it takes to keep from just gripping her hips and pulling her the rest of the way. It’s her own determination that keeps him in check - one way or another, she’ll get there.

And she does. It’s agonizingly slow, but Lumine settles firm in his lap, forehead pressed against his chest. If she were to simply stay like this - stuffed full of his cock and keeping it warm - Childe would chalk that up to a victory and be able to die a happy man. But then she moves, leaning back a little, the walls of her pussy shifting against his length with a vice-like tension, and Childe greedily wants more.

But his voice won’t form words - only a low rumble and a wheezing sigh. Careful of sharp-tipped fingers, he lifts his hand to rest his palm against one of her bare thighs, so small beneath his hand as he curls sharp fingers around it. Lumine makes her first real movement; a lift up before a tentative lowering. Childe’s vision swims, and the only coherent thought he can grasp in that split-second is the sensation of her thigh muscles trembling in his hand.

He thought her stillness would have been enough, but the line has been pushed back a little more. Surely this would be enough, this tentative motion of riding his cock in centimeter segments that grow longer and longer in distance.

Through a single blue eye, Lumine looks beautiful as she falls apart.

Any poise she’s held in the light of day is long gone in the murky dim light as she braces her hands on his knees that help hold her upright, fingertips bleeding bone-white as she grasps at him in a mixture of pleasure and pain with unclear ratios. But if it’s not enough for her to want to stop, then who is he to decide which amounts are best?

All Childe can do is watch as Lumine grows feverish and desperate, moving faster, fucking herself with his cock until she cries out in a way that’s eerily similar to what she sounds like when she’s in a short burst of agony. As she tenses to the point of shivering around him, Childe digs through his memories for any time he’s heard that sound in battle, then files them away to be repurposed in the event that Lumine has no further interest in taking him again.

The line moves again. It’s enough that she cums, that she soaks his lap with her arousal as she gets what she swore she wanted. Childe stares and stares, committing it to memory even as the world shifts, as Lumine isn’t quite as small as she’d been moments before. His vision goes double before he realizes that one eye has become two, that Lumine’s breathless whines sound relieved as he gets a little smaller in turn.

It’s easier to slide his arms around her, to cradle her in his lap as he kisses her with little care for the dazed expression she gives him. Lumine’s passivity lasts for but a moment, before she shows surprising strength in the grip she establishes on his sweaty hair.

In the span of that single kiss, Childe almost forgets entirely that his entire body is screaming in agony. Lumine is like a balm, and only when she pulls away do his hands start to tremble and he struggles to extend an arm behind himself to simply stay upright.

“I could kill you right now.” Lumine teases, and to most that would have horrifying connotations, but Childe thinks it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever heard.

His head lazily rolls to the side in a mockery of curious expression, “What’s stopping you?”

“Sore.” Lumine says shortly, but amends it with a clarification of why she bothered to establish such a power dynamic after nearly fucking herself to pieces with his body. Is it some kind of sacrilege to have sex when he’s more abyss than man? Maybe something to bring up when he sees Skirk next, he thinks. His thoughts are interrupted by Lumine asking, “Technically that means I win. Because I could kill you. Checkmate and all that.”

“I could have killed you while you were busy-”

“But you didn’t say it, you didn’t claim it, so that can’t be counted.”

“That’s not-” Childe pauses for a moment. His cock is still inside her, her hair is matted with sweat, her cheeks flushed. Somewhere behind her, her underwear lays forgotten in the grass. There’s dirt under her nails. “Fine. You can have this one.”

Despite her victorious smile, the squeeze of her hands on his knees, Childe’s pretty sure this is, at best, a draw.

#mind the a/n for content tags #chilumi #childe x lumine #tartaglia x lumine #childe/lumine #tartaglia/lumine #genshin impact #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #nsft #childe #tartaglia #lumine #childe genshin #tartaglia genshin #lumine genshin #genshin

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outrunningthedark · 1 year

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Buddie in 6A: The Recap

What it says on the tin: a recap of the Buddie scenes from each episode in 6A. I previously made similar posts for 5A and 5B. 6x01 // Let the Games Begin For context: The season-opening disaster involved a blimp crashing into Cal-Am Bank Stadium, home of LA’s two football (soccer) teams. 🌈 Bobby radios Eddie to tell him "Buck is on his way up to help you evacuate the co-pilot.”

🌈 Buckley-Diaz lasagna night that starts with Buck’s disappointment over not being named interim captain and ends with a discussion about “couches”:

(Only took him three tries to get it right!)

Buck: I just want to know what these other candidates have that apparently I don’t.

Christopher: Buck, you don’t even have a couch.

Buck: So what does that have to do with being fire captain?

Christopher: It’s weird.

Buck: My last two couches came with girlfriends.

Eddie: I think you mean your last two girlfriends came with couches. Taylor moved out, what, four months ago, Buck?

🌈 The team responds to a call about an injured golfer. Wanting to prove himself worthy of the interim captain role, Buck “secures the perimeter” even though he wasn’t asked.

Eddie: *is done with him*

🌈 The 118 is called to a car dealership when a competition for a brand new car leaves contestants in poor health. When the owner of the dealership refuses to suspend the competition, Bobby tells Buck to get the “saws and jaws” to cut up the car.

Eddie: *is highly amused*

6x02 // Crash and Learn

🌈 Buck and Eddie observe an overworked Hen (juggling med school and interim captain duties) napping in the fire truck.

Buck: I feel like we should do something.

Eddie: *nods* Get her a pillow.

🌈 After being unable to save a man named Lev at a happiness convention, Eddie and Chim try to get Buck and Hen to go out with them for breakfast.

Per writer & director Juan Carlos Coto, the shared glance between Eddie and Chim prior to mentioning breakfast was Ryan and Kenny’s suggestion:

It was Ryan and Kenny’s idea to do that little look at the top of the scene. Made the whole thing work.

6x04 // Animal Instincts Note: This episode marks the beginning of an individual arc for Buck that, though not related to Buddie, should be mentioned because it may influence future scenes between them - Buck is visited by an old roommate he hasn’t spoken to in years (Connor) and his wife (Kameron), who are hoping that Buck will agree to be their sperm donor. Also important, as it will come into play later: Buck adopts the theory of “radical acceptance” (his phrase, not mine), which is supposed to mean that he will say yes to new possibilities in order to gain new life experiences and figure out what will make him happiest.

🌈 As the rest of the 118 loads an injured birdwatcher into the ambulance, Buck and Eddie (still gathering the supplies) watch as the man who made the 9-1-1 call tries to flirt with the birdwatcher’s sister…and is rejected:

Embarrassed, the man explains that he thought it was “his shot” at asking her out.

Buck: Well, I think maybe you have bad instincts.

Eddie: Better luck next time.

🌈 Eddie discovers that Christopher has been skipping Science Club to hang out at the park with friends and discusses it with Hen (who is supposed to be taking time off) and Chim.

Eddie: I notice you’ve been awfully quiet over there, Buck. Christopher hasn’t said anything to you about these little secrets, has he? Buck (not listening because he’s still pondering Connor and Kameron’s request): Uh, to me? No, no-no secrets here. Eddie: *is suspicious*

🌈 The 118 tends to a bicyclist and the drunk driver that hit him. While Chim is attempting to treat the unconscious driver inside the vehicle, the man suddenly awakens, panics, and speeds off. When everyone realizes Chim has been “kidnapped”, Buck jumps on the abandoned bike and goes after him. Eddie: *is annoyed*

“Buck! Where the hell are you going?!” Note: By the end of the episode, Buck agrees to donate his sperm so Connor and Kameron can fulfill their dream. (Putting “radical acceptance” to the test.) 6x05 // Home Invasion 🌈 The 118 saves a man named Vincent who lost consciousness while trying to insulate/soundproof his sister Marisol’s attic. The rescue involved tearing down the walls of Marisol’s recently-purchased home, so Buck and Eddie decide to recruit some (never before seen) friends to help patch up the damage.

Buck: We thought maybe you could use a hand with some repairs. Eddie: Yeah, we heard somebody really destroyed your house. 6x06 // Tomorrow Setup: formerly known as “Henren Begins”, the 118 must save Karen and her coworkers after an explosion in their space lab. The present day is juxtaposed with scenes from Henren’s early days as a couple. Karen is led out of the building, but collapses and nearly dies because her heart is not pumping enough blood. She is brought back by her wife. At the hospital, Chim informs Athena and the 118 (minus Hen) that Karen made it out of surgery - minus her spleen. Buck questions whether Karen will be able to live without the organ. (Up to you whether you think it was another example of Himbo Buck or he was so anxious he needed verbal confirmation.) Eddie: *bows head and smiles to himself*

“She’s gonna be okay.” 6x07 // Cursed Note: This is the first episode since 6x04 where the sperm donor request is brought up. Buck has multiple failed attempts at “finishing the job” (a sign that he should not go through with it), but successfully completes the first round by the end of the hour. Setup: The 118 responds to a series of calls where a fading Hollywood star (Felisa) finds herself in dangerous situations. The belief is that a bracelet she purchased for good luck has actually “cursed” her, but Eddie disagrees. 🌈 At the firehouse, the 118 plus Athena are sitting down for breakfast in anticipation of Hen’s return to work following Karen’s brush with death. Buck, however, is only drinking green juice because he thinks it will help his overall health when donating. Eddie looked at Buck as he sat down with his green juice, but, well...

“How did the age of absolutely turn into alfalfa smoothies?” Bonus: Bobby: What’s with the, uh, green juice? *eyes land on Eddie* Eddie: *puts hand up* I don’t know. 🌈 (Following a call where Felisa was left unconscious) Buck: So you still don’t think she’s cursed? Eddie. No, but I’m starting to think I am. 🌈 Buck looking on fondly as Eddie attempts to get into contact with Felisa to return her bracelet (that was left in the back of the ambulance) 🌈 Buck backs up Eddie’s stance re: the bracelet not actually causing Felisa’s troubles: “Listen, I’m-I’m starting to think maybe Eddie has a point here. The accident at the crystal shop...bracelet wasn’t even there.” Note: Buck quickly changes his mind about the bracelet after the 118 (excluding Hen, who found out in 6x04) learns of his plans to donate his sperm thanks to an unplanned conversation between Buck, Connor, and Kameron at the firehouse.

6x08 // What’s Your Fantasy? 🌈 The firefam learns that Christopher has a crush on a classmate, but Eddie doesn’t know their name because “he’s not spilling, and I don’t feel like pushing.” Buck, predictably, has Opinions on the matter:

“Uh, isn’t he kinda young to start dating?” 🌈 Back in the truck, the conversation turns to first kisses. Eddie says they’ve “drifted off topic” because “Christopher isn’t kissing anyone.” Buck: *is not helping* Eddie: I know it's normal. I just didn't think Christopher was old enough yet. Bobby: Maybe the problem is it makes you feel old. Chimney: Wait till he starts shaving. Buck: Before you know it, someone's gonna be calling you Grandpa. Eddie: I don't know why I tell you guys anything. 🌈 (Still in the truck) Bobby spots a mysterious man falling from somewhere above, landing on the pavement. The 118 gets out to help the victim and inspect the premises. Buck: There aren’t any tall buildings around here. Eddie: Right. Buck: And unless that song was based in truth, I don’t think it’s ever actually raining men. Eddie: *has no idea how to respond to that*

🌈 The Buddie moments this week concluded with these shots of the Buckley-Diazes in action. 6x09 // Red Flag 🌈 The opening call saw members of the 118 going door-to-door to try and find the owner of a severed hand. Buck and Eddie: *over it*

[link to full set]

🌈 After all attempts are unsuccessful, the 118 catches a bystander running away with their cooler of ice. He and his friends are missing appendages thanks to a fireworks mishap. Buck says he’s “not it” to get out of chasing after the kid. Eddie is displeased. 🌈 A woman sleepwalks (really, sleepdrives) her way into the firehouse, causing an accident. The car does not belong to her. She is also naked. Buck and Eddie try to be gentlemen about it, ofc. 🌈 Buck asks the woman if she always sleeps “in the nude.” Eddie reacts as you would expect. 🌈 The 118 is on the roof of the firehouse, talking and drinking hot chocolate because nobody can sleep. Buck: Who can sleep when there’s cars driving unannounced into the building? Eddie: Would you prefer an announcement? (Answer: Yes.) 🌈 gifsets one + two of Eddie and Buck on the roof, featuring Eddie handing Buck his cup of cocoa 🌈 Buck calls Chim, who’s already on the phone with Hen, because he has some news he wants to share. But before doing so, he decides to “grab Eddie” and add him to the conversation. The news is that Buck’s sperm donation has been successful, Connor and Kameron are finally pregnant. Eddie doesn’t think this is news worth celebrating. He also removes himself from the conversation before Buck expresses how he feels about helping create a new life:

I'll try and take a nap. Chris is gonna be up in an hour. Hey, see you guys tomorrow. Hen: All right. See ya. Hey, Buck, you never said. How are you feeling about this... creation of new life? Buck: I mean, I'm-I'm happy. You know, I'm happy for them. I-I was worried that... what if it didn't work out, a-and me saying yes just ended up setting them up for more disappointment? Chimney: So, you're good? Buck: Yeah. Yeah, I-I think I am. In fact, I feel like I can finally go and get some sleep. 🌈 We say goodbye to Buddie in 6A with these shots of the guys getting a well-deserved rest. Note: the camera transitioned from Eddie to Buck as the scene unfolded.

Bonus: gifset one + two showing just how close they were in the finale. (Queen Brenna was back and she fed us well.) >>See ya in the spring (I hope)!<<

#tina speaks #otp: pretty boy and the kid #buddie in 6A #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1

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