#Pilot Cockpit Training

[atom-aviation32]

Discover the Secrets of the Pilot Cockpit at First Cockpit

Introduction: The Pilot Cockpit – Your Gateway to the Skies

When aspiring pilots begin their journey, one of the first things they are introduced to is the pilot cockpit. This vital part of any aircraft is not only where the pilot controls the plane but also where critical decisions are made, ensuring safety and efficiency during every flight. At First Cockpit, we understand the immense responsibility of flying an aircraft, and our training programs focus on teaching you to master the pilot cockpit from day one.

In this blog, we’ll dive into what the pilot cockpit entails, why it’s so important, and how our First Cockpit training programs will help you gain the skills needed to navigate it confidently. Let’s take a look at the elements of the pilot cockpit and how they contribute to a successful flight experience.

What is a Pilot Cockpit?

A pilot cockpit is the area in an aircraft where the pilot controls the airplane. It houses the flight controls, navigation equipment, and instruments that allow the pilot to monitor the aircraft's performance and communicate with air traffic control. The cockpit is often referred to as the "command center" of the plane, as it is where all critical flight decisions are made.

At First Cockpit, we place a strong emphasis on training our students to become proficient in managing the cockpit. Whether you’re handling the controls or interpreting the readings from various instruments, understanding the pilot cockpit layout and its functions is a key element of your training.

The Key Components of a Pilot Cockpit

1. Flight Instruments in the Pilot Cockpit

The pilot cockpit is equipped with a variety of flight instruments that provide essential information during flight. These instruments include:

Altimeter: Measures the aircraft’s altitude.

Airspeed Indicator: Displays the speed of the aircraft.

Attitude Indicator: Shows the plane's orientation relative to the horizon.

Heading Indicator: Displays the aircraft’s direction in degrees.

Turn Coordinator: Indicates whether the aircraft is turning and the rate of turn.

At First Cockpit, our training ensures that you become adept at reading and interpreting these instruments, allowing you to make informed decisions while flying. Mastering the pilot cockpit instruments is critical for ensuring that the flight is safe and within legal flight parameters.

2. Flight Controls in the Pilot Cockpit

The pilot cockpit is where all the flight controls are located, enabling the pilot to maneuver the aircraft. The main controls include:

Yoke or Control Stick: Controls the pitch and roll of the aircraft.

Throttle: Manages engine power to control speed.

Rudder Pedals: Control yaw and assist in turning the plane.

Flaps: Used to increase lift and drag for takeoff and landing.

Effective use of these flight controls is a significant focus of our First Cockpit training programs. You will learn how to handle these controls under various conditions, which is essential for smooth flight operations.

3. Communication Systems in the Pilot Cockpit

Effective communication is a critical part of flying. The pilot cockpit includes communication systems that allow pilots to stay in contact with air traffic control (ATC) and other aircraft. These systems include:

Radio Transceivers: Used for communication with ATC and other aircraft.

Intercom Systems: Enable communication between the pilot and co-pilot or passengers.

Cockpit Voice Recorder (CVR): Records all cockpit conversations for safety and legal reasons.

At First Cockpit, we emphasize communication training. Effective communication from the pilot cockpit ensures that pilots follow proper procedures and are able to manage any situation that arises during the flight.

The Importance of Mastering the Pilot Cockpit

Understanding the pilot cockpit is essential for several reasons. First and foremost, a well-versed pilot knows how to operate the aircraft under various conditions. Mastery of the pilot cockpit allows pilots to make quick, informed decisions, ensuring smooth flights in both normal and emergency situations.

At First Cockpit, we believe that a strong understanding of the pilot cockpit is key to success. Our curriculum is designed to familiarize students with every aspect of the cockpit, from controlling the flight to interpreting instruments and making safety-critical decisions.

Training at First Cockpit: Preparing You for the Pilot Cockpit

At First Cockpit, we offer specialized training that prepares you to confidently enter the pilot cockpit. Our training programs are built around real-world scenarios that teach you how to handle the flight controls, interpret instruments, and communicate effectively in the cockpit. Here’s how our training program prepares you for success in the pilot cockpit:

1. Hands-on Flight Experience

We believe that the best way to learn is through practice. Our students spend a significant amount of time in the cockpit, learning how to operate the aircraft under various conditions. Whether it’s your first flight or you’re advancing to more complex maneuvers, we ensure that you gain plenty of flight time in the pilot cockpit.

2. Ground School Training

Ground school forms the foundation of your training, where you’ll learn about aviation theory, aircraft systems, weather, navigation, and communication protocols. Understanding these concepts ensures that you’ll have the knowledge to make informed decisions once you’re inside the pilot cockpit.

3. Advanced Simulators

We incorporate flight simulators into our training program to help you practice in a realistic but risk-free environment. These simulators mimic the pilot cockpit experience, allowing you to practice maneuvers, troubleshoot problems, and respond to emergencies, all while gaining valuable experience.

Why First Cockpit’s Pilot Cockpit Training Sets You Apart

Choosing First Cockpit for your pilot cockpit training provides several key benefits that set you up for a successful aviation career:

1. Experienced Instructors

Our instructors are seasoned pilots who bring years of experience in the aviation industry. They are dedicated to helping you become proficient in the pilot cockpit and providing you with the guidance needed to succeed.

2. State-of-the-Art Equipment

At First Cockpit, we use the latest aircraft and simulators to ensure you train with top-notch equipment. This helps you become familiar with modern cockpits and prepares you for real-world flying.

3. Career Support

We don’t just teach you to fly; we help you launch your aviation career. With job placement assistance and career counseling, First Cockpit ensures you’re ready to take off and succeed in the aviation industry.

Conclusion: Master the Pilot Cockpit with First Cockpit

The pilot cockpit is where your aviation journey truly begins. With the right training, you can gain the confidence and skills needed to control an aircraft and navigate the skies safely. At First Cockpit, we provide comprehensive training that covers every aspect of the pilot cockpit, from flight controls to communication systems, ensuring you are fully prepared for your career as a pilot.

Start your training today and discover how First Cockpit can help you master the pilot cockpit and take your first steps toward a rewarding aviation career.

[aomiiine]

SAVE A PLANE, RAWDOG A PILOT

ON THIS PLANE, YOU’LL BE WITNESSING … commercial airline pilot!caleb & stewardess fem!reader, pure filth ahead!! warning(s) -> nsfw, MDNI [18+ only], smut w no plot, he hits from behind, creampie, caleb’s a fucking tease, dirty talk, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up b4 any action irl), not fighter pilot caleb, degradation (he calls u a slut once), petnames: sweetheart, baby, princess, implied aftercare, slight comedy lol, not proofread wordcount. 0.8k (procrastinating from my long ass sylus fic sorz)

DEAR PILOT of yours just can’t stand not touching you after every flight you share together. He says its because he misses you, you say its because he needs to mark your pretty body for the next flight you’re on to ward off unwanted attention.

working with your childhood friend as a stewardess at an airline he worked as a pilot was.. pleasurable to say the least. Caleb had trained to be a fighter pilot, something you respected him for despite his ridiculous teasing whenever he came home. But what you wondered most now, was why he suddenly abandoned his duties just to be a pilot for a normal plane travelling across countries.

Crisp uniform, fitting hat and a smug smile. Today was one of the many unlucky days you shared a flight with him. Fuck this guy, you snarled in your mind whenever you even caught a glance of him coming out the cockpit. Though those words became a literal fuck me real quick after a long flight.

You prayed with a hazy mind and hands bracing on the wall of the narrow toilet in the plane that no one was outside, body bouncing with the force of Caleb’s thrusts from behind you. “Y-you’re going too fast, what if someone hears?” You stammered between uneven breaths mingling with moans, unable to make yourself care much for your surroundings despite your concerned words, earning a scoff from the man making your legs quiver from behind.

“The only thing someone’s gonna hear is your fucking moans if you keep talking, sweetheart,” Caleb grunted with a hoarse chuckle, jaw clenched soon after with stuttering his hips stuttering into your sloppy cunt, velvety walls tightening around him like a silky vice.

He was in awe of his own self-control whenever he sunk his achingly hard cock back into your pussy, feeling your insides fluttering around him to accommodate his length stretching you out. The man couldn’t help but lean forward at this one specific clench, hand slamming against the wall ahead of you just above one of your own trembling hands.

“She’s so hungry for my cum, isn’t she, baby? Making it so hard for me to hold back with all that clenching..,” he murmured softly just behind your ear, though it was more like he was talking to your pussy with how he was punctuating his every word with a thrust, his body leaning down close to you with ease due to his tall height. He buried himself further into your warm heat with a squelch, the lewd mix of his pre-cum and your arousal. He felt a jolt of desire when you only clamped down on him harder in response, making him exhale a chuckle and quicken his pace, bringing you and himself closer to the edge.

“Ooh, fuck, now you’re feeling it, aren’t you? About to make a biiig fucking mess on my cock like a dirty slut,” he drawled cruelly with an initial growl, head dipped into your shoulder with your hand on your hip only tightening to hold you in place. Every plow of his cock inside your needy cunt filled the small room, the sound of skin against skin surely to reach the ears of those close by.

True to Caleb’s words, you sobbed a moan of pleasure, knees falling weak and unstable as your orgasm overwhelmed you, creaming all over his cock, making a mess that began to drip on the floor. Regardless of your recent climax, Caleb showed no signs of stopping, your pleasure only feeding his desperate desire to reach that high with you, to fill you up, mark you for the rest of the next flight until he could have you again. In time, his balls drew up tight, one last surge forward before he stilled and pumped his seed into your tight channel, painting those velvet walls white with his essence.

“Ungh.. Think I just made you even warmer than you already were, princess,” Caleb laughed weakly, forehead resting against your shoulder, big hand on your hip the only support you had to keep standing. “.. Oh, fuck you,” you huffed between pants, head hung low to catch your breath and recompose yourself from the intense pounding he’s given you ever since the plane landed and the passengers unloaded. “Yeah, you sure did,” he scoffed with a grin, leaning in with a pull from your stomach to sneak a kiss onto your cheek. He leaned away once more before you could gain the energy to scold him further, slowly pulling out of your used hole, leaving it full empty with nothing but oozing cum.

He reached out for the toilet roll nearby, grabbing a thick bunch of tissue to clean your wet inner thighs and wiping your slick folds with little effort, not wanting to truly clean you up of his cum yet. Besides, you were too tired to notice at the moment, so he pulled your panties up, tugging your skirt back down as he helped you take your hands off the walls to stand up straight.

After a proper few minutes of insisted aftercare by Caleb, you two were outside of the bathroom again, readying yourselves to leave the aircraft for your next respective flights. Once this experience ended, you thought that maybe sharing a flight with him wasn’t so bad. Well, maybe until you began to feel his cum beginning to drip down onto your panties while you were walking.

[tanadrin]

@grimogretricks

For people saying that airport security is wholly theatre and that it doesn't do any good- certainly it seems they've gone overboard on certain things, but what is your explanation as to why hijackings and terrorist attacks involving planes are MUCH less common than they used to be?

Sorry that this is mostly off the dome, and has less references than I would like. We argued this stuff to death in the aughts, though ultimately the political incentives in favor of security theater were just too great. Everyone is terrified of the potential backlash of not being seen to do enough in advance of the next big terrorist attack, I guess. And to be clear, we are talking mostly about post-9/11 airport security measures as being security theater. Some degree of airport security has been necessary since people started getting on airplanes with guns and informing the pilot that, hey, guess what, we're going to Cuba instead of Miami today.

But the big reduction in airplane hijackings came with the institution of metal detectors to keep guns off airplanes after a couple high-profile hijackings in the 1970s. But remember that these incidents were of a very different character than what we now think of as the risk to airplanes: they were certainly a problem, but the modus operandi of hijackers in this era was to force the plane to fly to a non-extradition country and land safely. 9/11-style hijackings, that used the plane as a bomb and killed everyone aboard, were on nobody's radar--when the goal was blowing up the plane and killing passengers, bombers generally used bombs planted in checked baggage, which requires different security measures from passenger screening.

Two security changes occurred after 9/11 that made future such hijackings basically impossible: one, probably most importantly, was that passengers understood they no longer could count on hijackers having an interest in surviving the hijacking. This change in passenger behavior was immediate: later that same year when a guy tried to bomb an airplane (using a really ineffective device hidden in his shoe) passengers immediately acted to restrain him. The second important change was reinforcing cockpit doors and keeping them locked: this makes hijacking airplanes with knives (the only major modality left to most would-be hijackers) functionally impossible.

All the other intense passenger screening and security measures implemented after 9/11 has been repeatedly shown by security researchers to be pretty ineffective, not even very reliable at stuff like keeping knives off airplanes. For years after 9/11 there were endless news stories about law enforcement running drills at airports and weapons making their way through security. A lot of later security measures, like liquid limits in carry-on baggage, came from terrorist plots that didn't even make it off the drawing board (and are unlikely to have ever worked anyway), and seem mostly to be overzealous ass-covering by transportation security officials.

And, finally, we should note that the real security threats to airplanes in the post-9/11 era seem to have come come from two sources that are basically impossible to protect against using traditional security methods, and for which passenger-based security screening is useless: anti-aircraft missiles and suicidal pilots (plus an honorable mention to aircraft companies trying to skirt certain regulatory requirements).

Despite what decades of American media would have you believe, elaborate plots targeting transportation infrastructure and involving like a dozen people are actually not at the top of the list of terrorist methodologies--why time and money training members of your organization to fly planes into buildings, when you can just use social media to convince a guy to drive a car into a crowd of bystanders, or stab somebody on the street? It's much cheaper, and much, much harder to guard against. Random lone-wolf terrorism is, unlike the kind of elaborate plots portrayed on TV, and one-off real-life examples like 9/11, basically impossible for security services to guard against in advance. But in order to justify the war on terror, and large budgets for security services on anti-terrorism grounds, it was necessary to play up the threat of such plots, even if by its very nature 9/11 was impossible to repeat. For similar reasons, the post-9/11 era also played up the threat of Islamic extremism and large overseas terrorist networks, even though far-right extremists acting in small groups also have managed to kill huge numbers of people in spectacular ways.

So for all these reasons, and those noted at the top, the political incentives around transportation security means that passenger screening measures in airports are almost guaranteed to be a one-way ratchet, even if they don't work. It's a bit like the fabled anti-tiger amulet--it's easy to say the lack of tigers is proof it's working! Even if the real reason there are no tigers about is that you live in Ohio. The media environment post-War on Terror helped create a public appetite for and approval of such anti-tiger amulets, too, of course. This was not by any means a purely top-down phenomenon.

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, mech!ghost x pilot!reader, scifi, noncon/dubcon elements, guided masturbation, temperature play, voyeurism - 1.6K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Another long night in the cockpit.

You could only grin and bear it at this point. Reaching compatibility with your assigned vessel was slowly eating away at your psyche- and worst of all, you couldn’t even leave; not when your prospected affinity levels with the infamous machine had been deemed unprecedented, and certainly not when you knew what happened to deserters.

Conscription was non-negotiable these days; the large colony you had grown up in now ravaged by some otherworldly force and desperately bleeding out resources in response, be it weaponry, rations, or bodies.

The faction had been gifted the GH-05t Mech as an act of goodwill, but ask any official and you’d be informed that the powerful, unused machine would serve better as scrap parts- the real kicker being that they were no longer equipped with the resources or the manpower to dismantle the damned thing. 

GH-05t was a battle vessel; had been lauded as a ground-breaker and a boundary-pusher with the integration of an intelligent battle protocol system, all trained posthumously off the stored memories of some long-dead pilot, surely without his consent- Simon, they had named it in an attempt to make it more user friendly and assistant-like in nature.

Hubris. The system failed to run, turning the fully-functional mech into a glorified mountainous paperweight due to all of the instrumental functions being locked behind unresponsive intelligence. You speculated that the machine had passed hands to save face- to keep the public hopeful despite the system refusing to wake up.

-Wake up. You groaned, slapping lightly at your face.

You hated it here, longing for lazy days on the bleak outer walls, surrounded by the buzz of cicadas and rustling long grass as you waited for your father to get back from the drillsite. Your parents had been so proud when officials showed up at your dilapidated front porch, neat suits, shining eyes, and big smiles blissfully ignoring the very same surroundings they had left to rot;  all while you reeled internally- shaken by the worst news you had received in your life. It was a death sentence. 

It had been years since that day, and you were absolutely sure you had only been given a position like this because of some made-up numbers all while they tried to remind you that you were special, somehow different from your peers.

All damned to the same fate in your eyes.

“-load of shit.” you hissed, rubbing at the uncomfortable neuro-valve hooked into the back of your flight suit. Frustrated, you kicked at the mechanical console snug against your leg, the low rumbling whirr of the machine staying the same in response- apathetic to your misdirected rage. 

A moment passed before you finally leaned back in your seat with a grimace.

You still weren’t used to the flight suits in the mech pilot regs. You almost missed the starchy cargo pants that were worn throughout training- both had been unbearably stiff, but at least the latter hadn’t been so form-fitting.It always freaked you out a bit; the pilot suits were more akin to sleek exodermis, responsive and shock absorbent- It felt wrong to have something so foreign covering your entire body; unnatural. 

Your hips squirmed in the seat, friction suddenly becoming apparent the more you thought about it. The low tone of your monitored vitals raised gradually with the fuzzy heat beginning to shamefully pool in your gut; making you all too glad these late night bonding-sessions were done in an all but abandoned mech bay- your observed progress dwindling along with your prospects as time went on without result. 

Grinding into the seat, you swallowed back the thick saliva coating your mouth, teeth catching on your dry bottom lip as you held back a low, audible shudder; eyes fluttering shut. 

The bulky panel separating your legs became all too appealing as you acknowledged the press of it at your sealed cunt, nudging your apex into the blunt peak while your gloved hands curled around the padding of the built-in armrests.

Then, there was a pulse at your core. 

Eyes snapping open, you became all too aware that the sensation hadn’t come from your body. Straightening up in your seat you were met with a dull blinking text on the panel that had never been there before- 

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: LOADING’

You were rooted in place as you witnessed the glowing, digital bar slowly fill.

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: ONLINE’

You scrambled to pull at the neuro-valve connecting your suit to the mech, only for the small port’s flight locks to engage; a stark hiss emitting from the cockpit door’s airlock.

“Disengage locks.” you commanded, completely lost on what was happening. 

There was a low, fractured robotic groan directly in your comms “-Fuck…” the voice was deep, aggressively masculine and breathy in your ear- the sound holding more human emotion than you were prepared to rationalize. “Where am I?”

“-Disengage locks.” you repeated firmly. 

“The fuck is this?” he snarled, apparently coming to as he barked out questions, disoriented. “-Who are you- why are you in m’head- Fuck, why can’t I see?” 

Your suit was flexing and constricting, going haywire in the confusion. “C-calm down!” you stuttered, a pendulum in your head swinging between gripping dread and the low, heady heat of unmet needs. “Just-Just let me see if I can fix this.” 

Panting shakily, you swiped at the flight panel’s screen- spotting something containing the words ‘optical’ and ‘sensors’, you tapped frantically.

There was an audible wince deep in your ear, then a growling hum met with silence.

“M'dead, aren’t I?”

“-You’re a memory bank- not a person.” you asserted, clarification necessary when it came to a massive mobile death machine. ”C-Can you lay off the suit, please?”

A pulsing wave passed the length of your suit as he listened to your embarrassed response over the comms, the sound of his voice bouncing around in your head. “Fuck, bet tha’ feels nice, yeah?”

A whine bubbled at your lips before you could stop it. “I- You’re not l-listening, Simon.” 

There was a long silence following your plea- air electric and tense.

“Tha’ name- How do you know it?”

“N-not the point!” you argued, only to be met with a full body squeeze- a threat. “-It’s the name of the o-operating system! P-please!”

He relented, your chest heaving as your muscles released tension.

“Well, if you an'I are so close...”

The screen flashed with a notice. 

‘[Main Cockpit Camera Feed - Status: Active]’

Followed by another

‘[Manual Override - Feed Transmission Blocked]’

“-Keep things between us, yeah?” 

Your head swivelled around to look for a camera, landing on a lackadaisical red blink coming from right above the reinforced windshield.

“You're a sight, aren’t you?" listening closely, you could hear the audible scroll of the lens focusing.

You frowned. “Let me out-”

You gasped as a cold heat focused at your core, reminding you that your suit’s temperature regulating measures were completely under his control. “-No need for fuss, we were just getting t’know each other.”

“Th…” you paused, panting softly. “-This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What’s not to get, Love?” there was a pause as your seat adjusted forward, bumping your cunt into the console. “Give us a show, yeah?”

You whimpered in response, pressure unbearable.

“Look at you.” he snarled, the deep sound goading your rocking hips onward. “Fuck- Wish I could taste you…”

There was a small noise from the screen that had your heavy lids pulling upwards- database bringing up the low-res file of a soldier. 

“-Look at the man doing this to you, love.” 

Your lips parted, eyebrows drawing downwards in confusion as you looked at the attached image; a masked man with voids for pupils staring back at you.

“Y-You’re not-” you gasped as a concentrated cold rushed your breast, nipples pearling up uncomfortably at the sensation- the friction of your undergarments and the newly dropping temperatures sending your head soaring as your hips worked at grinding into the blunt metal. ”-not r-real.”

“-I am.” His voice was a sharp, humorous growl that threatened you to challenge his word, followed by a single deep laugh. “Eyes up- on me, love.”

Your head bobbed as you glanced lazily at the file, unable to make any sense of the written data- not that it mattered anyway.

“Think you can finish for me?”

The suit pulsed rhythmically as you practically humped your seat with eyes screwed shut, the humiliation of your current position itching at something unfamiliar deep in your abdomen. With flushed cheeks, you chased the bubbling pot that made a home in your gut; willing it to boil over.

 “Look at me.” he ordered. “Need y'to look at me.” 

Glancing at the screen in a haze, the exomuscles of your suit flexed in response.

“No- Up.”

your head shot towards the camera, holding contact with the whirring lens as the overstimulation finally became too much- pussy fluttering in euphoria with elbows bracing you, hips pathetically grinding out the high. 

Struggling to catch your breath, you slumped back into the chair- gears adjusting your seat back into a comfortable position.

“Good.” the voice in your ear barked, before lowering incrementally. “-Good…”

The screen lit up with a notice that compatibility requirements had been met- although it didn't mean much to you in your state; chest heaving slowly while you tried to make sense of what happened. 

“Gonna’ let you out- but this has got to stay our secret, yeah?” 

You swallowed, eyelids tugging open as your suit tensed in warning.

“How copy?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good,” he paused. “-don't need anyone but you poking around up here.”

[scarletmika]

One Last Gift : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary: Living with Bob Floyd was killing you slowly, especially when you couldn't bring yourself to admit how you felt about him. It's your birthday, though, and shouldn't the birthday girl get whatever it is she wants?

Warnings: insane amounts of fluff, insane amounts of pining (my god I couldn't stop), roommates to lovers, language, female reader, suggestive and steamy, language, Hangman being Hangman (but he's a good guy underneath), probably incorrect descriptions of the Navy (my dad was a Marine, I'm doing my best lol)

Word Count: 6,060 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

“Living with Bob Floyd is actually ruining my life,”

It was an exaggeration on your part..for the most part. When the Dagger Squad had been asked to stay on assignment in North Island for the foreseeable future, the entire group jumped at the chance. In those few short weeks together, especially when you’re training for a mission many deemed entirely impossible to come back alive from, you quickly become a family, and no one was ready to leave one another. But staying for a prolonged period meant, inevitably, moving off base would be better for everyone’s mental sanity. The Dagger Squad might be like a family, but even families get on one another’s nerves more often than not.

Somehow, when discussing where everyone was moving to and how far from base everyone would live, you and Bob had agreed to move in together.

The decision shocked no one. Truly, the entire team suspected that if anyone was going to live together, it would be you two. You and Bob were like birds of a feather from the second you met that night in the Hard Deck. 

“Well, well, well,” Jake Seresin was nothing if not a cocky bastard most of the time. He shoved his pool cue over into your hands, an action that got an eyeroll out of you “If it ain’t Phoenix! Coyote, Naiad, here I was thinking we were special. Turns out…the invite went to anyone.”

Natasha stepped up to the pool table, eyebrow raised, with two men behind her. You quickly handed the pool cue off to Coyote as she squared off with Jake before you both.

“Fellas,” she addressed the boys behind her. “This here is Bagman-”

“-Hangman-”

“-whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re looking at the only Naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”

Hangman waved his hand in the air, pretending to act humble, before attempting to speak. You cut him off, hand on his shoulder with a smirk of your own as you looked at the boys standing behind Nat.

“Mind you, it was a museum piece from the Cold War. And if I hadn’t laid cover for him, he’d have been dead before he could even take the shot,” Jake looked like he was considering protesting your statement, but ultimately shrugged in agreement. You looked from the boys to Natasha, a smile lighting up your face. “Good to see you, Nix.”

“You too, Naiad,” she quickly pulled you into a side hug, arm still slung around your shoulders as she gestured to the boys behind her. “This here is Payback and Fanboy. Boys, this is Naiad. One of the best pilots I’ve ever known, in and out of the cockpit, and the only one who can keep Hangman’s head out of his ass sometimes.”

“Hey-”

“Naiad?” Hangman’s protest was cut off by Payback’s questioning glance toward you. “Isn’t that, like, a water nymph or something?”

“She got her callsign during one of our brief assignments at Boca Chica Field in Key West, Florida,” Coyote threw him, amusement on his face as he shook his head at the memory. “Couldn’t keep that girl out of the water even if you tried.”

“In Coyote and Hangman’s defense,” you quickly jumped in, sending a wink back at your two best friends. “They tried…desperately, but to no avail.”

Laughter rang through the group at the comment, before Natasha pointed off to the side of the pool table.

��Now, who is he?”

The group's eyes followed Natasha’s pointer finger to the man sitting quietly off to the side. He held an entire cup of peanuts in his hand, wiping the excess shells to the floor as he looked around at the group now looking at him, adjusting the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

“When did you get in?” Coyote questioned.

“O-Oh I’ve been here the whole time,”

Everyone missed the small quirk of your lips when the man finally spoke, that slight twinge of southern in his accent carrying through the air as he nervously glanced around the group.

“Man is a stealth pilot…literally,” Hangman commented as your hand flew up, whacking him across the shoulder. The mystery man shook his head.

“Weapons systems officer, actually,”

“...with no sense of humor,” another whack to Hangman’s shoulder had him looking to you with wide eyes. “Can you quit it with that? Your hand is going to be imprinted on my shoulder at this point.”

“Then quit being a dick for two seconds,” you diverted your attention back to the groups new WSO with a grin. “So, what do they call you?”

He sent you a shy smile, adjusting himself on his chair again with a small nod.

“Bob,” and when Payback questioned him about his callsign, Bob seemed to hesitate for a moment before repeating again “...just Bob,”

“Bob Floyd?” Natasha spoke up again as you turned, plucking the pool cues from Coyote once more before turning back to the conversation again. “You’re my new backseater? From Lemoore?”

“Seems like it,”

“Well, let’s break him in then,” you’d chimed in, stepping up to Bob and holding out a pool cue in his direction. “Any good at pool, Floyd?”

He seemed to sit up straighter, mirroring your smile with a nod of his head.

“Pretty decent, I’d say, Naiad”

“9-ball then. Rack ‘em for me,”

It felt like that day had been years ago, when it had only been the culmination of maybe six months. Bob and you had naturally drifted to one another, almost always engaged in a conversation or sharing a beer during a night at the Hard Deck. It helped that you were the only one who was able to get Hangman to back off him most days, something Bob appreciated.

Living with Bob was great. He was one of your best friends at this point. Kind, respectful, deceivingly hilarious, but there was one problem.

You were hopelessly in love with him, and you refused to say anything about it.

You’d kept mainly quiet about it…for the most part. The only ones who knew officially about your feelings for Natasha, Javy, and Jake, as it was impossible to hide it from your best friends. But it had been months, and as the entire squad gathered in your and Bob’s shared ground-floor apartment to celebrate your birthday, you were slowly losing the restraint you were holding onto to keep it under wraps.

“Living with him is ruining your life because you’re being a baby about it,”

Natasha and Javy laughed at the comment from Hangman, the four of you currently sitting around the fire pit in the small backyard that your apartment held the luxury of having. The rest of the squad, including Maverick and Penny, were currently crowded inside somewhere, most likely the living room, while the four of you had migrated outside for a private conversation.

“I’m not being a baby about it!” you’d argued back, taking a swig of your beer and savoring the taste as you threw Hangman a pointed look. “I’m going to ruin everything if I say something, but living together is torture. One-sided feelings aren’t fun, Bagman.”

“Oh, Naiad, you’re so clueless,” Coyote was the one to laugh out the words, clinking his own beer bottle against Natasha’s outstretched one. “You’re both hopelessly in love with each other.”

Your three best friends shared a laugh, but you, in turn, were frozen trying to process his words. It sounded absurd in your head, to think that this was anything more than you pining after your best friend, your coworker, your roommate. There was no way it could be anything more than one-sided..

“You guys are ridiculous-”

“No, Coyote is entirely right,” Natasha sat forward in her chair, giving you a pointed look. “Let’s take a walk down memory lane, okay? When you called me after living with Bob for less than two weeks, that day you both came back from the complex’s pool?”

For a hot summer Saturday, your apartment complex’s pool was deserted, but you relished in it. You got your pick of chairs for sunbathing, and you didn’t have to share any of the cool water with the kids who lived down the hall from you. It even allowed you to blow up your favorite in pool lounger and float around in the cool breeze, the water nipping at your exposed skin around your favorite bikini, and simply soak in the sun.

“What a shock, my waterbug is in the water,”

At the sound of a voice just feet away outside the pool, you lifted the sunglasses off your face, squinting in the brightened light. Bob stood just at the edge of the pool, donning his swim trunks that you’d seen countless times at Coronado Beach with your friends, along with the t-shirt he typically wore to the beach, too. You shot him a small smile, flicking some of the water in his direction as he laughed. You hoped the red in your skin from the sun would cover the blush that was surely spreading through your cheeks at his simple use of the word “my” in front of his favorite nickname for you: waterbug.

“The rest of the complex doesn’t seem to want to take advantage of the sun, so why not claim the pool for myself?”

“Or is it because you can’t seem to stay away from the water?”

“You going to stand there and bust my non-existent balls or join me in the pool, Floyd?”

As Bob laughed and promised he’d be in the water momentarily, you shifted your sunglasses back to their place in front of your eyes. That also happened to be the exact moment Bob Floyd had, for some reason, decided to take his shirt off.

In all the time you’d known him thus far, in all the beach trips you’d been on with him, Bob Floyd kept his shirt on, even as your mutual friends seemed to gang up on him for it. You’d, of course, fantasized at night (and sometimes in daydreams) about what might be hiding under there, because there’s no way he wasn’t at least slightly jacked given that he was in the Navy, but you hadn’t been prepared fully to see it for yourself.

Bob Floyd wasn’t nearly as jacked as Jake and Bradley were, but he didn’t need to be. He was lean, his muscles clearly defined, and the strain in his biceps as he tore his shirt off was enough for you to think that maybe you needed to slide completely into the water and cool yourself off for multiple reasons.

“I see why you keep your shirt on at the beach now, Floyd,” you remarked, trying to cover the feeling crawling through you with a cough and a joke, leaning your head back against your pool float again and closing your eyes. “You’d probably have all the ladies on the beach after you if you did.”

You’d heard a faint laugh from him before the pool got quiet…too quiet. That’s when Bob took off running, and before you knew it, he’d cannonballed straight into the pool, soaking you with the chlorinated water as he went. You sputtered, taking your glasses off and throwing them toward your chair with your bag on the outside of the pool.

“BOB!” you’d called out with a small laugh, still wiping water from your face as you glanced around to get a glimpse of him. By the time you realized you couldn’t see him, and what that meant, it was already too late. Your pool float had been flipped, dunking you entirely into the pool without a moment's notice.

By the time you’d resurfaced from the water, slicking your hair back and coughing, Bob was in hysterics from where he floated in front of you. That fluttering feeling in your stomach was pushed to the back of your mind now as you smirked across the water at him.

“What, my waterbug can’t handle some water?”

“Oh, you’re asking for it Floyd!” you’d called back before tackling him, both of you falling back into the water in another round of hysterics.

Even the mere thought of that day, of the moment you’d see Bob without his shirt for the first time, was enough to bring the blush back to your cheeks. Natasha noticed, laughing as she pointed it out to the boys.

“See! You’re blushing as bad as I know you were when you called me that day!”

“Okay, this doesn’t prove anything! We’ve established I already like him-”

“Oh no, it proves he likes you, too,” Coyote shot back with a smirk. “Rooster is his best friend, and he won’t even take his shirt off around HIM! I haven’t seen him take it off once, so obviously…either he trusts you enough to show off what he’s hiding under there, or he’s deliberately showing off what he’s got because he wants you to notice it.”

What they were saying…it wasn’t hard to believe, at least not if your friends were talking about anyone else but you and Bob. For some reason, it just didn’t seem possible to you that Bob felt the same way for you that you did for him. Wouldn’t he have surely done something by now, have taken the leap that you were too scared to take?

“Guys-”

“Can’t forget the night you made him dinner,” Coyote interrupted again, his smirk growing at the confused look on your face. “Come on, don’t tell me you forgot? The second Bob was on base the next morning, and you split off to head to the gym, he was talking Rooster’s ear off about it. I swear, there were literal hearts in this man’s eyes as he talked about you.”

It was rare that you managed to get a day off during the middle of the week, but somehow it had worked out for you. A very rare Wednesday that you got to spend keeping up on the household chores that neither you nor Bob wanted to deal with come the weekend, saving it for when you were both exhausted and sweating from the San Diego heat late at night. Grocery shopping for your shared kitchen, loading and unloading multiple loads of laundry for both of you, whatever you could do so that Bob would have an easy night when he got home.

Unlike you, he hadn’t gotten a single day off that week.

There was a new batch of young pilots, and Cyclone and Warlock decided that the Dagger Squad was the best choice for teaching them. With Maverick, Rooster, Coyote, and Hangman all being single-seater pilots, you were the lucky one who’d gotten a rare day off. And with a single text from Bob that night, letting you know he’d be back at the apartment soon, you knew exactly the best way to cheer him up after a long day in the sun.

The first day you moved into your apartment together, and the rest of the team celebrated with you, you had cooked for the entire team. Homemade spaghetti, just like your mother used to make growing up. Homemade pasta, homemade tomato sauce, you name it, and the dish had it. The entire team had adored it, but Bob had sung it’s praises over and over again the entire night.

Being entirely homemade, it was NOT an easy dish to whip up at any point in time, so you hadn’t made it again…until now.

“Hey, I’m back!”

“In the kitchen!” you’d called back the second you heard Bob’s voice from the entryway and the familiar shutting of the front door to the apartment. The sauce was heating up, the pasta was boiling, and it left you simply standing off to the side, leaning against the countertop as Bob entered.

He was exhausted, and it was written clearly across his face. He’d already changed into his casual clothes, and judging by his slightly damp hair, he must have showered on base before coming home. A small smile was shot your way before he was digging through the fridge.

“Be glad you had the day off,” he’d grumbled out, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and almost chugging half of it in an instant. “Those newbies…god, they didn’t know how to listen today. Even Hangman was playing bad cop instead of good cop.”

“Well, that’s how you know it’s a bad day,” you shared a laugh at that. “I did the grocery shopping this morning, so we’re fully stocked up until at least next week. The laundry was all done, too. Your basket is sitting outside your door currently.”

Bob paused at that, just staring at you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher hidden somewhere in his eyes.

“I...you didn’t need to do that. Thank you,” the pair of you shared a soft smile as Bob turned away, shaking his head, and he pulled his phone out. “I haven’t gotten a chance to eat yet, though. Probably going to Doordash something-”

“No need, food will be done in a minute,” he turned back to you as you said that, but you’d already turned back, stirring the pasta noodles in the boiling hot pot on the stove before you. “Pasta should be done in just a minute, and there’s fresh garlic bread keeping warm in the oven.”

“You...you made me…” your cheeks flared for a moment, hearing the way Bob stumbled over his words behind you somewhere in the kitchen. “Is that…your mom’s homemade pasta?”

“I figured it had probably been a long day for you, and I know how much you liked it last time. If you grab us both drinks, I can have this done and on the table in a little bit,”

Silence enveloped the kitchen for a moment before a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. A chill immediately shot down your spine as you froze. Bob’s hands gripped your sides, pulling you back into him as the side of his head leaned against yours, and you faltered for just a second while stirring the boiling food before you. The unmistakable feel of lips pressed against the side of your head, and heat immediately shot through your body at the simple action.

“Thank you…”

“...anytime,”

Okay, that memory made you feel a little different, had yet another flush coating your skin, redness deepening. You’d only been living together for two months when you’d made him dinner that night…but that was just the first night of many.

Cooking dinner together became a new normal for both of you, almost always discussing what you wanted to eat night after night. Gone were the nights of eating separately, of having separate grocery lists; that night had set forth a new normal for you, one that you were constantly navigating together. Thinking back, it was also the night when so much changed over the course of your entire relationship with Bob.

Movie nights where you sat just a little closer together than you needed to, sharing a blanket. Those movie nights that ended in you both falling asleep together on the couch, moments you hurried through the next day, and tried not to dwell on what they could or couldn’t mean. The way you ordered for one another at the Hard Deck after that, the other’s usual memorized. And if you didn’t want the usual, it was like you could read one another’s minds.

Had you overlooked so many signs?

“Hey, losers!” it was Bradley Bradshaw, leaning against the doorway of the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, the setting sun washing over the barren yard. His presence interrupted the laughter and hushed conversation shared between Coyote and Phoenix. “Come on, cake time for the birthday girl before we get the movie going.”

You’d nodded, but your mind was elsewhere. Even as Natasha and Javy reentered your apartment to join everyone else. You were staring off into space, trying to fully comprehend what your friends had said, before you looked to Hangman. Your best friend, your confidant since the day you’d met him (no matter how much of an ass he tended to be), simply waiting for you to speak from across the firepit with a smile on his face.

“Have I really been oblivious?”

“Baby-on-board doesn’t tell me about his deep, hidden feelings…but from what I’ve seen, yes,” Jake laughed, rising to his feet as he looked down at you. “Look, Naiad, you’re my best friend. Hell, you’re basically my little sister. Feelings are scary, I should know, that’s why I don’t do relationships. But you and Bobby boy…god, you two need to just knock that wall down and jump each other’s bones already.”

Somehow, Hangman always knew what you needed, and in that moment, you really did need a laugh. You shook your head at him, rising to your own feet and taking his now-empty beer bottle from him, tossing his and yours into the outdoor bin.

“Thanks, Jake. Sometimes, it seems like you really do have a heart,”

“Don’t let the others know that, I’ve got a reputation,” he slung an arm around your shoulder, dragging you back into your own apartment. “And please, don’t thank me until you two finally get laid.”

It was the perfect night, and there was truly no one else that you would’ve rathered spend your birthday with than these people that had become more than friends, more than coworkers, but family.

Fanboy and Payback had placed a sad, dollar-store party hat on your head, positioning you at the head of the dining room table. There was a reason they were all Navy pilots, because not a single one of them could sing well, and it reminded you that you’d need to personally apologize to your neighbors the next day for what probably sounded like dying whales in your apartment.

You’d simply laughed at the group’s terrible rendition of ‘Happy Birthday,’ watching as Bob and Natasha brought out the large cake they had personally decorated just for you tonight. You’d slotted yourself into Bob’s side as they sang without a care in the world, leaning your head against him before blowing out your candles to yet another round of applause and cheers. Bob didn’t seem to mind, his arm simply winding around your waist and holding you to his side.

Your conversation with Natasha, Javy, and Jake hung in the back of your mind, even as you’d all settled into your small living room to enjoy a movie together after saying a final goodbye to Maverick and Penny for the night. An argument broke out between which of your favorite movies to watch, Beauty and the Beast or The Heat, as you settled onto the loveseat beside Bob, who immediately draped your favorite blanket across both of your laps. Almost unanimously, Beauty and the Beast was chosen, seemingly just to piss off Jake who moaned and groaned that he’d ‘watched it enough with you’ before.

It was that conversation with your friends that replayed in your mind halfway through the movie when your hand reached out under the blanket, interlocking your fingers with Bob’s. If he minded, he didn’t say, simply allowed it to happen and squeezed your hand back, unaware of the blush stretching across your cheeks just as a similar one crossed his.

And when was was said and done, the clock striking 11 p.m. that night, your friends had all filed out with a final goodbye to you both. And just like that, you and Bob were left alone in the comfort of your own home together again. This time, though, the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, your pining wasn’t one-sided was stuck at the forefront of your mind.

Bob washed the dishes in the sink as you dried them, conversing quietly together, stolen looks happening from both sides as you both remained oblivious to the other.

The words were practically hanging off your tongue, and you had to bite them back every time you looked at him and caught him already looking at you. It was your birthday, after all, and if there was one thing you truly wanted to celebrate this day, it was Bob Floyd. You wanted him in every conceivable way, you had since those first few weeks of knowing him, and you knew after the revelations you’d come through tonight with your friends that you could never go back to ignoring your feelings again after tonight.

By the time the clock read 11:30, the dishes were done, and you and Bob both stood quietly in the hallway outside of your bedroom doors, simply looking at one another. The only light flooding the hallway came from the moon shining through the curtains down the hall, but something between you both felt different. Electric. Tense. Charged.

“Thank you for everything today,” you’d whispered out, afraid to speak too loudly in the quiet of the night.

“Of course…you deserved it,” Bob’s answer had been easy, but you could see it. The hesitation at the end, like there was more he wanted to say, but he stopped himself before he could.

You wanted to say more, too. You wanted to profess it all, everything you’d been feeling for months, everything boiling over inside of you. It was dying to come out, dying to know the truth: was this one-sided? Did he feel the same?”

“Goodnight, baby-on-board,” was what you said instead, a small tease woven through your voice.

He’d laughed lightly, a sound you adored more than you cared to admit.

“Goodnight, Naiad. Happy birthday,”

Sleep didn’t come to you. It had been 10, 15, maybe 20 minutes, who knew. But you couldn’t sleep, you simply tossed and turned until you were left staring up at your ceiling in the dead of night, wrapped in the blanket that was soft as a feather that Bob had bought you.

Bob. He’d invaded every single one of your thoughts, not that he was ever NOT in your thoughts, and it was driving you so insane you knew there was no sleeping this off.

Padding back into the kitchen, you left every light off. Instead you stood in the dark, facing your cabinets as you drank a cool glass of water in an attempt to calm yourself down, illuminated only by the lights of the oven and microwave clocks.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You’d frozen in place, whipping around to see Bob leaning against the doorway of the kitchen…shirtless, only in his boxers.

If your throat could’ve gone drier at the sight, it would’ve. The only saving grace you had was the fact that the lights were off, and you could just barely see the outline of his defined muscles in the darkness. It was then that you suddenly realized you were also standing in the kitchen, across from your almost completely naked roommate, in nothing but a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt of your father’s you’d stolen before college.

“Y-yeah…something like that,”

“Same here,” his voice was low, the kind of low that sent a shiver straight down your spine. “I uh…I have a lot on my mind.”

The silence between you seemed to stretch on forever. It was like you both knew where this was heading, like you both knew exactly why the other couldn’t sleep, but neither of you wanted to breach it, neither of you wanted to be the one to cross the line. Or you wanted to, but neither of you knew how to.

“That night…when I made you dinner,” you broached the topic slowly, unsure of where you were even going with this. You wanted to just tell him, but you didn’t know how. “It was…it was very domestic.”

“It was,”

“Do you remember it?”

“Like it was yesterday,”

You paused for a moment, watching his outline in the darkness.

“Do you…do you think about it?”

“All the time,” the way he said it, it was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders the second he let those words leave his lips. “I…I think about you all the time.”

That was all you needed. Confirmation, no matter how small, that Bob Floyd did feel the same way for you that you’d felt for him forever. Letting out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, you glanced toward the clock on the oven: 11:58 p.m., and suddenly a burst of confidence flowed through you.

“You know…it’s still technically my birthday. There’s…one last gift I really wish I’d gotten,”

His silhouette seemed to straighten up at your words, before he was across the kitchen in moments. Right in front of you, illuminated by the oven clock light, you could finally see his face just inches before you. His slightly parted lips, those dilated blue eyes you could get lost in for hours. His fingers just barely brushed over the skin on the outer edge of your thighs, and your own breath hitched as he looked down at you.

“Well…it’d be wrong not to give the birthday girl what she wants,” there was a slight tremor in his voice, a twinge of nervousness, as if this could all come crashing down on you both with one wrong move. “What do you want, Naiad?”

Finally, you’d let what you’d been dying to say finally go tumbling from your lips.

“I just want the WSO I fell in love with months ago to be mine…in whatever way he’ll let me have him,”

Another word didn’t need to be said before Bob’s hands had a hold of your hips, lifting you up onto the counter behind you. A small gasp left your lips at the cold feel of the granite against your bare thighs as your legs spread on instinct, and Bob didn’t waste a second in stepping between them and pressing himself to you. Hands gripping your waist and holding you to him, your hands immediately found him, curling around his shoulders and fingers twisting into his hair as he let out a low groan.

The only sound in the kitchen was the sound of both of you panting. You hadn’t even kissed, and Bob Floyd had you wrecked beyond compare.

“You don’t understand how long I’ve thought about this, about you,” he’d whispered, almost moaned, lips just barely an inch from your own. “If I’d have known…if I’d have listened to Rooster when he told me you felt the same way-”

“We were both oblivious,” you’d laughed out, hands tugging on his hair again just to hear that sweet groan flow out of him again. “We’re here now, though.”

“And if you want me to stop, I need you to tell me now,” the grip of one of his hands on your hip tightened while the other moved down to your thigh, fingers splayed across the bare skin. Bob sounded absolutely wrecked, and it sent a burn of desire straight through you to the core. “If you don’t stop me now, if I kiss you…I’m not going to be able to stop.”

You let one hand leave his hair, instead curling around his jaw to tilt his lips toward yours.

“Good…because I don’t want you to stop,”

Your friends had joked that Bob Floyd was probably a timid lover, that his kisses were probably soft, sweet, passionate, but in the most mundane of ways. Maybe they were right, maybe in public, surrounded by others, that’s how he’d be. But in this moment, with you, the air charged with the anticipation that this had been a long time coming, Bob Floyd’s kiss was anything but timid.

He kissed you with passion, with hunger, with red-hot, burning need embedded in every move of his lips against yours. His vice-like grip was sure to leave a mark across your hip bone, or leave the indents of his fingers splayed across your thigh for days to come. There wasn’t a single centimeter of space left between you both as Bob pulled you straight into him, his bare chest pressed against your front as you begged him in your own head to just get rid of your shirt already. 

You held him back just as closely, hand still wound into his hair as the other left his jaw, trailing down his chest to the sculpted body you’d only seen a handful of times, but dreamed about getting your hands on for months now. A low moan left you the second his lips trailed away from your own, trialing down your jawline and to your neck, a slight hiss of pain for just a second leaving your lips as he bit a mark into your skin, one just high enough it would be impossible to hide from your friends at work.

Marking you, claiming you as his. He didn’t need to, though; you’d been his long before this moment, he just didn’t know it.

“Take me to bed,” you’d just barely managed to whisper out, tugging is lips back to yours. “Make me yours.”

“You already are,” he’d whispered back before pressing another bruising kiss to your lips. And in a show of incredible strength that flooded your core with another burn of desire, Bob had swept you into his arms, navigating throughout your shared home with precision, before he’d brought you over the threshold of his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him with just his foot.

A night that felt like a dream. That, truly, if not for waking up in Bob Floyd’s arms the next morning, you’d have believed it was just another dream of yours.

Sunlight streamed through the crack in Bob’s curtains as you’d opened your eyes, head resting on his bare chest. His thin comforter just barely covered both of your bare bodies, letting the cool, San Diego morning air of the open window ghost over your skin. Bob’s arm was wound around your body, drawing a circle along the skin of your back. You shifted in his arms in order to sit up and fully look at him, that delicious ache in your bones and muscles an indicator that, no, last night wasn’t a dream.

“Hi,” you’d whispered out the second you had your eyes on him, mirroring the smile he already had on his face as he ran a hand through his messy up hair.

“Hi back,”

A giggle escaped you at the deep sound of his voice so early in the morning. You leaned over him, wincing slightly at that ever-present ache in your muscles, grabbing his glasses and slotting them back onto his face with a grin.

“There’s my handsome pilot-”

“I love you,” he’d murmured, cheeks heating red instantly as another giggle managed to slip past your lips. “I know I said it…a thousand times last night, but I had to say it again. I love you…I’ve loved you for so long, Naiad-”

You cut him off, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. This one differed from all those the night before. Still passionate, but slow. Still needy, but laced with months of hidden love for one another.

“I love you, too,” you muttered back against his lips as you slowly pulled away.

“Let me take you on a date tonight,” he’d immediately said, arms around your waist, tugging you even closer, as if that was possible at this rate. “I’m yours, and you’re mine, but let me do this right. Let me take you out to dinner-”

“Let me stop you right there,” you interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with dinner dates, but I’d prefer if we do something that we don’t already do constantly in our apartment as our first official date.”

Laughter was shared between you both at that comment as Bob nodded his head in agreement.

“An arcade, then. There’s one over on Mission Beach, even has laser tag, and a roller coaster right next to it. Then, my waterbug can run off onto the beach and jump into the ocean like I know she’ll want to,”

My waterbug. His waterbug. It brought another smile to your lips as you leaned in for yet another kiss, a feeling you were sure you’d already grown addicted to.

“Anywhere, anywhere you want. As long as I’m with you, Bob Floyd,”

[uh-i-think-its-frank]

TRADITION

Master!Luke Skywalker x Padawan!Reader

Luke Skywalker is on a mission to rebuild the Jedi Order, using traditional methods, training and ideology from the Jedi Code.

His first ever student makes him question tradition.

slow burn | forbidden love | mild angst | smut MDNI

no use of y/n | AFAB reader | she/her pronouns

set just before the Book of Boba Fett

word count: 14k

masterlist | fic recs | ao3

a/n: this is my first published fic in a very, very long time so constructive criticism is welcomed! I have an idea for an angsty pt. 2 so lmk if u want it hehe

Training under Luke Skywalker was difficult. 

 Despite being a polite and gentle man, his methods of teaching were strict and calculated - each lesson was designed to have a specific outcome and he always made sure she came out of it with the skill and knowledge he intended. This often meant early mornings and late nights, aching muscles and a brain that felt like jelly after focussing on strengthening her connection to the Force. 

 The most difficult part of training under Luke Skywalker, however, was Luke Skywalker himself. 

 She had been new to this galaxy when he found her. She honestly doesn’t quite know how she even managed to get from Earth the planet of Tatooine. It involved her bizarrely finding a broken down ship in the woods near her house and somehow getting taken into space by the inhabitants of said ship, ending up galaxies away and missing the primitive planet Earth. 

 The men that brought her to the desert planet were smugglers, who swore they saved her life because they were certain that whatever debt collectors they had chasing after them would’ve killed her if they knew that she’d seen them. And yet, after many weeks of travelling and not getting along, they just left her on this rock to fend for herself with no knowledge of where she was or how to get home, like true saviours.

 Thankfully, however, due to having to help her kidnappers fix their ship after every firefight they got into, she'd found a talent in mechanics, and managed to get by working for Peli Motto, fixing up whatever rust buckets came through her hangars in Mos Eisley Spaceport. 

 Peli’s hangars were usually home to bounty hunters and smugglers, working for the Bounty Hunters Guild or the Hutts and were just as rough and grimy as you’d expect them to be. And while the odd everyday traveller would come through, it was rarely a special occasion and usually ended with the older woman she called her boss scaring them off with her no-nonsense attitude, always telling it like it is.

 So when a ship landed and Peli stopped mid-curse when she turned and saw the x-wing sitting in her Hangar, back straightening when she saw the pilot, the Earthling woman knew he had to be serious business. 

 She moved to stand beside Peli, watching the lid of the ship lift to reveal who was possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen unbuckling himself from his seat. She found that her own back straightened without realising it as she watched him, clad in black, perfectly fitting robes, pristine black boots and a single gloved hand. She side eyed Peli for any hint or explanation as to who this was and why he seemed so important. 

 Peli caught her gaze but ignored her, boisterously walking over to the ship, welcoming him as the mystery man lifted himself out of the cockpit. 

 His feet hit the ground and he regarded her boss with a polite smile, resting his clasped hands behind his back as he gave her a small bow in thanks.

 She decided to walk out after Peli, moving out from under the shade of the tool shop and into the sunlight of the open hangar. The blonde man's eyes lifted to meet hers, as if knowing she’d been there all along and gave a small nod, a look on his face that seemed almost… determined. Like he had something planned.

 After a while of Peli talking his ear off and offering him any repairs he needed or even a service on his ship free of charge, he finally explained that he was there for a reason. And boy, was it not what she expected. 

 He introduced himself as Luke Skywalker and the young woman shared a look with Peli, eyes wide. She recognised the name from the Holothrillers she and her boss would watch together late at night in the tool shop, as they ate their bland dinners with greasy hands while Peli elaborated on some of the plot points, explaining how the actions in the films had actually affected the rest of the galaxy in real life and where she was and what she was doing when the events happened. 

 The younger woman had quickly grown enamoured by the story, asking Peli a million and one questions about the Empire and Luke Skywalker and she’d since only known him as the farm boy who became a Jedi and defeated the Empire. A Historical figure. A man she’d never meet. And yet, here he was. 

 He explained that he was on a mission to rebuild the Jedi Order, and that he had been searching for others who were Force-sensitive to help rebuild it with him. He said he’d already contacted many. Used the Force to find them and travelled to ask them for their assistance, offering to train them if they needed. But they’d all turned him down. 

 There had been rumours of a band of Inquisitors, Jedi Killers, still on the hunt, despite the Great Jedi Purge ending over 6 standard years ago, not long before the fall of the Empire. This rumour had made the surviving Jedi, Force-users and parents with Force-sensitive children anxious to reveal themselves for fear of their lives. 

 It was an understandable fear, one that the lone Jedi found reasonable. Though, it was tiresome to travel to so many different planets to make the same speech, only to get turned down out of fear. 

 Luke explained that he could feel the Earthlings' connection to the Force. It was distant and lacking strength, but still, there was something there that could be worked upon, that could be strengthened with the correct training. He’d travelled there, to her workplace and makeshift home just to ask her to join him, to train with him and become a Jedi Knight and use her knowledge to train others and keep the Jedi Order alive. To rebuild what was lost to the Dark Side for many years. 

 Maybe it was her ignorance on the matter due to her brief time in this galaxy, or maybe it was simply the desperate look in his beautiful eyes. But after a bit of convincing and advice from Peli to do what she felt was right - she’d accepted his offer.

 The next day, they’d travelled to Ossus where Luke and many builder droids had been and were continuing to build a new Jedi Temple, to be fit with enough rooms and space to train whole generations of Force-sensitive children when the time was right. But for now, the only occupants of the large Temple were just her and her new Master, Luke Skywalker. 

 He’d had servant droids take her measurements and get her fitted for her own set of Padawan robes as well as a whole new wardrobe of sleep and casual attire, suitable for the Temple. And despite being thankful for the new, perfectly-fitted apparel, she fought tooth and nail until the droids finally allowed her to keep her ill-fitting, grease-stained overalls in the back of her wardrobe, only after they had been deep-cleaned. She knew she may never get the chance to wear them again, much to her dismay, but she couldn’t bear to part with them.

 She was a lot older than most Padawan ever were. Most were trained as young children through to adulthood, where they’d be deemed true Jedi Knights by the age she already was, but desperate times called for desperate measures. There were only a handful of Jedi left, after all, and even less who were willing to aid the New Jedi Order. 

 So, in an attempt to make up for lost time, she tried her absolute hardest, diving head-first into her training. She spent her days learning from her Master and her nights in the Temple library, studying the history of her predecessors, staying up much too late and waking up much too early just to do it all over again.

 She was passionate and hardworking, things that she prided herself on. Her work ethic prevailed over anything else… Usually. 

 See, she had an issue. She was great with history. She’d gotten to a point just mere weeks into her training that she could recite a play-by-play of the Clone Wars if asked to, and found herself absolutely enthralled by every piece of information that she absorbed in that library, going through the thickest history books within a single day if she ever got the privilege of having one off - which was rare. But she excelled in this area because she could do it alone.

 Connecting with the Force, physical training or anything else she had to work on with Master Luke was where she struggled. Simply because, well… 

 She found him so distracting. 

 At first, it was nearly unbearable. She would flush every time he would touch her to position her body during training. She'd get caught up thinking about him when she was meant to be meditating. She'd stutter when he'd ask her questions that should've been simple to answer, like how she slept or about the book she’d stayed up too late reading. 

 It was like she was in high school again, crushing over a boy so badly that even the mildest of interactions had her smiling goofily at herself when she lay in bed that night, excited to go to sleep just so she could see him again the next day. But this was worse. Much, much worse. 

 Because not only was this man her teacher, her Master. It was also written, directly into the scriptures that she read every night before she went to sleep.

     A Jedi does not act for personal power or wealth.

But only seeks knowledge and enlightenment.

 This scripture, whilst it encourages selflessness and promotes the importance of preserving the knowledge of not only the Jedi, but the galaxy itself, the things that make up the environment around them, also means something deeper, more complicated. And it’s everywhere - all throughout the Jedi Code.

      There is no emotion, there is peace. 

 When master Luke had first shared the Mantra with her a few weeks ago, and recited the oath she must take, she had asked him to elaborate. To explain every rule she was meant to follow and every promise she had to keep. She’d been excited. Eager to learn more of her new life, and the things that lay within it. 

 But the news had been crushing to her. When she realised that attachment was not frowned upon, not thought of as taboo, but forbidden entirely, she’d gone quiet.

 The thought rolled through her head over and over, until it didn’t sound real anymore and Luke's usually relaxed face fell into a small frown, watching her absorb the information.

”I…” She began, a lump forming in her throat that she had to swallow. “I’m to never get married? … Never have children?” She asked, tears welling in her eyes. 

He was hesitant to respond, able to see, able to feel the sadness within her. The weight of this new knowledge, crushing. He sighed, saddened to have to hurt her further by reconfirming;

“Emotions can cloud our thoughts. These clouds can lead us into unfathomable darkness.” He’d responded, bluntly. “Only those who find a way to rise above the darkness are deemed worthy to become Jedi.”

 It was a hard hurdle to get over, to accept, having always thought of herself as the kind to fall in love, get married and settle down. Become a mother, start a family. Eventually. When she met one who was worthy of her love and her, theirs. 

 But over time, she grew to accept her new way of life. As her connection to the Force grew, so did her understanding of the Dark Side and the necessity of that rule. 

 With her academic knowledge of the Force, her determination and the uphill battle that was shoving her crush down. Way deep, deep down. She began excelling at her training. She was able to meditate fully with little to no distraction, had found their day exercises across the creeks and forests of Ossus easier to handle and she even managed to blush only a little when he touched her body during their hand-to-hand combat lessons. 

 It was now, only in her free time that she found herself thinking of him. After he dismissed her for the day and she was no longer required to have to think of him professionally. It was only in the safety of her quarters, in the dark of night as she lay in bed, that she allowed herself to think of his bare hand touching her skin and the fire she felt in her stomach whenever it did. His chest, warm and inviting, vibrating with his voice as he told her how to position her hands to produce the most amount of force in combat. His biceps, that she’d only seen once, on a particularly hot day on the sunny planet they inhabited and he had been stretching after training, muscles flexing with the movement of his arms. 

 She groaned with frustration, pressing her pillow into her face to muffle the sound.  

 An uphill battle, indeed. 

-

 The next day had been the same as any other. Morning meditation, breakfast and then Force training. But Master Luke pleasantly surprised her when he had made mention of learning something new.

 It was midday on Ossus as they sat across from each other, under the shade of a large tree. Stacks of rocks surrounded them, evidence of previous training and meditation sessions. She wore a soft, excited grin on her face, eager to learn. His sandy hair was neat as he spoke to her, saying her name gently. 

“In your studies, have you read about Mind Probing?”

 Her grin faltered. 

 Oh, dear Maker, no.

 She nodded gently, heat threatening to rise to her cheeks as anxiety slowly filled her and she was thankful that she’d gotten better at mentally shielding, hoping that her Master could not feel her nerves through her Force signature. 

 She remembers the exact paragraph that she read on Mind-Probing simply because she had had to put the book down as dread filled her at the realisation that she would need to be taught this at some point. She had no clue it would be so soon. 

 Master Luke’s face remained his usual calm. If he’d noticed her panic in any way, he didn’t show it, nodding in approval and continuing to speak. 

 “Good.” 

 She hated the shiver that ran through her at his praise. 

 “The Force's influence over the minds of other beings can be a valuable tool in the right hands, but it can be easily abused as well.” He began, resting his hands on his knees. “As you will have read; Those on the dark side have been known to use the Force to read the thoughts of other beings and, if necessary, search their minds for information.”

 The young woman nodded, trying to keep her face straight as she anxiously toyed with the fabric of her pants. Master Luke’s face showed pure relaxation as he continued.

”It is important for a Jedi to be capable of protecting themselves against such an intrusion, which is why we are going to be practising shielding against the probe.” He finished, observing her silently for a long moment.

 She averted her gaze, looking down at a piece of fabric she’d been running her nail over, unable to look at him in the eye, for she was scared of just how much he would be able to see in hers. 

 “You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question, but merely a statement of truth. One that was impossible to deny, so she didn’t. 

 She nodded, looking back up at him as she did so. She paused her anxious fidgeting to bring her hands into her lap, eyebrows furrowing as she searched for the right words to say. 

 “This process is known for being exceptionally painful for the subject undergoing the probe." He stated before she could bring herself to speak. “Is it the pain you fear?”

 She was silent for a moment, knowing that if she simply lied and said yes, her Master would see right through her even with her mental shields up. Because, well… she was an absolutely terrible liar. 

 Master Luke had caught her out a few times; when she’d tell him that she didn’t stay up too late, or that she’d drank plenty of water that day. He always told her that her face gave her away; like a child that had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

 She let out a small sigh. 

 “Among other things… yes.” She admitted, a blush dusting her cheeks. 

 Master Luke observed her for a moment longer before nodding gently, a look of understanding in his eyes.

 “I understand that it’s invasive.” He began, raising his gloved hand, as if taking an oath. “I can assure you that I will not look further into your mind than what’s necessary.” He promised, earnestly. 

 She flushed, feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights as she blinked away her embarrassment. She hated that she seemed to be so easy for him to read. Has she always been like this? Or does Luke's connection to the Force make him exceptionally good at picking up people's emotions? 

 It often made her wonder if he was truly as blind to her attraction for him as he made himself out to be. Surely if he could tell what she was thinking now, he wouldn’t be so blind as to miss her fruitless pining.

 And if that was the case, then maybe whatever he sees in her head today will be of no surprise?

 She breathed deeply, straightening her back and placing her hands back on her knees, as if she was about to start meditating. 

 She nodded, breathing out a quiet ‘okay’ as permission. 

 He mimicked her posture as he spoke. 

 “When I enter your mind, you will be able to feel me. I will have full access to your thoughts and your memories.” He began, watching her face carefully to ensure she understood his words. 

 “It will, in fact, be painful and you may find it hard to concentrate. However, your goal is to find me within your mind and push me out.”

 She let out a nervous breath, rolling her neck and shoulders back to loosen them, taking some time to ground herself and connect with the environment around her. Using the Force to extend her senses and calm her. She nodded, only closing her eyes after witnessing Master Luke close his, seeming satisfied with her consent. 

 She took a brief moment to relax. Focussing on breathing and emptying her mind to bring herself to a light meditative state, hoping to prepare herself for the experience and calm her anxiously beating heart in one fell swoop whilst she waited for the man in front of her to invade her mind. 

 It started as something she could sense. Like a disturbance in the air around her, interrupting the usual waves of energy she was used to. 

 It exudes calm, much like Luke himself, and starts out as feeling quite unimposing. Unthreatening. She thinks to herself that the sensation is odd - unlike anything she has felt before. But the hair on the back of her neck stands as it approaches her. Almost like a tendril, seen with unseeing eyes through her Force signature, skulking through her environment like a serpent looking for prey. She finds herself bristelling at its proximity, goosebumps rising on her skin as she feels its disturbance wade through her energy. Its calm was unwavering, yet the knowledge of its intention made her nervous. 

 She gulped as it paused in front of her, waiting and patient. 

 She tried to brace herself, tried to find a way to preemptively build up a wall in her head to prevent it from entering. Yet still, when it struck, she was unprepared. 

 She whimpered when it hit her, a pain shooting through her skull, like a hundred migraines occurring at once. Her body tensed and her face screwed up in pain, a blur of sensations and imagery and emotion blew through her and her breathing quickened. A strangled cry escaped her lips.

 But suddenly, she could see. 

 Luke was sitting in front of her, under their tree. The picture was hazy, as though a camera was going in and out of focus but he was there all the same; discussing Mind Probing, the wind blowing through his hair as she thought about how beautiful he was. Just as she had just moments ago. 

 She felt another bout of pain, gritting her teeth to prevent from crying out as the imagery changed, to the mediation they’d done earlier that day. Then again, to her breakfast. 

 Images of her most recent days flowed through her, the pain getting worse and worse as the memories sped past, the pressure in her mind expanding as the memories went further back, to when they first started training together. When all she thought about was Luke. Her stolen glances, her silent pining.

 Through the pain, she felt a pang of embarrassment in her chest, panic shooting through her body as she clutched the fabric of her pants. She struggled to get ahold of herself, to capture her own thoughts through the fog of Luke in her head and the pain making its way down her spine. 

 Watching him as he stretched. Gazing him up and down.

 She let out a grunt as she felt him pushing further, her eyelashes growing wet as tears built up in her eyes as she forced herself to breath strangled breaths, searching desperately for a way to push him out. 

 She imagined a wall - a barrier. Similar to the one she used for her usual mental shielding, but it was weak against his effort. He pushed against it. 

 His arms through his tunic. The feeling she got between her legs when she stared at his hands for too long. 

 She let out a strained sob, eyebrows furrowing and teeth gritting as she began pushing, the image growing blurry with her effort. 

 She could feel him resisting, pushing himself against the imaginary wall she’d built, trying to wiggle himself through. 

She found her embarrassment begin to bubble, flipping inside her chest and morphing to anger. Frustration. The fire of the new emotion helped her as she imagined the wall moving forward, back through her thoughts and memories, shoving against the intrusion, slowly forcing him back out. 

 The pain grew easier to handle the further forward she pushed, but her mind and body grew tired. She put everything into pushing him back, back to the beginning where he kept her fighting for another moment, pushing against the barrier she struggled desperately to keep up. 

 She could feel the sweat beading at her forehead as she fought, a shaky breath escaping her as she pushed and pushed and pushed until he eventually, finally, he relented, letting go so suddenly that she hadn't even realised what was happening as a blur of imagery and emotions blew passed her, feeling as though she was falling; hurtling through the Force. 

 For a moment, she thought she may have gotten lost in her own head. Somehow made a mess of herself and had spun out of control in her own mind. 

 But as she slowed, an image grew clearer, not of Luke, but of herself. 

 She sat in the Temple, at the dining table where they ate all their meals, nose buried in one of the historical texts that she could hardly put down, looking awfully concentrated. 

 She lifted a spoon full of soup up, not daring to take her eyes off the book for even a second as she struggled to find her own mouth, completely missing and dipping her chin in the spoon of soup. 

 A rush of amusement ran through her own body as she watched herself, feeling the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as affection bubbled in her chest, heart beating the tiniest bit harder. 

 Confusion swam through her mind, not understanding quite what was going on. So, she pushed forward, the imagery changing, swirling wispily around her as if in a dream. 

 She could see herself again, during their runs through the bamboo forest, hopping on the stones across the creek. 

 She pushed once more, only to see the ceiling of a room she didn’t recognise and was overcome with pleasure, thoughts of herself flooding her mind as her pleasure increased; the ghost of a deep moan emerging from the memory. 

 Without warning, a flash of white surrounded her and she felt as if she was travelling a million miles an hour, hurtling through memories once again as she was shoved out with so much force, she physically toppled back. 

 She took heaving breaths as confusion clouded her, bringing a hand up to her sore head, groaning. She lay on her back for a moment before moving an arm underneath her to lift herself up into a half-seated position, resting her weight on one arm as she used her other hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks, catching her breath. 

 She opened her eyes, the sun was blinding as they focussed on the figure in front of her, taking a second to adjust in her disorientation. The blurriness cleared to reveal Master Luke in front of her, red faced and mouth agape, looking absolutely mortified.

 Understanding flooded her as she finally realised what she had just experienced. Her eyes widened, blinking in awe as she opened her mouth to speak but found herself hesitating.

 She pushed herself up fully, resting her weight on her hand. 

 "D-did I just-" she began but stopped short when Luke stood up. 

 She watched as he lifted himself off the grass, smoothing out his tunic and pants, face now back to its usual blank state but cheeks still fiery red and for the first time ever, he was avoiding eye contact with her. 

 "Master Luke, I'm sorry, I didn't-" She wanted to grovel at his feet after what she'd done, apologise for having invaded his personal space. But he raised his hand, signalling her to stop. 

 He was silent for a second, seeming to need to collect himself before speaking, looking down at his feet as he cleared his throat. 

 "I think that's enough for today. We'll pick back up tomorrow." His voice had a polite tone, but there was a roughness to it that she hadn't heard before, like he was holding back frustration. 

 She wanted to speak again, to apologise. She even opened her mouth to do so, but found any potential words dead in her throat. 

 "You're dismissed." He looked down at the younger woman for a brief second and nodded curtly before beginning to walk back to the temple, his strides longer and faster than she was used to, leaving her under the shade of their tree to process what had just happened. 

 She spent the rest of the day alone, trying her hardest to train independently, despite having been dismissed by Luke, but finding herself so distracted that she decided to just finish training early anyway, heading back to the temple and pottering around, trying to rid herself of the guilt that sat in the pit of her stomach. 

 She knew Luke must’ve been really upset when he didn’t show up for dinner. When the servant droid placed her plate in front of her and hadn’t returned to place one on the other side of the table, she felt her heart sink a little more.

 She sighed, moving her padawan braid behind her shoulder and began eating solemnly. 

 She felt terrible for what she did, invading his privacy like that. Having made him look at her the way that he did, unable to look her in the eye. Like he had been betrayed. 

 But the worst part of it all, what kept eating away at her; she hated to admit it. Hated to be in direct violation of the Jedi Code by being so utterly selfish by finding that the guilt that bubbled in her gut, did not come from the invasion of privacy, but from the knowledge that she had enjoyed what she saw. The image played over and over again in her head, involuntarily, as if it was a malfunctioning hologram, skipping over itself to replay all over. 

 The guilt followed her to bed that night, where instead of smiling up at her ceiling like she often did, her fingers twitched by her sides as she lay awake, filled with the knowledge that he had pleasured himself while thinking of her.

 It took every ounce of self restraint to not do the same - knowing she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye tomorrow if she did. 

 The next morning was bright and warm as she breathed deeply under their tree, body relaxed and mind empty as the rocks around her hovered silently. 

 Luke was usually already under the tree when she arrived, having been meditating for Maker knows how long before she even left the Temple, but when he hadn’t been sitting in his usual place when she walked up the small hill today, she had accepted, with much disappointment, that she would be training on her own for the day. 

 She was, however, pleasantly surprised when she felt a familiar presence enter her senses. Despite her eyes being closed, she could see him, walking toward their tree, looking at her with his usual neutral expression as he adjusted his leather glove on his right hand, no sign of the blush that graced his cheeks yesterday afternoon. 

 Although, she noticed something about him immediately. That something was different. It took her a moment of mulling it over to realise that it was that his presence in the Force seemed… hollow, almost. Like something was missing. 

 She quickly realised that he was guarded. Shielding himself from her. 

 “I was starting to think I’d be training on my own today.” She stated when he’d gotten close. 

 He was silent for a moment and she could see him pause in front of her, looking down at her as he seemed to collect his thoughts. 

 ”I’m sorry for running late.” He said, moving toward his usual place in front of her.

 She could hear the rustling of his clothes as he moved his hands to his sides, looking at her with that unreadable look that she loved and hated. His breathing was relaxed but he had a tenseness in his shoulders that was not usually there. 

 “Don’t apologise,” She began, opening her eyes slowly to look up at him properly. “I’d be upset at me too, after what I did yesterday.” 

 He said nothing as he stared at her, face relaxed except for a soft furrow of his brow. She sighed, lowering the rocks around her gently to the ground and moving her hands into her lap, toying with her fingers. 

 “I… invaded your privacy. I entered your mind without your permission, and I apologise for that.” She said, thankful that she could finally get the apology out in the open, after sitting with the weight of it on her shoulders since the second she’d seen his face yesterday.

 She found it hard to look directly at him, as despite him being a beautiful and kind man, he was intimidating. He was often hard to read, even when he wasn’t shielding himself from her. When unguarded, he usually emitted an aura of calm. Pure neutrality. The same way she felt when she just finished meditating. But his presence was also always intense. Heavy. 

 And now, with his shield up and no way to feel his usual calm demeanor, the only thing she could feel was his intensity. 

 Maybe it was her attraction to him that made him feel so intimidating to her, maybe it was just the way that he was, but she felt herself grow nervous. However, she chose to keep herself open. Allowed him to feel her anxiety, her guilt, her pure sincerity, if he chose to pay attention - and she knew he always did. 

 He breathed in deeply, looking away from her to take a seat across from the younger woman, now eye level with her. She felt a small shift in the air around them, filling her with a gentle wave of emotion. Calm. 

 He’d opened himself up to her, just a little.

 She looked at him again, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. 

 “It was an accident.” He stated, simply. A soft, reassuring smile on his lips. “You pushed too hard and when I left your mind, you followed me into mine. I should’ve prepared myself for it but I didn’t.” He moved, straightening his back and relaxing his shoulders, evidently preparing to join her in meditation. 

 “I accept your apology and I’d like to offer you one of my own. For not informing you of the possibility.”

 She smiled, joining him in adjusting her posture as she nodded. 

 “It’s okay.” She confirmed, closing her eyes once again, grateful to feel the weight of anxiety lifted off her chest. The day moved like every other, training as normal, eating together as always.

 But there was something different between them now. A shift in their dynamic. 

 It was subtle at first - she assumed it was simply the fact that they’d moved past a hitch in their platonic relationship. A teaching moment between Master and Padawan, moving past their personal feelings and focussing on the training at hand.

 However, as the days passed, lingering glances had turned into shy eye contact. Her blushing cheeks at his touch were met with knowing smirks. Their dinners, usually littered with small talk and questions about Jedi training, turned into meaningful conversations. Hells, she’d even made him laugh a few times and boy, was she ecstatic to discover that Luke Skywalker, the most serious and quiet man she knows, Jedi Knight, has the sweetest, most boyish giggle she’s ever heard. She revelled in the sight of his toothy smile, cheeks creasing with the size of his grin. 

 Her heart pounded even just thinking about it as he led her to a new location of the Temple, one that had still been getting built by worker droids when she first arrived to Ossus for training. The room was large and open, with a lifted podium in the centre, where he led her before handing her a wooden pole, the handle surrounded in metal and wrapped in leather, to replicate the weight of a mechanical hilt.

 Her eyes widened.

 ”Saber training?” She said, awestruck as she gazed up at Luke, who looked down at her with the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. He nodded, moving to stand in front of the shorter woman, hands behind his back as he watched her. 

 “I’d like you to position yourself in a fighting stance.” He said simply, face blank once again, calm yet intimidating aura ever present. 

 Despite their recent change of dynamic in their free time, he rarely shifted his focus off of training her properly. 

 There had been a few times where she tried to keep their light conversation from dinner or breakfast going into their lessons, but had each time been met with a telling look or sometimes even a gentle scolding, her name rolling off of his tongue with a disciplinary tone. A reminder to stay focussed. 

 She gripped the hilt of the wooden saber in her hands and shuffled her feet shoulder-width apart, bending her knees slightly, trying to mimic the stance she’d seen in the Holothrillers that Peli and her would watch on Mos Eisley. 

 Once in position, she looked at Luke, waiting for him to provide further guidance. 

 He observed her, gaze slowly trailing down her body as he took in her position, tilting his head as he did so, seeming ponderous. 

 Her stomach fluttered at the sight of his eyes taking her in with his very serious expression, his jaw tightening as he observed her.

 He started to move, his hands staying behind his back as he slowly circled her, his footsteps echoing in the open space, their sound becoming her only knowledge of his location after he exited her vision, reminding her once again of her weakness in the Force when preoccupied and not meditating. Their recent Force training sessions had been consistent with that Maker-forsaken Training Remote. The burns on her legs and feet from its tiny beams are proof enough of her ineptitude with the Force when distracted. They would soon have to make a trip into the city for more Bacta at the rate she’s going through it.

 His sudden appearance directly behind her startles her, jumping when he begins speaking. She swears she can hear the hit of a smirk in his voice, amused by her skittishness. 

“Your instinctual position proves almost perfect.” He begins, “However, we need to make a few small adjustments.” 

 He takes a step closer and the only thing she can sense without the aid of the Force is the sound of his clothes rustling as he moves and the sound of his leather glove stretching with his fingers. Her grip on the hilt of the wooden saber tightens as she anticipates his touch, her senses heightened as her heart began to pound. 

 Her breath hitches when she feels his gloved hand touch the back of her thigh, pushing as he does so. 

 “Bend your knees a little more.” 

 She does as he says, lowering herself with his hand guiding her, revelling in the feeling of his fingers. The smooth leather of his glove makes her yearn for the touch of his skin against hers. She can’t help but think of him gripping her thigh, moving her however he wants. 

 His hand pulling away pulls her out of her thoughts, the ghost of his touch tingling her skin, making her legs feel weak. 

 He then gently places both hands on her shoulders, just soft enough to stabilise her as he brings himself closer, warm chest nearly touching her back as he uses the outside of his boot to push on the inside of her right foot, spreading her legs the tiniest bit more.

 The unexpected action makes face flush and her toes curl in her shoes as she has to consciously focus on keeping her breathing steady. Mind wandering, immediately. 

 ”Keeping your feet further apart helps with agility when in combat.” He stated, factually, his breath on her ear and she has to try not to shiver at the feeling. 

 He removed his hands slowly, trailing down her upper arms before retreating fully as he moved to stand in front of her again, keeping his distance close.

 The young woman took deep breaths, closing her eyes to take a moment to relax before opening them again, her dilated pupils taking him in. His face stayed neutral, exuding relaxation as he watched her and she hoped she didn’t look as desperate as she felt, practically panting with want, too aware of every part of her body that yearned for his touch, from her hands, to her feet, to the apex of her thighs. 

 She grew tired as she kept her shield up, strengthening it as her thoughts wandered, trying to focus on anything other than his eyes or his hands or his stupid unreadable face. 

 She took another deep breath.

 If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. His demeanor remained unchanged as he looked down to her hands gripping the hilt before he raised his own, gloved fingers gripping the saber while the other hand reaches for hers. 

 She let out a shaky breath when his skin touched hers as he repositioned her hands, swapping them around whilst he held her saber for her. 

 She hoped she wasn’t reading too far into it when his hand lingered on her fingers for a moment longer than it should’ve. 

 “Always lead with your dominant hand.” 

 He moved away again, walking with his hands behind his back as he observed just as he did before, eyes roaming her body for signs of imperfection. His head moved as he looked her over, circling her once again, his gaze burning into her skin.

 His demeanor made her feel like a rabbit in a lion's den. And her face flushed at the knowledge that she liked it. 

 The rest of saber training had felt torturous. Not only because of his lingering touches, but because watching her Master wield a saber with ease, his tunic tightening around his muscles, his breathing growing ragged with exertion was like collapsing dehydrated in the middle of the desert and seeing an ice cold water bottle sitting just outside of reach. Like being in a prison cell, the key to the door hanging just outside the bars. 

 Like being infatuated with a man you can’t have. 

 She touched herself in the refresher to the thought of him, after training. 

 After dinner, spending some time in the Temple library, opting for a romance book after the excitement of the day, and doing her final meditation for the night, she retired to bed where she tossed and turned more than she usually would. 

 The events of her day played over in her mind, the ghost of her Masters touch still present on her skin. 

 She came to wonder if her frustration with her inability to be with the man she so desperately and selfishly pined for, indicated a dark desire. A path to the Dark Side. If, deep down, she really was filled with selfishness and hate. 

 She’d never identified with the Dark Side, often finding the lust for power obnoxious and all-too similar to Earth's facism, a political standpoint she’s always detested. But the Dark and the Light side of the Force were not a simple matter of opinion or politics. 

 No, it was almost as though it was destined. Something that the Force predetermined to keep balance within it. So, although she felt no pull to the Dark Side, was her selfish desire for Luke Skywalker a pathway to it? Would this infatuation with her Master create a pull that has already been predetermined?

 The thought had her restless and after chasing sleep for an hour and it eluding her, she decided to just continue reading the new book she had started this evening in hopes of putting her racing thoughts behind her.

 Flipping the blankets off of her body and shuffling to the edge of the bed, she stood to walk to the other side of her quarters, where the book sat on the table next to a small carpet she used for her evening meditations. Luke had placed it in here, insisting she have somewhere other than just their tree to sit and meditate.

 She gripped the book whilst looking down at the cover, an image of a Human man holding a Twi’lek woman by the waist, staring lovingly into her eyes. She sighed down at it almost longingly before moving to make her way back to her bed. 

 Her feet stopped dead on the stone floor when a small, nagging feeling rose up on the back of her neck. It almost felt like a small tingle, like a bug was crawling on her skin or her hair was grazing her neck. She thought she may have imagined it at first, but it quickly grew in intensity. A shiver ran down her spin and her blood ran cold. 

 She stood in the centre of her room, waiting. Feeling. Goosebumps rose on her skin as the shiver expanded across her whole body, her feet had pins and needles. 

 Something was wrong.

 Her eyebrows furrowed, her toes flexed against the stone tiles as an image of a black mask appeared in her mind. A flash of blinding red light.

 A deep feeling of dread filled her, her chest tightening as the feeling overwhelmed her and she brought a hand up to place her palm against it, feeling her heartbeat rattling in her ribcage. 

 It was then that she heard a scream. Not in her head, but within the Temple. 

 Luke. 

 The book fell to her feet and she took off, ripping  her door open and sprinting down the hall, through the common area where they ate together and down the opposite hallway, toward her Masters quarters.

 She had never been here before, had never even thought about coming here, out of respect for the unspoken expectation between Master and Padawan. But as she grew closer, the hairs on her arms stood as the overwhelming sense of danger flooded her senses. 

 She didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think it over for a second before pulling the door open and running so fast into Luke's room that she nearly tumbled over the area rug on the floor. 

 Luke laid seemingly unharmed in his bed, writhing and whimpering. But as she watched him, flashes of red light flooded her head and she blinked as they appeared. 

 “Luke!” She yelled, running to his side, looking down at him under the covers, the word ‘no’ tumbling out of his lips between whimpers and groans. 

 She was confused, brows furrowing as panic filled her. Was he just dreaming? And if he was just dreaming, why was she sensing it? Experiencing it through the Force?

His shoulders convulsed as he let out wailing sobs. His face scrunched as he began crying and her heart clenched at the sight. His beautiful face twisted into agony, as though he was in mourning. 

 She placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, his bare skin wet with sweat, jostling him in an attempt to wake him. 

 “Luke, please!” She cried, anxious to get him out of whatever dream he was having. He continued to writhe, his hair stuck to his damp forehead. 

 She placed a knee on his bed, leaning over him to capture both of his shoulders to shake him.

 ”Luke! Wake up!” She shouted louder this time, being cautious as to not injure him with her grip. 

 He gasped as his eyes shot open, the word ‘no’ still escaping his lips as his body jolted out of sleep, startling even more at the sight of her.

 She let out a small yelp as he shot up, her hands leaving his shoulders and up to her chest, frightened by his sudden movement. 

 ”it’s okay!” She shouted over his whimpers, “Luke, it’s okay! It’s me!” She pleaded.

 Confusion clouded his eyes as his body heaved with ragged breath, bracing one hand on his bed and bringing the other to his chest, flattening it across his sternum as he caught his breath, still whimpering and mumbling, as if still coming out of the throws of his dream.

 “Luke, are you ok?” She brought a hand down to his forearm, grazing his skin gently so as to not frighten him again. 

 He flinched a little at the contact but settled when his eyes caught hers, clearer than they were before and she breathed out a relieved breath, grateful to see the recognition in his face. 

 He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to gain control of his breathing. His face was still twisted in confusion and panic. 

 “I-I can’t-“ He tried to speak but struggled, closing his eyes. 

 She looked around his room quickly, realising she hadn’t taken note of anything when she’d entered and hoped to find something that could help him now. 

 She nearly gasped in happiness when her eyes settled on the glass jug of water on the table across from the bed. 

 “Hang on.” She stated, giving his arm a reassuring tap before hurrying over to the table, picking up one of the upturned glasses on the tray and pouring some fresh water into it. 

 She brought it back over to his bed, grabbing at his hand to guide it to the glass, where he looked up at her with grateful eyes and a furrowed brow. He nodded in thanks as he gripped it with shaky hands, bringing it to his lips to take a sip. 

 She then hurried to the other side of the room, grateful to see that their quarters were practically identical. She rushed over his own meditation mat and pulled aside the thin curtains so she could open a set of balcony doors, allowing the cool night breeze to enter the room, something she often did whilst she was meditating in her own room. 

 She turned to watch him sigh in relief when the breeze hit his wet skin, the messy bed hair on his head moved with it. He removed the glass from his lips, bringing it down to rest in his lap.

 It was only now, after her goosebumps died down and the shiver of imminent danger had left her, that she took notice of his appearance. 

 He was shirtless, the sheet that had initially covered him when she entered pooled on his lap, exposing his chest. He was unexpectedly lean, although she supposed you had to be to be a Jedi; even she had noticed a difference in her body after she began her training almost a standard year ago. The moonlight flooding in from the open door glistened against his moist skin, revealing the contours of his biceps, and as she looked at his arms from her new position in his quarters, she noticed that he wasn’t wearing his signature leather glove and she could now see his broken skin, where something metallic shined in the moonlight from underneath. 

 As she walked closer, she realised that underneath the skin of his right hand was metal and wiring, the skin around it seeming damaged. 

 She had heard the stories, heard that he’d had his hand cut off by his own father, but had never known the legitimacy of them. All the books, Holothrillers and verbal retellings had said different things. Some that he was the hero, others that he was the villain. But they all showed the same depiction of his father. A man in a black mask with a red saber. 

 She sat cautiously on the other side of the bed, watching as he finally caught his breath. 

 “Are you ok?” She asked, quietly. Despite being the only two in the temple that aren’t droids, the darkness of the night made her feel like she had to whisper, like they were sharing a secret they didn’t want others to hear. 

 Luke moved to place the glass of water on his nightstand and she mentally scolded herself as she watched his muscles contort with the movement. 

 “Yes, thank you,’ he began, still capturing his breath as he moved back to look at her. “I apologise if I woke you.” He clasped his hands together in his lap, toying with his fingers as he stared at her with a sheepish expression. 

 He was embarrassed. 

 She shook her head, adjusting her position on his bed so that she was sitting on her knees, facing him entirely. 

 “You didn’t.” She tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear, watching as Luke took in her nightgown and untied tresses. She realised that he had also never seen her like this and probably found it equally as jarring as she did. 

 “I couldn’t sleep. I was about to start reading my new book to see if it would help when I became overwhelmed with a terrible feeling.” She explained, looking down at her lap. ”I had no clue what it was until I heard you yell.”

 Luke suddenly moved, and she looked up at him, seeing a look of surprise on his face as he adjusted his position to face her. 

 “You could sense it?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

 She nodded. “Yes. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was like the room just stilled and all I could feel was this overwhelming sense of danger or fear - but it wasn’t my own.” She elaborated, realising that Luke was clearly interested in her experience. She watched as he nodded, silently urging her to continue. 

 “And then I could see… a figure. A man in a mask. But I wasn't really seeing it. It was like a picture had appeared in my head.” 

 Luke nodded, a soft smile adorning his face. 

 “Your connection with the force has grown.” He stated simply, gulping down the last of his ragged breath. He seemed almost proud but there was a distant look in his eye, as if he was still thinking of his dream. 

 She shuffled closer, moving toward him again, capturing her nightgown in her hand to gather it at her knees so she could move without the fabric getting in the way. 

 She lowered her voice again as she asked; 

 ”Were you dreaming of Vader?” 

 His eyes met hers for a brief moment before moving again to stare down at the bedsheets, his face scrunched as he thought, his hair still stuck to his forehead. 

 “N-no. It was someone else.” She could tell he was thinking back, trying to connect any dots he could find. “I didn’t recognise him. But you feeling it through the Force tells me that this was not just a dream.” He lets out a sigh, bringing his robotic hand up to his hair, smoothing it out.The mechanical pieces clicked quietly as they moved with him. 

 “A premonition?” She asked, awestricken at the thought. Luke gravely nodded in return, his hand dropping to his lap once again. 

 ”Do you ever know when it will come true?” She questions further, knees knocking with his as she moves even closer to him without thinking, interest piqued. She’d read of Jedi getting prophetic visions and had found great interest in it, having never experienced one before - until now, she supposed. 

 He looked down at their legs, seeming to think for a moment before responding. 

 “No, it’s hard to know when it will happen. It may never happen.” He began, his eyes on her exposed knees and the fabric of her nightgown pooled between her thighs. 

 She came to a slow realisation of the situation they were currently in. 

 She was in his quarters. In the middle of the night. In his bed. In nothing but a nightgown.

 She suddenly hoped the white light of the moon didn’t reveal the blush on her cheeks as he continued speaking, the air around them seeming to have shifted as he, too, realised their predicament. 

 “The future is always changing. The actions of the present are constantly adjusting the future.” He gazed down at her, his voice thinning as he spoke. 

 There was something different about him as he sat across from her. Maybe it was the fact that he’d just woken from a nightmare or, as she’d just discovered, a premonition, but he was more expressive. His usually neutral face was still relaxed, a great juxtaposition to how he looked earlier, but his eyes communicated more than she was used to. He continued looking at the way her nightgown flowed around her, eyes glittering in the moonlight. His eyes would meet hers every so often, as if to maintain the guise of innocence as his jaw clenched, the action visible in the contrast of the soft light. 

 The room seemed heavier, and she wasn't sure if it was the Force, or her imagination, but there was almost a kind of electricity filling the space between them. The new aura around them made her stomach flutter, reminding her of their time saber training earlier today, a memory that has her mental scolding herself once again, sure that she was to make a fool of herself if she thinks too hard about the way he touched her then and the way his body moved under his tunic. What she would give to see him do it shirtless like this. 

 She swallowed, fingers clenching her nightgown nervously, an action she see’s Lukes eyes catch instantly. Her inner thighs tingle and her heart pounds as she prepares herself to speak.

 “Are the dreams of a Jedi often premonitions?” She asked, voice weak as she moved her eyes down to his body, his biceps twitching with every small movement as he toyed with his fingers in his lap. She watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he gulped.

 His hair was still tousled, shoulders moving in breaths that still aren’t quite even, his eyes shining with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

 “Not always... But they can be.” His response was delayed, distracted almost. His eyes were lidded as they darted across her face. At her eyes, to her lips and across her cheeks that looked so smooth and so pleasant in the night. 

 A cold breeze blew through the open balcony window, making the curtains behind her dance and her nightgown move against her body, brushing against her nipples. Her toes curled as they hardened in response, a quiet breath escaped her, nearly inaudible, but he heard it. Of course he heard it.

 Luke watched as her hair flowed around her shoulders, not used to seeing it out of its usual braid or bun. She could see his eyes trail down the strands of hair within her padawan braid, down to her collarbones, and he licked his lips when his gaze met her chest, breath seeming to falter at the sight. 

 His breathing grew heavy again as she leaned forward without thinking, her body moving practically without her permission. She wasn’t even thinking about what she was doing. Her stomach bubbled with longing and all she knew was that she needed to be close to him. 

 “How do you tell the difference between a dream and something prophetic?” She whispered, pausing so she could look into his eyes, looking at whatever emotion lay beneath them, desperate to know if this was ok, If she was reading this correctly.

 There was something there, something akin to desire. But there was hesitation as well. She could see it in the crease between his eyebrows. It made her hesitate, not wanting to push this further if he didn’t want it.

 “You just feel it.” He responded shakily, swallowing once more as his eyes darted to her lips, his tongue wetting his own without a second thought. When his eyes met hers again, there was an excited cloudiness there.

 She took it as her sign. Her permission to lean in closer, watching him as she did so for any sign of discomfort, but he looked at her lips again and she could’ve sworn he leaned in too. 

 She could feel his hot breath on her face as she neared and she stopped just before their lips met, waiting for him to make the final move. 

 He hesitated. 

“We shouldn’t do this.” He stated simply but didn’t make a move to pull away, his voice a rough whisper. 

 Her nose bumped his as she moved the smallest bit to look him in the eye, lips moving further away just by a centimetre 

 “Do you want me to stop?” She asked. Her question was genuine, but it came out breathlessly. Dreamily. Full of want. 

 He took a moment to respond, gulping nervously, his breathing shaky.

 She was about to pull away, about to apologise for her forwardness when he finally shook his head. 

 “No.” 

 He still didn’t move toward her, like he was nervous to make the first move but when she finally brought her lips to his in a gentle kiss, he responded immediately. His lips closed around hers without question, soft and cautious. 

 Despite her initiating it, he took the lead, repositioning his head to capture her lips with more ease, adjusting his body as he leant in.  

 She lifted a hand to his cheek, sighing against his lips when he leant into her touch, moving his real hand to the side of her neck, cupping the back of her head to pull her in whilst his mechanical hand rested on her thigh in front of him. 

 As the kiss deepened, she lifted herself on to her knees, cautiously crawling into his lap, making sure he had plenty of time to stop her if he felt like he needed to, but he welcomed her gladly. His hand on her thigh slid up to her hip to pull her in, the fabric of her nightgown riding up unintentionally as he did. 

 She settled into his lap, body on fire as her thighs rested around his waist, enjoying the way her bare skin felt against his. 

 The kiss was heated, breathless and desperate, but remained innocent enough until his grip on her tightened and he pulled her closer, chests completely flush. 

 A whine left her throat at the feeling of her bare sex brushing against the unmistakable hardness under his sleep pants. 

 He sighed in response, moving his hand from her neck to her bare thigh, pulling her in closer again, encouraging the movement of her hips. 

 She ground down on him properly for the first time and he whined into her mouth. The sound was deep and desperate and she could feel it vibrate in his chest against her breasts as it came out. 

 She moved a hand to the back of his head, lacing her fingers through his hair as she felt Luke’s tongue ask for entrance against her lips. 

 She moved her hips again when their tongues met, encouraging him to continue. Giving him all the clues he needed to keep going, the reassurance that she was enjoying herself and that she was desperate for more of him. 

 His hand on her thigh trailed up under the fabric of her nightgown and around the curve of her ass, gripping it as he pulled her against him, jutting his hips up to meet the movement. She gripped his shoulder as her folds rubbed against his length, finding herself frustrated at the barrier of his sleep pants between them. 

 He placed his other hand under her nightgown, the fabric gathering on his forearms as he explored her bare skin, bringing his hands up to capture her breast in his palm, giving it an experimental squeeze. 

 She pushed her chest further into his hand whilst she rocked against him, breathing laboured. She sighed when he grunted in appreciation at the weight of her in his palm. 

 His thumb brushed against her nipple lightly and she pulled away from the kiss to let out a shaky moan, taking a moment to look at him. 

 “We really shouldn’t do this.” She stated, looking him in the eyes. But her actions betrayed her words, cupping his cheek and rolling her hips again, eyes closing at the feeling. She knew how he felt about this. About the Jedi Code. And wanted to give him any out he may have needed before they went too far. 

 But he groaned at her excitement, at the feeling of her wetness seeping through his cotton pants, eyes dropping to her neck and collarbone, where he brought a hand up to move her padawan braid over her shoulder with the rest of her hair. 

 “Do you want me to stop?” He mimicked her words from just moments before, his voice raspy and breathless as he brought his lips to her throat, shivering when he heard her gasp and grip the back of his hair at the feeling. 

 “Please don’t.” She moaned, revelling in the feeling of his lips dancing across her skin. 

 He let out a deep chuckle, one she’d never heard from him before, his breath cooling the saliva on her neck, making her whine as he brought his hands down to the hem of her gown and began pulling it up. A wave of excitement ran through her as he removed his lips to lift the fabric over her head, leaving her bare in front of him. 

 His eyes roamed her body, wetting his lips as he looked down at her breasts, discarding the garment wherever it fell and bringing both of his hands to her chest, thumbs grazing over her nipples once more, a restrained breath leaving his mouth as he watched as her face contorted in pleasure. 

 She reached a hand between them, tugging at the band of his cotton sleepwear to communicate what she wanted. 

 She lifted herself up on her knees, giving him space to pull the garment down. 

 Her thighs quivered with excitement as his length was freed from his pants, pink tip wet with precum and standing flush and straight. 

 She helped him rid his legs of the fabric so they were both bare for one another, hearts hammering and chests heaving with strained breath as they gazed at each other, the weight of what they were about to do sinking in. They didn’t move for a moment, looking to the other for their final looks of approval, to make sure this was a decision they wanted to make together. 

 He looked up at her, eyes softening as he brought his hand to her cheek, pulling her in. She captured his lips in a kiss once more, revelling in the spark on her skin where their bare chests connected. 

 She moved over his lap, rolling her hips once again and they both sighed as her wet folds finally ground against the bare underside of his length. His hand grasped her hip, making her skin feel like it was on fire as his fingers tightened on her body, groaning at the sensation of her slick coating his shaft. 

 She did it once, twice more before lifting herself on her knees whilst he moved his real hand between their bodies, positioning himself at her entrance.

 She lowered herself onto him, watching his face as his tip breached her entrance.

She gasped at the feeling and electricity shot through her. His jaw hung open, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders moved with the inflation of his lungs, eyelids fluttering. He let out a strained moan, his grip bruisingly tight.  

 They made eye contact as she settled further, taking her time lowering herself on to his length, savouring the feeling of her stretching around his girth.

 She moaned when she finally bottomed out, gripping his shoulders to ground her as her thighs quivered. His eyes were blown, pupils dilated as he watched her face, closing them only to place a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, his arms wrapping around her waist as she began to move. 

 It was agonisingly slow and drove him crazy, the way she moved on him, lifting her hips and feeling him dragging out of her slowly, only to sink back down again at the same pace. Slowly and gently, savouring the feeling of him inside her, like she was committing him to memory. 

 His grip tightened as he grabbed a hold of her thighs, helping her lift her body, guiding her. 

 The way he grabbed her made her think he was going to take charge, change the pace and slam her body back down to his. But instead, he matched her pace, moaning into her mouth and jutting his hips in time with hers, needy and desperate but still tender and gentle. 

 His head dropped to her shoulder as their bodies moved together, leaving sloppy, delirious kisses on her neck every so often while she gripped his hair, moaning into his neck as his fingers gripped her body. The sound of their panting filled the room as their pace quickened, Luke’s breathing growing laboured. 

 She could tell he was fast approaching his release. Could sense it from the way he grasped at her thighs but also within the air around her, as if the tension in his body filled the room. The coil in his stomach, growing.

 His shield must’ve been down.

 He moved back, eyes locking with hers as he positioned his mechanical hand between their bodies, the faux skin feeling close to lifelike, but lacking the warmth of his body. She could see the determination in his face, like he knew he was going to finish too fast and wanted to make sure she finished first. 

 He laid a hand flat on her stomach, reaching his thumb down until he found her clit. 

 “M-maker.” She gasped, eyes nearly rolling back at the spark his circling thumb sent through her body. If her eyes had been open, she would’ve seen the satisfied smirk he wore when her body stuttered against him, savouring the feeling of her clenching around him. The sounds she was making flowed through him, bringing him closer to his end. 

 The presence of his pleasure flooded her through the Force, swirling in the air as his release grew near, aiding her journey as well. 

  As if he could feel it, maybe he actually could, he put more pressure on her clit and her body shivered as she got closer to her climax, struggling to move against him. 

 He thrust his hips up, using his other hand, still clasped on her waist, to guide her down on to him, taking charge as her body struggled with the extra stimulation. She moaned as his hips bucked into her, his cock filling her beautifully as she throbbed around it, orgasm swirling in her abdomen. 

 He guided her through it, swirling his thumb around her clit until her thighs convulsed around his waist. Her face contorted in ecstasy, moaning as she reached her climax and Luke finally allowed himself to finish, burying his face in her neck as he whimpered with his release, hips sputtering and biceps flexing with the grip he had on her body, cock twitching inside her. 

 Her walls throbbed around him as she came down from her high, falling limp against his body, face resting on his shoulder as she caught her breath, enjoying the remaining waves of pleasure as their bodies relaxed into one another. 

 His hand left her pelvis, moving to engulf her in an exhausted embrace, one hand flat against her back and the other in her hair, thumb rubbing against her jaw. 

 They stayed there for a while, enjoying being in each other's arms until she eventually pulled back, only to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. He reciprocated sweetly, stroking her hair softly and massaging his fingers into her scalp. 

 They pulled apart to rest their foreheads together, eyes closed and simply appreciating each other's presence, their heavy breathing slowing as they relaxed. 

 After a while of comfortable silence, a thought struck her and the young woman smiled, letting out a soft chuckle, hand moving to cover her mouth as she opened her eyes. 

 Luke pulled back to look her in the eye, a smile toying at his lips. 

 “What?” He asked with a soft voice. 

She giggled, covering her face shyly as she shook her head, hair flowing around her shoulders. “It’s nothing-“ she chuckled again, eyes closing as her shoulders shook with soft laughter. 

 A toothy grin broke out on his face, his cheeks creasing as he let out his own laugh. 

 “Well now you have to tell me.” He teased, lifting a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear affectionately. 

 She smiled at him, hesitating for a moment but so caught up in the intimacy of the moment and the laughter between them that she said it anyway. 

 “I was just thinking…” she trailed off, looking away as she held back another laugh.  “That for a man sworn to celibacy, you sure seem to know what you’re doing.” She hid her face as it came out of her mouth, cheeks flushing as she giggled. 

 Luke’s eyes widened, a surprised look on his face at the forwardness of her statement and for a moment she was nervous she’d said too much. But she relaxed when he scrunched his nose as a shy smile broke out on his face.

 “Oh my-“ he cut himself off with a laugh, bringing a hand up to his face in embarrassment. 

 She laughed even harder at his reaction, thankful that he’d found himself amused by her joke, bringing a hand to rest on his bicep.

 He removed his hand from his face and looked up at her again, a wide smile still playing on his lips. 

 “I haven’t always been a Jedi, you know.” He offered as an explanation, dropping his hand to play with the ends of her hair. 

 She smirked, deciding to keep going with her teasing. 

 “So Tattooines resident farm boy, Luke Skywalker, got around that much, huh?” She poked his cheek playfully when she said it, smiling when he rolled his eyes in jest. 

 “Not that much.” He shook his head, swatting her hand away gently. “But I did have a friend, Biggs, who loved to talk about all of his experiences.” He exaggerated his words when describing his friend, a boyish giggle left his throat at the memory, his face plastered with his grin. 

 She smiled affectionately at him as she toyed with his robotic hand that he hadn’t removed from hers, feeling the replicated skin and the mechanics underneath it, watching as the gears moved with every twitch of his fingers. 

 When his laugh died down, he continued; 

 “And you know that we aren’t sworn to celibacy.” He teased, still toying with the ends of her hair with his other hand, trailing his fingertips across the bead that secured the braid behind her ear, the hair within it longer than the rest on her head. 

 “We can technically make love, we just can’t be in love.” He finished, a smirk still playing on his lips but she could hear the way he trailed off, watched as the smile slowly left his face and a sudden sadness filled his eyes. 

 She smiled softly at him, trying to keep the conversation light. 

 “Sounds like a loophole to me.” She joked, lacing her fingers with his. He looked down at them, rubbing a mechanical thumb across the back of her hand, the whirring of the gears within it breaking the silence in the room. 

 She doesn’t know why she says it, why it was on her mind or why she thought it was a good idea to verbalise it, but without thinking, she whispers;

 ”Those things kind of go hand in hand for me.”

 The weight of her words filled the room and she felt mortified the second she said it, in awe of the implied admission in the sentence, but unable to deny it. 

 His eyes met hers, realisation settling in them as his face fully dropped to one of sadness. Something akin to regret washed over him as he took a moment to respond, mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say, shaking his head. 

 The way he said her name reminded her of the times he’d scold her for being distracted, but instead of authority behind his tone, it was disappointment. Heartbreak. 

 He brought his other hand on top of their clasped fingers. 

 “This was-“ he stops short, struggling to find the words.

 He shook his head, running a thumb over her hand as he tries to collect his thoughts.

 “We shouldn’t have…” He can’t bring himself to say any more, but he doesn’t have to. 

 “I know.” She states, simply. A sad smile ghosts her face as she looks at him, bringing her free hand up to his, cupping his cheek. “I know, Luke.” 

 Despite his words. Despite what he knows he should be doing; He leans into her touch. Furrowing his eyebrows, gloomy eyes looking into hers as he watched them begin to tear up. His chest tightened at the sight of her eyes welling, gripping her hand tighter.

 “C-can we just…” She began, swallowing the lump in her throat in an attempt not to cry. “Can we pretend that it’s ok? Just for tonight?” She asked, pushing his hair back to get a better view of his face, committing the view of his desperate eyes in the white light of the moon to memory. 

 His stare darted between her eyes, seeming torn. He was silent for a while, jaw clenching as his mind raced. But eventually, he sighed, rubbing his real hand over her forearm, almost reassuringly as he nodded, a sad smile on his face. 

 She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, leaning down to peck his lips once more and he held her there, savouring the feeling of her lips on his.

 She adjusted herself in his lap, his cock still half-hard inside her and he let out a small, overstimulated grunt, pulling away for a second to look her in the eyes, bringing his hand up to wipe the tear that began to roll down her cheek. 

 “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He promised, cradling her face. 

 She nodded with a sad smile, leaning in to kiss him again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

 The night passed slowly as swapped stories, sharing laughs together in each other's embrace, tangled in the bed sheets as the sound of the curtains shuffling in the breeze filled the room amongst their whispers. 

 He told her of his time growing up on Tatooine. Of his best friend, Biggs and his aunt Beru and Uncle Owen and all the trouble he’d get in for getting up to mischief in town. He explained how he and Biggs used to race landspeeders and fly small ships whenever they could, often crashing or ending up somewhere they shouldn’t have just because they egged each other on and brought out the worst in each other in the most beautifully chaotic way. He said that doing these silly things had made him realise that he wanted to be a pilot, and had even applied for the Imperial academy, simply because he knew they would train him to fly better than he knew he already could.

 He made her giggle at the mention of his childhood memories of Peli, who he hadn’t really known as anything but the mean lady at the Spaceport that wouldn’t let the aspiring-pilots in to look at any of the ships in her hangars, even when the young boys begged. 

 She shook her head in amusement, unsurprised by his observation of the older woman. A smile graced her lips as she did, only dimming slightly after an oddly homesick feeling struck her, realising that she hadn’t seen her old boss, someone that she considered a friend, in quite a long time. 

 Luke, whether through the Force or solely from her facial expression, had noticed the shift in her, asking her sweetly to tell him of her past. 

 He’d known the surface-level things. That she was from a primitive planet in a far away galaxy and became stranded on Tatooine, ignorant to many of the workings of her new home. But he listened intently as she explained how Peli, despite being an abrasive and rude woman on the surface, had selflessly taken the young woman in after seeing the lost look on her face when the ship that she’d landed in not an hour earlier, had taken off without her on it. 

 She explained how she felt quite neanderthalic, having little to no knowledge of most of the technology she came across or how the currency system worked. 

 Peli had helped her through it all in the months they lived together by explaining the politics to her, reciting the history she knew of and even teaching her to read and write in other common languages in the afternoons, after dinner and before she retired to her uncomfortable cot in the back of the Tool Shop, where she slept amongst the droids.

 Their chatting lasted hours, even after their eyes began to get heavy and they started yawning, unwilling to let the night end. There was a part of her that wondered if he, too, was trying to enjoy it while it lasted, for they knew they had to face reality tomorrow.

 She tried not to think of the sunrise and the knowledge of the inevitable serious discussion they would have to have when the time came. 

 Finding comfort, for now, in the safety of the moonlight as they revelled in feeling as though they had no responsibility, wrapped up in the discussion of their interests and passions outside of training. 

 They stopped only to share sweet kisses or even to once again become a mess of tangled limbs as he eased them both slowly back into the throws of… what did he call it?

 Making love. 

 Hands gripping at each other's bodies, moans swallowed by each other's mouths, too absorbed with each other to even think about the world around them as she grabbed at his body for purchase, tugging at his hair without thinking. 

 She nearly felt bad for it, even through her sex-drunk daze, having not intended to grab him so harshly, but she was pleasantly surprised when she felt his hips sputter, moaning into her neck as he came again. 

 She found herself pocketing that knowledge in the back of her mind for later.

 He collapsed on top of her, being cautious to rest his weight on his arms, as to not crush her under him.

 She kept her hand in his hair, loosening her grip to gently massage his scalp lazily, arms as weak as the rest of her body as her chest heaved and her legs twitched. 

 His eyes closed at the feeling of her hand in his hair, revelling in the comfort he found within it and finding himself unwilling for it to stop. 

 He withdrew from her, both of them wincing with sensitivity and letting out small grunts at the feeling. But instead of rolling to her side or moving off of her, he chose to move down to rest his head against her chest, spreading his body across the mattress and bringing his hands to her sides, holding her dearly as he listened to her erratic heartbeat.

 She moved her other arm across his back, embracing him as she tried to calm her breathing and they stayed like that for a while, basking in their post-sex haze as her fingers trailed over his back and through his hair. 

 She found herself not thinking of the Jedi Code, or of their agreement to speak of the consequences of their own actions tomorrow, but of her happiness. Of the way her stomach fluttered when his fingers twitched against her side or the way her whole body felt tingly with excitement. 

 He sighed contentedly when she placed a gentle kiss to his head, moving to look up at her and she swears she feels his heart hammer against her stomach when they make eye contact. 

 She brushes his hair off of his forehead, smiling down at him and shaking her head. 

 “Your hair is a mess.” She teased, bringing both hands up to rake her fingers through his hair, smoothing it down from its previous nest-looking mop. 

 He laughed a genuine, hearty laugh as he brought his hand up to his head, helping her fix his hair as a small blush dusted his face. 

 “You really know how to keep the mood going, don’t you?” He jested, smirking down at her teasingly. 

 Her smile grew, laughing lightly as she came to the conclusion that she really liked this side of Luke Skywalker. 

 Relaxed, smiley and even a little goofy. Willing to joke around with her and reciprocating her light-hearted teasing. 

 His usual seriousness was endearing, one of the things that she’d actually always found attractive about him. But now, watching his eyes crinkle and his smile grow as he shook his head down at her, a gentle chuckle rumbling in his chest; she decided that, yes. She could get used to this. 

 Their bodies were sweaty and sticking together, hair tousled and messy as they lay gazing at each other with stupid, love-sick grins. It was then that a new thought struck her. 

 She moved her head, twisting her face into a look of pondering, as if in thought. To sell her performance even more, she brought a finger up to tap on her chin as she hummed, feigning indecision. 

 After a moment, she widened her eyes, as if to say ‘ah, i know!’

 “I think I know how to keep the mood going.” She teased, excited to keep their silly conversations going, desperate to see more of his goofy grin that she found herself enamoured by.  

 He played along, tilting his head in mock interest as he spoke.

 “Oh yeah?” He offered, smirking at the little joke she was playing. 

 She nodded, a mischief-ridden smile stretching across her face as she looked down at him, loving the way his eyes sparkled with excitement. She raised her eyebrows suggestively as she spoke; 

 “Wanna join me in the refresher?”

[keferon]

So if you look to your left you’ll— *gets run over by train*

————————

“What is this,” Prowl asked softly, shifting uncomfortably as he felt a pulse of fond amusement crawl through him.

“You really didn’t think it all the way through when you changed your form for me, huh,” Jazz laughed inside him chassis, his soothing voice coming through his comm system and directly into his audio receptors.

Prowl frowned as his TacNet started picking apart the words, trying to discern their meaning. That fond amusement brightened, causing his system to stutter just a bit. His optics widened just a bit as something foreign guided his TacNet to a new system he didn’t notice he had.

NCS.

Neurological Connection System.

What???

“For a pilot to work with a mech, there has to be a DRIFT system, the NCS was the one that ran in my mech. And because you scanned my mech, you got all its systems, on top of your own,” Jazz explained with a grin.

Something giddy flowed in, chasing around that fond amusement that Prowl could still feel. His optics shuddered as his processor skipped a beat or two, TacNet settling on an answer to what the foreign feelings were.

“That is you. That feeling… it’s you,” Prowl whispered, lifting a servo to place it over his chassis, where Jazz was nestled near his spark.

“Yeah, that’s me, Prowler. You said you wanted to feel my EM field a while ago. I… I don’t gotta field to share, but I have this,” Jazz replied just as soft, and Prowl wrapped his EM field in tight, cradling this new and foreign feeling of his human counterpart.

This was Jazz. Jazz’s human equivalent to an EM field. It… it was beautiful. Jazz’s little field bursted in joy and relief, and Prowl could have cried at how soft it was. This felt intimate, deeper than just sharing an EM field. Not quite like spark-bonding, but oh so close.

“It’s wonderful, Jazz,” Prowl finally whispered, smiling fondly, doorwings flaring wide as if he could sense more of the field if he spread his sensors out as wide as he could.

Jazz preened happily in his little cockpit, and Prowl couldn’t help but laugh softly. His little human was full of surprises it seems.

—————————-

Firstly, idk where I was going with this.

Secondly, it made sense to me that Pilots would have some kind of neural link with their mech to assist in fighting cause reaction times with just controls wouldn’t be as perfect. It would also make sense as to why the idea of FirstAid becoming a pilot out of nowhere would be terrifying because “how the fuck did you survive the neural link”. Vortex could be killing his pilots by literally overloading their brains with the neural link. *head explosion style idk*

In other words, human EM field! But pacific rim drift style! With body horror Halo Spartan experimentation! Yay!

Idk!

I’m running on 2hrs of sleep! I just had another coffee! Don’t try this at home kids!

O U G H I CAN'T BELIEVE I ALMOST MISSED THIS ASK THIS IS BEAUTIFUL KHKGKHL

[2stepadmiral]

After the reconstruction of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Han Solo's constant presence at the Temple begins to confuse the younger knights and apprentices.

At first, it makes some degree of sense. He usually shows up with Leia or one of his kids, and he is well-known as a friend and ally of the Order, so it makes sense for him to eat meals with Jaina, or attend meetings with the Masters, or assist Corran Horn in overseeing pilot training, or walk little Ben around the Stealth-X hangar. Plus, Lando Calrissian, Wedge Antilles, Booster Terrik, and Talon Karrde, also prominent allies and friends, are frequent visitors as well, so it makes sense.

But one day, some of the apprentices start noticing that Han is around a little bit more often than a non-member really should be. Maybe its been a while since he came for a briefing or training exercise, and maybe his reasons to visit lately have become a little too casual. Now, he's showing up alone just to try out the flight simulators new Chiss clawcraft program, or because it's nerf sausage day in the cafeteria, and more often than not, its on days where his kids are off on missions and Luke and Mara are tied up in council business.

It reaches a whole new level during a pilot exercise led by Corran, Kyp, and Jaina, when one of the apprentices ask who's the best pilot they know, and three of the Order's premiere pilots, two of whom are Rogue Squadron veterans and all three of whom spent most of the Yuuzhan Vong war in a cockpit, unanimously agree on Han Solo.

Then, two months later, when the Temple's security system is being updated and Master Kyle Katarn gives strict orders that no one is to enter or exit the temple until the update is completed, Han casually walks right up to the two senior apprentices guarding the temple entrance. When told that there's a security lockdown due to system updates, Han doesn't "want to hear about security updates, I want to know where my wife is. It's our wedding anniversary and I'm taking her someplace nice in the Falcon, now tell me where she is so we can get going." After several minutes of arguing, a visibly frustrated Han decides to just go get her himself, and when one of the apprentices tries to stop him, Han somehow disarms him of his lightsaber and throws it outside of his telekinetic range, leaving him chasing after his weapon and his partner following Han, trying to talk him into stopping. All while Jaden Korr is watching, shaking his head, and mouthing, "You'll be sorry."

Han quickly finds Jedi Knight and former New Republic Chief of Staff, and SHOCKS the two apprentices with his absolute immunity to her infamous and feared anger before sweet talking the lifelong diplomat into leaving the temple in the middle of the lockdown for an anniversary escapade. Then, he casually walks out of the Jedi Temple in the middle of a security lockdown like it's kriffing nothing with one of the most prominent Knights in the Order. And when the two apprentices finally get a hold of Master Katarn to advise that Han Solo just infiltrated the Temple and absconded with Jedi Organa-Solo, his reaction is something like "<pause> and you idiots actually tried to stop him?" "Well, yes, Master, you said no one comes in or out." "<pause> Yes, but what in the Sithspit made you think that you should try to stop Han Solo from getting to his wife on their anniversary?"

A month after that, he walks up to the High Council chambers right in the middle of a serious meeting. The apprentices standing watch outside (one of the same from the security incident) assume that he's been summoned to answer to the rumors that he started hosting a weekly Sabaac tournament in one of the temple classrooms (the rumor is completely true, just last week Kenth Hamner nearly ragequit after Han cleaned him out for the fifth consecutive week) and assure him that the Masters will call him when they're ready for him. Han ignores this and walks right in, right as the masters are in the middle of a discussion about potential Dark Jedi sightings on Corellia, to demand that Mara make good on all the lost bets she owes from the previous few Sabaac nights. After several minutes heated discussion (the Dark Jedi are almost forgotten at this point), the entire council comes out, and Master Cilghal informs the incredulous apprentices that Mara owes Han so many lunches from the Sabaac nights that it was agreed that she would just treat the entire council, as well as Han, to clear her tab. Mara is semi-sternly lecturing Han about interrupting council meetings for something so trivial, while Han is good-naturedly wondering if she's been deliberately scheduling meetings at lunchtime to avoid paying up, causing her to go curiously quiet (the apprentices are FLOORED that the infamously terrifying Mara Jade Skywalker isn't plugging him full of laser bolts for this whole interaction).

As the last one to leave, Luke stops to ask the apprentices if they're okay, having sensed their immense confusion.

"Well, Grand Master, it's just... it seems like Captain Solo gets away with whatever he wants. It's like the rules don't apply to him, and some of us have been wondering..." she gulps before continuing. "If it's maybe possible that Captain Solo is secretly not only a Jedi, but more powerful than you, and secretly the real Grand Master of the Order."

Grand Master Luke Skywalker, completely unable to resist this particular urge, rubs his chin thoughtfully, pretends to carefully consider the question for a moment, and then, with a small grin, responds: "That's a interesting question, Apprentice. Perhaps he is," before walking away, grinning like mad, while the apprentices stare incredulously at his back.

[cuntyji]

high school au, don’t be weird about the age please…..🙏😝

choso’s heart is so stupid.

dumb and pink and fluttery, like it doesn’t know he’s seventeen and should’ve grown out of this by now.

but then again, you just said “good morning” again, and now his brain’s doing cartwheels.

he doesn’t say anything back. just kind of nods. like an idiot. and then you’re walking away and he’s left staring at the ground like it’s personally betrayed him.

“that was the worst one yet,” he mutters, marching himself into the boys’ bathroom like it’s a war room. “i didn’t even smile. did i smile? i looked constipated. i definitely looked constipated.”

he opens his notebook. not his diary—he tells himself this one’s just notes. 

it is very much a diary.

7:46 AM she said good morning again. this time i think there was a tone? like soft? i’ve decided she probably meant it. maybe i’ll say something back tomorrow. (side note: do not forget to talk about the newly discovered stegosaurus tail vertebra thing if conversation happens. she will think it’s cool. she HAS to think it’s cool.)

and like clockwork, his brain tosses him back into fifth grade like it’s the most humiliating romcom ever filmed.

he was sitting alone at the lunch table, building a sad, half-destroyed lego spaceship with mismatched bricks because he forgot to pack all the parts. then you came over—uninvited. terrifying.

“that’s the x-wing model from the 2014 set, right?” you asked, like it was nothing.

he almost choked on his juice box. 

“how do you know that?”

you shrugged. “i have it. i made a custom one with an ankylosaurus in the cockpit, though. the regular pilot was boring.”

he stared at you for a full five seconds. and in that time, he saw god.

“…dinosaurs and lego?”

“duh,” you said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“also, the stegosaurus is cooler than the t-rex. don’t argue. i have charts.”

he’d been in love ever since. 

and he’s been preparing—training—to have a full conversation with you for seven years. today is supposed to be the day.

“okay. okay, today’s the day,” he tells himself as he stands in front of your locker with a look of absolute terror on his face. you’re coming. you’re coming and he hasn’t thought of a segue yet—he can’t just open with “did you know spinosaurus might’ve been semi-aquatic?” that’s serial killer behavior.

you spot him. smile. and he short-circuits.

“i—I LIKE—” choso blurts. 

“uh. bricks.”

“bricks?” you blink.

“lego bricks. and, um. dinosaurs. because they’re cool. like you. not like you, i mean—well—you’re not extinct. or—”

you’re smiling again. worse. you’re laughing. so much worse. but you don’t walk away, and choso feels his ears go red all the way to the tips.

“okay,” you say, “what kind of dinosaurs?”

he can’t feel his legs. but god, he’s alive.

“…how much time do you have?”

[finelinefae]

the aviator [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]

synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry is the best pilot on the Air Force base and y/n is a teacher at a nursery.

word count: 8.5k

contains: fluff, flirting, opposites attract, bad boy/good girl dynamic, Harry has a southern accent, alcohol, smoking, allusions to childhood trauma

This is part 1 of a new series that will probably have 3-ish parts !!

. . .

Offutt Air Force Base, situated in Omaha, Nebraska, housed thousands of civilians working in or connected to the military.  People living in the nearby town would often hear the loud plane engines as they take off and land on the runway. They’d look out the windows of their home and see spitfires piloted by men undergoing training, executing missions, or just having a good time, even when they technically weren’t given permission. 

“Wah Hooo!” The spitfire trembled as it finally landed on solid ground. Harry braced himself for the landing, pushing himself back against his seat to stop himself from jolting around. He did his best to hide his smile and remain nonchalant as he heard the familiar voices yelp in excitement as he landed the aircraft. 

He removed his helmet and pushed the canopy of the cockpit open, leaping down and getting familiar with feeling the solid ground beneath his feet after being in the air. Two figures ran up to him, flailing their arms and screeching in excitement, “Tha’s what I’m talking about!” Harry opened his arms, unable to stop himself from laughing the two men almost knocked him over as they joined in a group hug. 

“You flew her like a champ, H. Never seen anything like that in my life.” Harry looked into two sets of eyes an identical colour to his own. 

Standing in front of him were his two brothers, Sonny and George. All three of them were pilots in the military and had been since they left school to sign up after the War. There wasn’t too much age difference between them which was probably one of the reasons the brothers were so close.  Harry was the oldest, just over a year senior to George, who happened to be taller despite being the middle child, and Sonny was the youngest.

“Yeah well, she still needs some work. One of her engine cylinders is faulty.” The three of them walked side by side towards the maintenance shed. Despite their differences in height, anyone would assume the three brothers were triplets from how similar they looked. Most people on base knew them for their signature sea-glass green eyes and their brown hair. 

“Oh I’ll go and tell Ruddy, he might still be here.” Sonny ran ahead 

“Oh and Sonny,” Harry called for his younger brother, “Good job.” Harry winked at his younger brother, referring to his work on the plane he had just flown. In response, Sonny straightened his shoulders and smiled feeling proud after receiving a compliment from his older brother. 

Harry and George both lit a cigarette each, pausing outside the door to the warehouse to smoke together. “I opened up a letter this morning from Ma.” George exhaled, smoke escaping past his lips. 

Harry tried not to show his annoyance, “Wha’d she say?” He grumbled.

“She misses us… All of us and she wants us to stop by, come visit for dinner one day maybe.” George explained.

“Is she still with that old bastard?” Harry looked up at his younger brother.

George nodded, “Last time I heard.”

“Then we’re not going, none of us are.” Harry thought back to the last time he had allowed himself and his siblings to visit his mother. It was going well in the beginning, she’d cooked them up a roast pork and engaged in conversation, until their Father came home. It wasn’t long into their visit before they left the house and Sonny had gone home with a black eye whilst Harry had to get his hand stitched up at a hospital on the journey back.

Harry had grown up in Dallas, Texas, in a tacky old house that barely stood upright just on the outside of town. Whilst his Father was out working on a ranch somewhere and getting pissed up every night, Harry would spend most of his days keeping the house together whilst tending to his younger siblings. His mother was often somewhere in the house - nobody knew exactly what she was doing, since she wasn’t exactly all there half the time - but she was there.

Every visit they made back home was a reminder as to why they had entered the military in the first place. Whenever their mother would send them a letter, it was either because she wanted something or wanted them to come home so she could ask for that same something in person. The last time Harry had bought his siblings home was the first time in years. He thought his mother would be different yet he had no idea why - she was still letting that old man walk around as if he was the one who kept the house from falling. 

“Sonny and I agreed you’re picking up Elise from nursery by the way,” George smirked, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his foot. 

“You and Sonny agreed that?” Harry frowned, receiving a nod from his brother, “I’ve been flying all day and y’ still want me to go pick up the baby?”

George clapped his older brother on the shoulder, “We’ve both got to help out in the warehouse this evening and besides, you’re Offutt's best pilot, I think you can handle picking up a two-year-old on the way home.” 

Harry didn’t have time to argue with his brother as he stepped into the warehouse. He let out a deep sigh and took one puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. He put his flight cap on his head to cover his messy hair and straightened his aviator jacket, walking towards the nursery. 

. . .

“How have you found your first day Y/N?” Midge, one of the other nursery workers asked as they stood at the sink together to wash up some of the paint pots a few of the kids had been playing with in the afternoon. 

“It’s been wonderful, Midge.” Y/N grinned. Although she was tired, she also felt ecstatic to finally be working again after months of searching for a new job.  She had always been good with children thanks to her older sister having a kid of her own for her to babysit now and then. So when the opportunity arose to work a well-paying job at a nursery on the military base, she couldn’t pass it up. They’d even offer her free accommodation and discounted food for groceries which was perfect considering she didn’t have much of any of those things when she was living alone.

“I expect most of the kids will be getting picked up soon,” Midge glanced at the clock, “Everyone will be returning from work.”

Y/N hadn’t expected pick up time at the nursery to be so busy but fathers and mothers bustled in to pick up their children to take them home all at once. Once the majority of the kids had been picked up, Y/N glanced around to see the mess that had been left from the day that she’d have to clean up by herself. Her shoulders dropped as she landed on a small figure, realising she wasn’t completely alone yet. 

“Elise, what are you doing?” Y/N smiled at the tiny girl playing in the corner, she was picking up picture books and flicking through them as if she were actually reading them. Y/N crouched down in front of the small toddler, “Are you enjoying those?” 

Elise just grinned, picking something up with her small fingers and trying to put it in her mouth. Her brown, curly ringlets were no longer in uneven bunches like they had been this morning and her overalls were covered in food and paint stains. Y/N picked up the two-year-old to place in her lap, “Shall we read something before your dad comes to get you?” Elise babbled a reply. 

Halfway through their fifth book, Elise was near enough asleep on Y/N’s lap. It had already been an hour since all of the other children went home and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. Y/N carefully picked Elise up so her head was on her shoulder and it was comfy enough to sleep as she stepped towards the telephone to see if Elise’s father was coming to pick her up. 

As her hand went to pick up the telephone, a voice stopped her, “Hello?” It was deep and southern and husky like he had just smoked a cigarette or two, “I’m here to pick up Elise.” 

Y/N turned around, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall figure leaning casually against the door frame. He wore a brown leather aviator jacket and grey trousers, with his flight cap tucked under his arm. His piercing green eyes, similar to Elise's, met hers, framed by brown curly hair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. 

Y/N had never seen anyone like him in her entire life. 

“Y-yes,” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look away from his intense gaze. She stood and walked over to where he stood by the door with Elise in his arms, “You must be Elise’s father.” 

“M her brother,” He corrected. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, too busy gawking at him to actually pay attention. 

“M Elise’s brother, one out of three of her brothers to be exact.” He repeated, his eyes glancing at the sleeping girl Y/N was holding. 

“O-oh,” She blushed, “My bad, you look so similar I thought you were her father.”

“Easy mistake,” Harry smirked, “Would you like me to take her from you?” 

“Yes, of course,” Y/N gently removed Elise from her and passed her to Harry.

“There we go,” He cooed as Elise whimpered at the sudden movement, “There’s m’ little Elise.” 

Y/N thought her ovaries might explode as she watched the pilot interact with the small girl in his arms, making sure she was comfortable enough so she could remain asleep. “Are you new here ma’am?” Harry spoke his focus now back on Y/N.

“Yes actually, today’s my first day here,” She explained. 

“No wonder, I ain’t ever seen y’ around the place. How’re you liking it so far?” 

“I’ve only been here a couple of days but it’s been nice. Working here at the nursery has been lovely too,” 

“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curled, “I hope this one hasn’t been giving y’ much trouble. She can be a little devil with my younger brothers.” 

Y/N immediately shook her head, “No, she’s been lovely honestly. Think I spent most of the day with Elise out of all the other children.” 

Y/N noticed how Harry focused on her face as she spoke to him, every now and then his eyes would dart to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes, “Y got any friends here?” 

She paused, “Any friends?” 

“Yeah, you know,” He half smiled, it felt almost flirty but maybe Y/N was just imagining it, “People y’ like to hang out with.”

“Uh yeah, I share a house with a few of the girls who work in various places around the base. I get along with most of them and the ladies who work here at the nursery too.” Y/N explained, cringing at how awkward she was and how she’d probably be replaying this conversation back later only to die of embarrassment of all the things she said. 

“Y’ know there’s a dance down at the community centre this Friday, y’ should come, oh and invite some of those friends of yours too.” 

“Oh I don’t know, I think I’m working this Friday and-” 

“A lot of my buddies who I fly with go there sometimes - a good time they said. It might be a good chance to meet some of the people here,” He shrugged, “Could offer y’ a dance or two if you’d like.” 

Y/N wondered if all this was really happening right now or if she was just so tired that she was hallucinating, “O-okay,”

Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Well alright then,”

“Alright then,” Y/N tried to keep her smile at bay as she took it as his queue to leave. She kept the door open so he could easily step out as he walked backwards with Elise in his arms and his eyes still on Y/N even as he said nothing. 

“So I’ll see y’ at the dance?” 

“Maybe,” Y/N shrugged, even though she had already decided she was most definitely going to the dance. 

“Alright, maybe I’ll see y’ at the dance then,” Harry responded with a light, amused chuckle. 

Y/N watched as he turned his back and began to walk down the dirt road until he stopped briefly and spun around, “I didn’t catch y’name by the way,” He called out to her.

Y/N cupped her mouth, “It’s Y/N,”

“Y/N,” He said the name like he was testing how it sounded, “M Harry. Hey, I better see y’ at that dance Y/N, I don’t handle rejection all that well.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can believe that,” She yelled back.

“I’d say goodbye but I wanna see y’ at that dance so I’ll say goodnight instead.” Harry said with a casual salute before turning and continuing down the road.

Y/N shut the door and leaned against it, clutching her hands over her chest in complete disbelief. Her sister had warned her the pilots on the base would be young men near enough her own age and that she ought to be careful hanging around them. However, her sister hadn’t warned her that a man like Harry would stumble over to her workplace to pick up his sister and invite her to a dance on Friday night.

Y/N quickly cleaned up the nursery, shoving things into boxes and wiping down the tables, before grabbing her coat and running down the road to her house.

On every street on the housing estate, there was a row of houses that all looked the same but were owned by different types of people. Some had big families all living under one roof, others were men who lived alone. Y/N’s house was the first house on the street. It was a traditionally designed home with a pitched roof, a small front porch and symmetrical windows. She shared it with three other girls who all worked different jobs across the Air Force base. 

The sun had already set by the time she entered the house. All the lights were turned on and the gentle music of Buddy Holly sounded from the living room. Y/N kicked off her heels and hung up her coat, walking to the living room where Patsy and Molly were lounging on the couch. Molly had Patsy’s foot in her lap as she painted her toenails a wine red. 

Y/N collapsed on the couch next to Molly, “What’s wrong? Work not go so well?” Molly inquired.

“No,” Y/N huffed, resting her head on Molly’s shoulder, “It was wonderful.”

“Well, what’s got you so blue Peggy Sue,” Patsy questioned, her tone playful. She was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette. 

“A man came into work after everybody left to pick up one of the girls, Elise.” Y/N clarified. 

“You mean Elise Styles?” Molly asked. 

Y/N sat up, “Yes, you know her?” 

“Just about every woman on this base knows her. She’s the Styles’ little sister.” Molly explained, “We’ve all had to babysit her at least once for those brothers.” 

“Yeah and neither of us will be doing it again,” Patsy piped up, as if reminding Molly. 

“Oh, you must know Harry then,” Molly paused, shoving Patsy’s foot off of her lap and turning to face Y/N.

“Is he the man you’re sighing over?” Patsy’s magazine fell to the floor as she too stopped to listen. 

Y/N furrowed her brows, confused by their reaction, “Y-yes, what about him?”

“What about him?” Molly stood, grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lighting it up, “Y/N you oughta be careful around all three of those brothers but especially Harry.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N glanced at Patsy who nodded in agreement with Molly. 

“That boy is not good news. He’s Offutt’s best pilot and he thinks that gives him the right to go around sniffing out every woman that steps foot onto this base.” Y/N frowns, watching as Molly begins to pace back and forth, “He didn’t ask you to go out with him did he?”

“Well he asked me to the dance on Friday. The one at the community centre.” 

“Oh, I bet he did!’ Molly exclaimed, “Listen Y/N, I’m telling you this because I don’t want any trouble for you. That boy is no good, he’s slept with half the ladies residing here and even the wives too I bet! He asked Patsy to go out to dinner with him one night and stood her up to go see another woman.”

Y/N glanced at Patsy, “He was flirting with two different women inbetween the moment he asked and our date a week later.” She added. 

“That’s right. Y/N darlin’, we shoulda warned y’ before y’ stepped foot out of this house this morning. Those Styles brothers will mess you around and leave y’ lonely for sport. You’re too nice to deserve all of that.” 

Y/N's shoulders slumped, “But he seemed so… nice.” Y/N pictured Harry with Elise and how gentle he was with her. 

“He’s not a bad person Y/N but when it comes to women, there’s no guessing what that man turns into.”

“Everyone’s heard plenty of things about why they came here too. If you ask me, his home wasn’t exactly a perfect example to him.” Patsy said.

“Well, whatever reason, best stay away from him.” Molly finished. 

Y/N heaved a sigh, “So I shouldn’t go to the dance on Friday?”

“Oh no, we’ll go to the dance. Harry’s not the only fine, young pilot on base I’ll tell you that.” Molly smirked and Patsy cheered with excitement at the thought of going out Friday night. 

Y/N attempted to smile, but she couldn't shake off the sadness upon realising that the man she had met earlier in the evening wasn't as kind as she had initially believed. Molly fell back onto the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, “Cheer up sweet cheeks. I’m sure plenty of men will want to take you out after this dance.” 

Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for Molly's comforting presence. "Thanks, Molly," she murmured, leaning into her friend's embrace.

"Yeah, plenty of fish in the sea, darlin'. You'll find one that's worth your time." Patsy chimed in.

Feeling a bit more reassured by her friends' words, Y/N nodded. "You're right. I can’t let one bad apple ruin my night."

Molly squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "That's the spirit! Now let's focus on having a great time at the dance. We can tell you about some of the other fellas who live here too."

With her friends' support, Y/N felt an inkling of hope return. She might have been disappointed by one man, but she wasn't about to let it dampen her spirits for the rest of the evening. She was glad she told her friends about her interaction with Harry and now she was left with one rule stitched into the back of her mind.

Keep away from Harry Styles. 

. . .

The night sky was clear enough to see the stars glittering against the pitch-black backdrop. A soft, gentle breeze flowed through the air as Harry lay back on the swinging chair on the front porch of the house he shared with his three brothers. 

This was his favourite time of day when it was completely silent and the air was cool and crisp. He didn’t like the nights so much when he was living with his parents. After midnight, or sometimes just before, his father would come in through the backdoor stinking the place up with alcohol and waking everyone up with his nightly rampages. 

Nowadays, the nighttime was the most relaxing part of the day and Harry savoured every second of it. He often finds himself sat out on the porch after putting Elise to bed. He’d smoke a cigarette or two, and maybe play his guitar a little bit. 

Tonight felt a little different though. Whilst his brothers were upstairs trying to put a fussy Elise to bed after she’d napped when he brought her home from nursery, he came outside and could think of nothing but the woman he found holding his little sister in her arms. 

Harry knew everyone on base the same way they knew him. He recognised faces easily and had at least one brief encounter with everyone he met in passing. However, the face he had met for the first time this evening was unfamiliar and new. 

Her features were delicate and angelic, with large doe eyes that held a hint of shyness to them. A soft, rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her lips were full and plush that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Her movements were gentle and her voice was airy and sweet, Harry thought of her stuttering and the way she’d blush whenever she spoke. He hadn’t seen anything like her in his life - he wasn’t a religious or spiritual person but, at that moment, he was pretty sure an angel had landed right in front of his very eyes. 

Even her name sounded as though it came from some kind of mythical text - one full of beauty and purity, love and light. 

Harry wasn’t the purist of men, far from it. He had slept in the beds of women he couldn’t remember the name of and indulged in his fair share of reckless behaviour. But in the presence of Y/N, he felt an unfamiliar stirring within him, a sense of longing tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t so sure he was ready to find out yet. 

He lit a cigarette with a matchstick and exhaled into the air, tendrils of smoke dancing above him. The sound of footsteps thudding inside of the house as someone walked downstairs, broke the silence he had been basking in. 

The door swung open and George stepped out, “Finally managed to get Elise to settle down though it took a whole round of nursery rhymes. Sonny’s still up there now, he’s afraid she’ll wake up again if he stops singing.” George took a cigarette from the pack Harry had in his pocket, “I thought you told those ladies at the nursery not to let her nap before she comes home.” 

“I did,” Harry spoke, his voice husky. 

“What? They didn’t listen to y’?” George chuckled. 

“There’s a new worker. I’ll let her know next time I see her.” Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Y/N that Elise wasn’t allowed to sleep so late in the afternoon because it was harder to get her to go to bed at night. He didn’t seem to have the heart to as he watched her hold the small girl in her arms. 

George scoffed, “A new worker? Is she a knockout at least?” 

Harry didn’t reply, instead asking,  “What do y’ think about the three of us going to the dance at the Community Centre on Friday?” 

George laughed until he realised his brother wasn’t laughing with him, “You’re serious?” 

The door swung open again and out stepped Sonny, “I swear if that baby wakes up, you two can sit in there and dance circles around her singing Miss Muffet for all I care. I ain’t doing that again.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “Can y’ pass me a cigarette, George?” 

George handed the cigarette to Sonny, “Hey Sonny, Harry wants to know if we’ll go to the dance at the Community Centre this Friday.”

Sonny chuckled but that quickly went away, “Oh shit really?”

“Yeah tha’s what I thought,” George said.

“You got your eye on someone Harry?” Sonny spoke, “Is it that girl from the med centre? She sure is something.”

Harry sat up and turned to face his two brothers, “No, it’s not that,” He lied, “Jus’ thought we could go do something other than sit around and drink at the bar.” 

“But the dance?” Sonny quirked a brow, “You hate dances.”

“I never said that,” Harry said, even though he always made it known how much he hated the dances they held every Friday night. 

“No, I definitely think I remember y’ saying dances were for people who wanted to get laid but couldn’t,” George spoke, backing up his younger brother who nodded in agreement. 

“Alright,” Harry held his hands up, “Alright maybe I did say that. C’mon, what are you, Gunther and Francis? Sit down the pair of you.” They followed their older brother's orders, sitting on the seats opposite him. “Maybe there is a girl.” He sighed.

“Oh yeah?” Sonny smirked.

“Yeah, little shit,” Harry chuckled, “So if you could both do me a favour and get yourselves cleaned up Friday night because we’re going to a shitty dance and I won’t be having either of y’ covered in grease and soot.”

“Okay, alright, H.” George took a puff of his cigarette, “But you’re paying for drinks after.”  Harry shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle.

. . .

Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror when Friday night rolled around. She had left the nursery in a hurry, needing as much time as possible to get ready for the dance at the Community Centre. She had been wracked with nerves all week, knowing there was a high chance she would see Harry there and she’d have to do her best to ignore him like Molly had told her to. 

She had picked out her outfit the night before. It was one of her best dresses- a lovely duck egg blue, satin fabric with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her decolletage. From the waist, the skirt flowed down in a full, flared A-line silhouette, gently swaying with every step. She wore white low heels on her feet and decided to carry a small purse with her too. 

Most of her time in the evening was spent on her hair and makeup. Y/N had almost used an entire can of hairspray to ensure her hair would stay intact the whole night. Molly had even given her a French manicure the night before and she spent the whole day at the nursery trying her best not to ruin her perfectly shaped nails. 

It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into going somewhere and it was all for a measly dance. There would be many other pretty girls who had spent more or less time on dressing up who probably had a better chance of catching the eye of a man than Y/N did. Yet she wasn’t hoping for the attention of just any man. 

Even though Molly and Patsy had warned her of Harry’s nature, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled and the sound of his voice as he spoke in that deep, southern drawl. Every time she thought of going to the dance, he would appear in her mind. Maybe she didn’t necessarily want anything from him but she wanted to at least catch his eye enough to make a lasting impression on him. 

Y/N applied a little more powder to her nose and did one final check in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, “This will have to do,” She muttered, grabbing her purse. 

Patsy and Molly were already downstairs drinking margaritas and listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player. “Oh and another one comes to join us,” Molly grinned, wearing a navy, spotty dress with a red belt wrapped around her small waist. 

“What took you so long?” Patsy grinned, pouring a drink in a martini glass and handing it to Y/N.

“O-oh no thank you, I don’t drink.” Y/N shook her head and forced a smile out of politeness.

“What? You don’t?” Patsy replied like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Oh c’mon! Just one little sip - liquid courage and all that.” Molly took the glass from Patsy to give to Y/N who forced herself to take it from her. She held the glass to her lips, taking one small sip and feeling a tiny burn from the alcohol. 

“Good right?” Molly smirked, lighting a cigarette and holding the packet open to Y/N. 

“No thank you, I don’t smoke either.” Y/N laughs nervously. 

“Fair enough,” Molly shrugs, passing the pack over to Patsy who happily takes one for herself. 

Y/N places her drink on the table, knowing she won’t be touching it again. “We’ll be heading out in a moment, we’re just waiting on one more.” As if she could hear them talking about her, footsteps thumped down the stairs and into the living room.

Y/N’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the tall, blonde standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline that showed off her bust and a tight waistline that accentuated her curves. The strands of her golden, blonde hair were tied back into a high ponytail with her fringe perfectly curled. She wore red lipstick on her plump lips which made the blue in her eyes even brighter than they already were. 

“You’ve been in your room for hours, Nancy,” Patsy whined. 

“Yes well, I don’t just plan on getting wasted tonight Patsy.” Nancy retorted. 

Nancy was Y/N's other housemate, but Y/N didn't know her as well as she knew Patsy and Molly. Even though they lived together, Nancy seemed a bit distant compared to the latter two, who were friendly and nice. Nancy would smile politely, but she didn't say much else. Oftentimes, Y/N would get a strange feeling about Nancy like how she would make little comments that seemed to be jabs masked by forced politeness or how sometimes it felt like Nancy enjoyed pointing out Y/N's mistakes, like how she did her laundry or what groceries she bought. She wasn’t sure what she had done to upset Nancy but Y/N hoped it was just her over-thinking that made her believe she was this way and that tonight would allow them to get to know each other a little better. 

Nancy’s eyes fell on Y/N and looked her up and down, “Nice dress,” She said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

“Thank you,” Y/N offered her a smile but received nothing in return. 

“Alright ladies,” Molly stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s go catch us a few good men.”

“A few?” Patsy giggled.

“You’re right, I think a few is a little too much for this place.” Molly huffed and led the way out of the house and towards the community centre. 

Y/N could hear the live music coming from the centre as they walked down the street. Patsy and Molly were stumbling ahead, arms linked together as they laughed side by side. Y/N tried not to laugh at her friends as she walked alongside Nancy. 

“You planning on hooking up with anybody tonight?” Nancy’s voice broke the silence between them. 

“No I don’t think so,” Y/N replies. 

Nancy scoffs, “These dances are mostly for that you know, better prepare yourself when a fella tries to talk to you.”

“You think they’ll want to?” Y/N asked, hopeful.

Nancy glanced at her, “I’m sure they’ll snatch you right up those pilot boys.”

Y/N blushes, “Is there anyone you’ve got your eyes on tonight Nancy?” She liked this, conversing with Nancy. She hoped this would be the start of breaking the ice between them and maybe they could become friends eventually, or at least build acquaintances. 

Nancy smirks, “Only one.” She said nothing after that. 

The girls walked into the community centre which was already full of people from all over the airbase. A live band was playing Elvis Presley songs, the music blaring into Y/N’s ears once they stepped inside. “Any of you girls want a drink-”

“Molly is that Everett?” Patsy pointed to a man in the corner, talking to a woman. 

Molly’s face scrunched up, “I guess he’s back from Italy.”

Nancy interrupted the conversation, her eyes darting across the room like she was searching for somebody, “You girls grab something to drink, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Who’s Everett?” Y/N asked Patsy as they walked towards the drinks table. 

“A guy Molly had a thing with last year,” Patsy explained.

“Yeah until he told me he was going to Italy for a year and wanted to break things off so he could get laid by an Italian woman.” Molly ranted, leading the girls to the drinks table. 

A bowl of punch resided in the centre of the table, Molly grabbed the ladle and poured them all a drink. Y/N took a sip and allowed her eyes to scan the room. Couples were dancing in the centre whilst others spoke in groups off to the side.  

Eventually, her eyes caught sight of a group of men walking through the door. Each one of them was dressed in a similar uniform, a navy blue tailored jacket and matching, fitted trousers. She watched as an entire group of them continued to flood in through the doors until the last man stepped through. 

He was wearing the same uniform as the others and his hair was gelled back with one curl falling in front of his forehead, unlike the messy curls she had seen when they first met. Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he weaved through the crowd and interacted with people as he walked past them. Everyone seemed to know him from the looks of it. He exuded confidence and bravado, people’s faces lighting up whenever he stopped to talk to them.

“Patsy?” One of the boys spoke. 

“Here we go,” Molly muttered, forcing a smile. 

A man with features that looked similar to the man Y/N had been eyeing, walked up to them with a taller man following him. “Hi Sonny,” Patsy greeted. 

“Y’ sure know how to make yourself look good when you want to,” He winked, eyeing her up and down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patsy put both her hands on her waist. 

“You know what I mean,” Sonny argued, realising he might have said something to offend her even though he had no idea what that might be. 

“Hi,” The taller man behind him spoke. Y/N looked up and was met with familiar green eyes except they were a little bit lighter than the ones she had seen. 

“Hi,” Y/N blushed.

“I’m George. Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” He wondered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the crowd as he spoke. 

“Y-Yes, I arrived recently actually. I just started working at the nursery.” She clarified. 

“Oh, the nursery! You must know my little sister Elise.”  Y/N’s lips turned upwards thinking of the little girl she had been spending so much time with over the last few days. Since her first day, Elise had constantly been wanting her attention whether it was to nap or play with things or read books. “You must have met my older brother then.”

“Older brother?” Y/N didn’t have enough time to register as George glanced around the room and called out his brother’s name. 

“Harry, c’mere!” He called. 

Harry’s head turned towards them in the middle of his conversation. His eyes landed on his brother until they found hers. He offered a small smile and began to walk towards them with a drink already in his hand, “This is one of the new workers at Elise’s nursery.” George introduced even though he didn’t really need to. 

“Yes, we’ve already met,” Harry said and Y/N thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sound of his voice. “Hi there,”

“Hello,” Y/N smiled, shyly.

“So you came?” He teased. 

“I did.” She laughed, lightly. 

“And these are y’ friends?” He looked to Patsy and Molly who were bickering with Sonny who seemed to have said something else to offend them, George now joining in on the argument as he let Harry and Y/N talk. 

“Yeah, they’re my friends,” Y/N said, feeling nervous under his gaze. But despite her nerves, she couldn't deny the thrill of being the focus of his attention.

“Good to know,” He murmured, “Y come here with anyone else?” 

"Um, no, just the girls from my house," Y/N stuttered, feeling a rush of nerves as Harry's gaze lingered on her. "I don't know that many people. Other than the girls I live with and the ones from the nursery, who are all lovely, by the way," she added, her words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her flustered state. "You know me too," he stated, his tone playful as he leaned in closer. 

Y/N gulped the air she breathed just as the lights in the centre dimmed. The fast-paced music began to slow down and couples gathered to the dance floor to slow dance together. “Y wanna dance with me Y/N?” Harry asked. 

“I-I’m not very good at it,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. It was impossible to resist the charm that radiated from him.

He held out the palm of his hand and Y/N’s lips parted as she glanced down at it, “S just swaying tha’s all. Think y’ can do that?” 

Y/N hesitantly nodded, her pulse quickening as Harry's long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. A tingling sensation danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise in response to his touch. He led her to the centre of the dancefloor and turned around so they were face to face. Harry took both of Y/N's hands in his own, his touch sending electric currents coursing through her veins. With a tender yet confident touch, he trailed his fingers down her arms, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. As his hands settled at her waist, Y/N's breath turned shallow, her heart racing as the music floated through the air. 

She was stiff at first, unable to relax until he leant forward and whispered, “Relax birdy,” She felt his breath against her neck as he spoke. He squeezed her waist a little and she dropped her shoulders, trying her best to loosen up under the circumstances. 

“Birdy?” Y/N spoke, questioning the new nickname.

“I spotted y’ as soon as I stepped through the door. Your dress is blue ‘n it reminded me of the bluebirds I used to see back home whenever I’d go up in the mountains with my grandpa.” He explained. 

“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”

“I searched for y’ as soon as I walked in. I only came because of you, if I couldn’t find y’ I’d probably just turn back and go to a bar or something.” He chuckled and Y/N laughed with him.

“No Elise?” She questioned, unable to stop herself from asking about the little girl she had become fond of. 

“Elise is staying with the family next door. Little rascal tried to get ketchup on my uniform,” He rolled his eyes, “I got a free house if that’s what you’re implying though.”

Y/N’s face turned beat red, “N-No that’s not what I’m implying at all.”

“M just messin’” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N relaxed, composing herself and trying to pull herself together, “I’ve heard things about you, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked, “What things?”

“Just things.” Y/N felt his fingertips press her skin for a moment.

“And do you believe these things?” Harry murmured, leaning in a little closer.

Y/N looked him in the eye, trying to see if she could read him without having to ask him a thousand questions, “I don’t know yet.” 

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sudden change in music and the lights turning on above them. People cheered as they gathered back into big groups and began dancing again. Harry bit back a grin, shaking his head, “Y wanna come outside with me?” He asked, shouting over the loud music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her through the crowd of people. 

The air was cold once they stepped outside. Harry led her over to a small bench nearby where fewer people were gathered. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her the pack, “Oh no thank you, I don’t smoke.” She declined, politely. 

Harry smiled around his cigarette, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a beat or two as he casually slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. The air between them was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of music drifting from inside the centre. Sensing Y/N's slight shiver, Harry swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without saying a word.

"But you'll get cold," Y/N protested, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Don't y’ worry about me. I don't get cold," Harry quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shrugged off her concern. His white t-shirt revealed toned arms adorned with a few tattoos littering his tanned skin. 

As Harry tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night air, Y/N couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with effortless confidence. Gathering her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation.

"Were those your brothers back there?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Yeah, Sonny and George," Harry confirmed with a hint of pride in his voice.

"They look so much like you," Y/N remarked, her curiosity piqued.

"Strong genes, I suppose," Harry shrugged, his tone becoming more serious as he opened up about his family background. 

"What about you? Do you have any siblings?" He inquired.

"Just an older sister and my little niece, Rosie Jean," Y/N replied, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought of her family.

"And your parents?" Harry pressed, his gaze intense as he studied her reaction.

"My parents are doctors, they work at a surgery in town," Y/N explained, feeling a pang of homesickness as she reminisced about her upbringing.

"And yours?" She prompted, turning the conversation back to Harry.

"M parents are nobodies," Harry's voice took on a sombre tone, clearly his family life was a sensitive topic. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N chose her next words carefully.

"What about Elise?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood with talk of his sister.

"Elise is better off being raised by us three than being left alone in a house with batshit crazy," Harry scoffed, his protective instincts kicking in.

Feeling the weight of their conversation, Y/N searched for a way to lift Harry's spirits. "What made you want to be a pilot?" she asked, genuinely interested.

“Sonny came home wanting to sign up for cadet training after they visited his school. He came home running through the doors with a flyer in his hand and told everybody he was going into the army. I told him ‘No brother of mine is going anywhere that requires trench foot and guns.’ He didn’t talk to me for a week after that. It wasn’t until I found an advertisement where y’ could train to fly planes when I decided I was gonna make a better life for myself and my siblings. It just so happened Sonny and George wouldn’t let me go at it alone.” He inhaled his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. 

As Harry shared the story of how he and his brothers found their way to Offutt, Y/N couldn't help but admire his determination. She found herself drawn to him even more, captivated by his strength and the way he always included his brother’s in everything he spoke about. 

A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Harry smoothly slid his hand next to hers, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. 

"Have I told y’ how beautiful y’look tonight?" Harry's voice was soft, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her heart race.

Y/N blushed at his compliment, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "You're lying," she protested, feeling a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks.

"I swear it," Harry insisted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Swear on m’ life, birdy."

Y/N's heart fluttered at the nickname, a secret thrill running through her as she turned to face him. His eyes held a tenderness that melted her defences, and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Hi, birdy," Harry murmured, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he leaned in closer.

"Hi, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she savoured the moment.

Harry's shoulders dropped and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he seemed to be fighting to contain it. “I can’t lie to y’ birdy, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words. “I was gonna lie and tell y’ I’d been thinking about it since I saw you tonight but… quite honestly, I think I've been dreaming of y’ since I met y’ the other day.” 

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she felt as though someone had put a zipper straight across her mouth and she couldn’t get it to open. All she could feel was every muscle in her body beating against her skin as though they were trying to force her to surge forward and kiss him herself. “Y-You can if you want,” She stuttered, cheeks pink.

Harry laughed, “What about if you want? Can’t go kissin’ y’ if y’ don’t want it birdy.” 

“I do want it,” Y/N nodded. 

“Yeah?” He spoke but it came out more like a whisper. 

“Yeah.” Y/N gulped, feeling nervous. 

Harry didn’t hesitate once the word had left her mouth. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, soft and exploratory. Y/N's heart fluttered as she melted into the warmth of Harry's embrace, her senses flooded with the taste of his lips and the scent of his cedarwood cologne.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their kisses deepening with each passing second. Harry's arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her as close to him as possible. 

In that instant, everything else faded away—the noise of the party, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of their first kiss. 

They were both breathless as they pulled apart. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry already looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion and intense desire. She noticed his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip and she couldn’t help but giggle when she noticed the red lipstick stain she had left on his mouth from her kiss. 

“Where abouts do you live?” Harry murmured.

“Clemon Street,” Y/N spoke, her voice coming out a whisper. 

“Yeah? That’s on my way home,” He grinned. 

“Oh really?” Y/N bit back a laugh, “I thought y’ lived on Newark Street - it said so in Elise’s file.” 

Harry shrugged, “I like to go the long way round.” Y/N didn’t bother pulling him up on the fact that the two streets were on opposite ends of the housing estate. 

“Can I walk y’ home?” He asked, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress. 

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip, “Yeah I’d like that.” 

Harry grinned, “Well alright then.”

They stood up, Y/N keeping his jacket around her shoulders since it was still cold out, “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom,” She motioned towards the community centre. 

“I’ll wait for y’ at the door,” He said, following her as they walked to the community centre side by side. Y/N walked up to the steps and opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still there- that he was real and not just someone she dreamt up.

Harry caught her eye, “M not going anywhere birdy,” he winked, “hurry up so I can walk y’ home and kiss y’ again.” 

Y/N laughed and hurried straight to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the cubicle door behind her and sank down onto the lid of the toilet seat, a wide grin spreading across her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a delighted squeal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the moment she had just shared. 

She pulled out the pocket mirror from her bag and quickly reapplied the lipstick that had been smeared off. She fluffed up her hair with her hands and rubbed her aching cheeks from where had been smiling so much. She stood up and held Harry’s coat in her arms.  As Y/N stepped outside the community centre, she scanned the area in search of Harry, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waiting for her. Her anticipation turned to disappointment when she couldn't spot him anywhere, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. Just as she was about to turn away, a figure caught her eye—a silhouette that had a striking resemblance to Harry—standing in a shadowy corner illuminated by the lights from the community centre.

Heart fluttering with excitement, Y/N smiled and took a step forward, eager to walk home with him. However, her joy quickly turned to dismay when she realised he wasn't alone.

A sudden giggle pierced the air, causing Y/N's heart to sink. Molly's warning appeared typed out in big letters at the forefront of her mind, filling her with regret and dread as she hesitated, frozen in place. With each step she took closer, the scene before her unfolded—it was Nancy, her housemate, clinging to the man she had just kissed.

I imagine George to be Callum Turner and Sonny to be Timothee Chalamet specifically from ms stevens but you can imagine whoever you’d like ! &lt;;33

[digitalsymbiote]

Scars and Memories

CW: Self harm, Scarification

There’s a ritual among certain groups of Mech pilots. Usually ones who are a bit more, esoteric. Pilots who’ve maybe spent too much time in the cockpit, but are too skilled for command to remove them from duty.

It’s a known fact that the more time a pilot spends in the cockpit, the more attached they become to their Mech. Each mech is practically tailor made for its pilot after all, with the hours upon hours of synchronization training that their IMP goes through. Swapping pilots between Mechs is not only unheard of, but almost impossible given how they work.

Pilots that fall into these groups are often so skilled and highly valued, that command assigns a units most skilled mechanics and technicians to their fireteams. This means that nearly every scratch that one of these Mechs receives on a sortie is repaired as quickly as possible, to keep the Mech in top shape for its next deployment.

Initially, the pilots hated this. Pilots have always held onto scars and scratches like badges of honor, marks to prove that they survived a particularly harsh engagement. But the boost to performance and mission success was such that command wouldn’t budge an inch. So the pilots pivoted to a different tactic.

The first time you saw it happen you almost called a paramedic, but then you noticed there was actually one standing by, and no one else in the hangar was paying it any mind.

The returning pilot was kneeling in front of their mech, combat knife dripping blood in their hands, carving the lines of the wounds their mech had taken into their own flesh.

There was a reverence to it. No one impeded on the pilots space, even the paramedic standing by was staying a few paces off. The mechanics were moving slow with the repairs, giving the pilot enough time to memorize the scars on their machine before they were buffed away.

You realized then why so many veteran pilots are covered in brutal and jagged scars, despite the cockpit being the most well protected part of a Mech.

And maybe on your next sortie, you carved a line into your skin where a stray round had nicked your machine.

The metal may heal, but the flesh remembers.

[atom-aviation32]

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[lambcultist]

Can you do something for dbf!ellie? It doesn’t have to be long or anything like maybe headcanons?

mmmm !! dbf is one of my fav tropes and i've just got an absolutely feral idea. and it might end up being long. but, erm, reader whose father is a pilot, and ellie is his co-pilot !! and like sexting her when she's out on trips and stuff... ♡

for now, let me just ramble and jot down my thoughts, this is all very disorganised and abrupt. i'm thinking i'll wanna write something a little longer for this au soon, but i don't have enough time today :(

cw ; dbf!ellie, commercial pilot!ellie, age gap (reader 18-20, ellie in her early-mid 30s), lots of talk about physical markings, sexting, nudes, sneaking around / secret relationship, dom!ellie, sub!reader, edging, ellie taking reader's virginity, size training + use of sex toys. not proofread, no time !! ( mdni, 18+ )

your father has been in the aviation industry for almost thirty years now. he has no plan to retire any time soon and has found his passion flying commercial planes. the last few years he's consistently spoken about how fond he is of his first officer. he will rarely choose not to fly with her by his side. she's as confident, calm, and enthusiastic as any young pilot should be, and mentoring her has been extremely rewarding, so he says.

it was only a matter of time before he chose to introduce her to you and your mother, of course—especially after learning that she was an orphan.

that's how ellie enters your life. she's changed everything. she is the most interesting woman you'd ever meet. the sights she has seen and places she's been make for an easy conversation starter. you can rope your way into hearing her ramble for fifteen minutes about france, just to stare at her lips the whole time and not take anything in. she has experience far beyond what you can comprehend.

it starts with her giving you her number in case you need anything! she's always willing to be of help. your father is all smiles because he's so glad ellie's getting along with his daughter, he just knew you'd be good friends despite the age gap.

when ellie and your father are on a trip, be it a short turnaround trip or a long international trip, she must sit in the cockpit and listen to him talk about you. his sweet daughter. his precious daughter. his kind daughter. his innocent daughter, who has been sending egregiously naughty texts to ellie for weeks now.

she's fairly certain that when they land, she'll turn off airplane mode and receive a few needy texts from you. she'll have to smile and nod, agree here and there about how lovely you are. her personal favourite response, "she's a very good girl."

your interest in ellie seems to grow stronger and stronger. you swoon when she sends kisses before takeoff, and squirm when she lands and asks if you've been a good girl. of course you have.

sometimes, after particularly long flights, she'll touch down in a different country and discover you've sent an audio message of your orgasm, to which she will listen to the moans and whimpers on repeat. and then she'll send one of her own back, just to let you know how much you appreciated it.

her hidden camera roll is full of pictures you've sent. she buys you cute underwear sets to pose in. she buys you new toys to film yourself using. you're her own little film star, and she gets to direct every video.

it's a genuine shock to ellie when you admit you're a virgin. she thinks about slowing things down, she berates herself for not even considering that you are—you're young, and she's had to teach you a lot of things, of course you're a virgin.

but then you confess that you've been training with the dildo she sent you so that you can take whatever she gives you. any pre-existing guilt is now erased, in fact, she's embarrassed at how damp her boxers are.

she's guided you to orgasm plenty of times. text or facetime, doesn't matter. but she knows you love to facetime just because she's often calling you as soon as she gets to the hotel, and she's still in her uniform. ellie isn't stupid, she knows the effect that a good uniform can have on girls like you...

it just makes you smile when she's coaching you through edging yourself with the cute pink vibe she bought you, you're sweaty and crying and look over to your phone to find her fully clothed, sitting on the edge of the bed, and watching you like it's a television show. it's the only thing on earth you think might be hotter than your temperature at that moment.

she finally takes your virginity when your parents are on vacation and they ask her to come hang out with you for the weekend. ellie makes sure the entire time to be aware of how you cope with it, no matter if you're taking her fingers, tongue, or strap, and she does in fact make you take them all.

the best part is getting to cuddle in your bed, then do it all over again the next day.

whenever there's a moment that calls for it, you and ellie get together. then, when she's away for a while, you'll send pictures of the marks she left on your body fading and demand she come back to make more.

also, pilot!ellie is the funniest motherfucker on earth. she's obviously trained to remain calm in any situation in the air, but sometimes there's still times she lands and thinks, what the fuck was that? and if she doesn't laugh, she'll go insane. which is why she'll always tell you about these dumb incidents while laughing, and you'll be sitting there like, what the fuck? "yeah, we had to make an emergency landing because one of the engines fucking failed and there was smoke in the cockpit." "we almost collided with another plane." "your dad yelled at me for landing too rough today." and she tells it like it's a joke, but it actually happened, and she just doesn't care

you know when sometimes you see those videos of aviation incidents but you have no idea what any of it means because of all the aviation radio jargon and whatnot? sometimes, you just send her them, and ask her to explain in simple terms what happened. and she will, but she'll also reassure you why these things are rare so you don't develop a fear of flying. even your father never bothered to explain to you, in depth, why turbulence happens and why it's nothing to be afraid of.

sometimes ellie and your father will let you come along on shorter trips (day trips, usually) and ellie will ask him to let her handle takeoff and landing (she wants to impress you, because yeah, it's very cool) and she'll always remind you beforehand that if there's turbulence, there's nothing to fear. because not only would your father never let anything happen to you, but neither will she! in fact, she tells you to just picture them both in the cockpit chilling because they're so used to it and that it's never fazed them.

when she gets back from a trip, any trip, she'll be so tired and cuddly. she'll help you come up with an elaborate lie to tell your parents so you can sneak out of home and she'll snatch you up, take you back to her place, and cuddle or fuck you until she's feeling better.

so anyway... ૮꒰˶ฅ́˘ฅ̀˶꒱ა  i think i'll write something longer about ellie calling the reader and doing a guided masturbation ♡

🏷️ @abbysdollie @cowgirlvi @valeisaslut @eriiwaii @literallyhousemd @ellieshothousewife @piercedome @therealhexstrap @jinxedbambi @heyimrye @rhian88 @g4ys0n @yoosohh @marvelwomenarehot0

[hardlyinteresting]

On The Beach

Jake Seresin x Reader

 “Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!” Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?”

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, nudity, idiots in love, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please),I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended)

This one-shot will exist in the same universe as other one-shots I have planned. But, they can all be read entirely independently.

Word count: 2K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

July had been unforgiving with heat; sweltering days, broken up by occasional rains that cooled the air but left behind intolerable humidity. August was built up as a promise of relief but instead, she steamrolled the record-setting temperatures of July with her own. 

95°F felt like some kind of cruel trick already, but the air conditioning at The Hard Deck cutting out halfway through a shift was a new kind of torture entirely. 

She’d been quick to help Penny to open up all the doors and windows to all the mild relief of the ocean breeze blowing through, bringing in a flood of daylight so uncommonly seen inside the cozy bar. 

The ice machine set to work overtime, fresh kegs of beer ready to pour by the time the usual crowd of regulars began to pile in. Stripped down to a tank top and shorts she ties her hair up to keep it off the back of her neck, desperate to get through this shift in one piece. With just the two of them behind the bar, she does her best to keep up with the seemingly endless pile of orders, reminding the pilots and veterans to take a glass of ice water as well. 

“Hey Sugar,” Hangman flirts leaning against the counter. It’s not fair that he looks so cool and collected, his khaki uniform still perfectly pressed, his hair neatly styled while she thinks she might be melting with the feeling of sweat on her back. She’s sure she looks a mess, but Hangman doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he waits for her to take his order. 

Jake is certain that despite the shower he took on base, he still smells like jet fuel. The hottest day of the year might not have been so bad under the shade of a big tree back home, a soft breeeze blowing through the branches of sweet-olive trees. He'd spent enough summers in Texas to know how to muck through the dog days. But on base, the heat radiates up from the black top tarmac, threatening to melt the soles of their issued boots. Up in the air, the glass canopy of the cockpit feels like a magnifying glass; doubling both the discomfort of intense flight training, and the intensity of the sun's contributions to the torrid day. 

Stripping off his flight suit and stepping into a cold shower had been a relief, matched only by the promise of a beer at The Hard Deck to end the week. 

The doors and windows were open when he arrived, a wall of humid and stagnant heat rolling from inside the establishment nearly had him turning around to head home before he spotted her. Sugar, with her hair pulled back, sweat gathering across her collarbone and chest, white tank top clinging to her in ways he previously could only imagine. She's a sight for sore eyes, and now leaning against the bar he has no intention of going anywhere else tonight. 

“Beer?” she asks him. 

He nods his confirmation, “bottle please,” he adds. “It’s hot in here today”. 

“AC broke,” she sighs, “Mav is up on the roof trying to fix it now”. 

“I’m not sure there’s much he can’t do,” he shrugs, “Drink some water. I can’t have you passing out, Sugar”. 

She does her best to ignore the flirtatious wink he throws her way. She knows he's a relentless philanderer, she's seen how quickly he can manage to find a date for the night. He's handsome beyond a doubt, and by far one of the kindest patrons she has, but she's not looking to be heartbroken. And friendship has suited the two of them just fine for the last few months, no reason to mess with a good thing. 

After two weeks of working at The Hard Deck, she'd finally given in to The Dagger Squad’s insistence that she join them at the pool table after her shift. Hangman had been a surprisingly gracious loser when she ran him out of 50 bucks. A few weeks later Jake and Bradley had thrown a drunk guy out of the bar when he'd given her a hard time and refused to pay his own tab let alone the rounds ordered at the sound of the bell. 

She had tried to thank him but he'd only given her a curt nod, “Nothing to thank me for, Sugar”. 

So she smiles back at his teasing grins, laughs at his jokes, and blows kisses and he playfully pretends they knock him over. It’s easy, it’s fun. “I know you’re just trying to keep your heart in one piece,” Penny tells her, “but don’t break his either”. 

No one sticks around too long, too tired, and far too warm to take up their usual challenges at the pool table. The sun has gone down by the time Mav comes in to let Penny know he had no luck fixing the AC unit before stopping by the table Bob, Coyote, and Hangman have settled at. Hangman has stripped down to his white undershirt, the T-shirt clinging to his chest and back, the sleeves drawing her attention to his arms that she's caught herself staring at too often to count. 

“Heading out?” She asks when Hangman comes up to the bar, getting ready to close out his tab, “You only had one beer tonight”. 

He nods, “Well, it'd be irresponsible for me to have more. I'm giving you a drive home”. 

She grins, slipping the bill across the counter, “I don't remember you asking me”. 

“Mav’s orders,” he answers easily, with a seriousness that makes her think he really isn't just joking with her. 

“Penny's actually, I was just the messenger,” Maverick holds up his hands in innocence. 

Penny calls last call early, before dismissing her for the night, “cool off. Go home,” she instructs leaving no room for argument. 

The night air feels lighter, though not as refreshing as expected, the breeze cooling the tack of sweat against her balmy skin. The sound of the ocean meeting the beachside echoes in the uncharacteristic quiet. She breathes out a sigh her head tilted back and arms out trying to make the best of the gust of wind blowing by. 

“C’mon,” Jake laughs, “I'll crank the AC for you”. 

She pouts a little in return. The glow from the fluorescent light inside the bar floods out across the deck patio, casting shadows out in front of them. He’s standing a good five feet behind her, but his bedimmed counterpart stretches out next to her own, overlapping as he steps closer. The moonlight shines brightly over the white sand below and it strikes her that despite working beachside all summer, she’s yet to step foot on the beach. Jake smirks, his head tilted towards the beach that's captured her attention. “Let’s go cool off,” his words a playful mimicry of Penny’s instructions.

Without protest, she follows him. His grin grows impossibly bigger, clearly pleased with himself as he watches her shuffle out of her socks and shoes, her footsteps so much smaller than his own, she struggles to keep up, but he never lets her fall too far behind. He moves quickly in the dark, the sand still warm underfoot. Nearing the water's edge he slows his pace. She’s gorgeous in the moonlight. She’s always pretty. His usual coquetry shrinks on the tip of his tongue; lost to thoughts and curiosities about her favourite bands, and what might make her laugh. He’s found himself growing somewhat softer as he thinks back to the night he met her, watching her glide through the room oblivious to the attention she’d managed to capture. Her smile lit up the room as she danced with her friends. Her laughter was loud and uproarious, very near infectious. 

His white shirt hits the sand in an unceremonious pile by her feet. 

“Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!”

Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?” “I think you're trying to get me to go skinny dipping with you!” He laughs, “I ain't trying. I'm succeeding”. 

There's not an ounce of shame, nor an ounce of clothing on him as he wades into the water, not turning around to look at her again until his in up past his waist. “C’mon,” he calls to her, “the waters lovely!” 

She's always considered herself to be pretty easy going. But the idea of stripping naked to join Hangman on this oceanic side quest leaves her stomach tied in knots. She's seen enough of him playing football with the squad that she's not shocked by his broad shoulders, nor the expanse of his chest. She knows that standing on the beach, in a tank top a shorts that cling to her the way they do, she has little to hide her own form. But joining Jake in the water will surely only add to the tension they've allowed to build between them. How different is the ocean from an expanse of bedsheets when you're standing naked with Jake Seresin? 

“You have to promise you won't look!” She calls to him, pulling her top up over her head. 

“I promise,” he says, “scouts honour !” 

“Boy scouts? I'm sure you sold a lot of cookies with all that charm of yours”.

She shimmies out of her shorts, hesitating in her bra and underwear. Jake stands with his back to her holding up his end of the deal. 

“Cookies are the Girl Scouts, Sugar,” he corrects, but she can practically hear him grinning, “but I did earn my fundraising activity badge selling tins of popcorn”. 

Bare, she makes a mad dash into the water, splashing as she works to cover as much of herself as possible. 

“So,” she smiles, “you come here often?”

Her voice is quiet as she hopes that the joke lands, her knees bent to keep her top half under the cover of the unlit water. She tries to play cool. Jake, to his credit, plays along without missing a beat. “I can't say I do, Sugar. The dress code is too loose for my taste”.

“Ah, yes, of course. I forgot you're known for being a prude, Hangman”.

A gentle, yet unexpected wave pushes into the shoreline, knocking her sideways. Jake is quick to wrap his hand around her upper arm, not letting her get too far. This close, it’s impossible to hide from the gaze of his warm green eyes. He smells like cedar and amber. Warm and clean. Beneath it, the smell of jet fuel lingers. She knows how hard he must try to scrub it from himself at the end of each day, and she wonders if it might just be in his blood at this point. Another wave pushes them closer together once more. 

He clears his throat, trying hard not to think about how close circumstance has brought them; he weighs the validity of fate but pushes it down deep inside certain that one day these unlabelled feelings might just explode in his chest. For now, he startles when a sudden splash of water is directed towards his face. Sugar feigns innocence, but starts to paddle away from him as he blinks away the water from his eyes. 

“Sugar,” he warns, “don’t start something you don’t want to finish”. His own hands, larger than hers cup more of the ocean's surface propelling it in her direction with a great slosh, the sound echoing on the empty beach.

Up on the deck, Penny and Maverick watch the two distant figures throwing water, their laughter audible even when their words aren’t.

“Do you think they know there are sharks in that water?” 

Penny shrugs, “Do you think they know they’re half in love with each other yet?”

[callsign-mayhem]

take my breath away (b.b)

Part two of the sequel series for Heartbreak Feels So Good!

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 1.7k CW: Heavy makeout sesh, use of Y/N

FIND THE ORIGINAL SERIES HERE!

Bradley struggles to keep his feelings in check during a morning training session. A stolen moment in the hangar leads to an intense confession—and an unexpected interruption from another member of The Dagger Squad.

The early morning light cut through the hangar, an energetic hum building as the base slowly came to life. The air was warm, and the scent of metal, jet fuel, and saltwater hung in the breeze. Pilots chattered animatedly while their jets were prepped and fuelled for the new training course being undertaken that day.

Bradley stood by his jet—his pride and joy—watching you move across the tarmac, adjusting your helmet with sharp focus. Of course, you were suited up in your flight gear, looking every bit the professional.

A force to be reckoned with. 

You could’ve been wearing a bin bag and he’d have found it endearing, but this was his favourite look on you. It was hard not to stare, but he caught himself before anyone noticed—your relationship still wasn’t out to the rest of The Dagger Squad. 

You moved almost effortlessly—graceful but with an edge that demanded attention. 

Bradley wasn’t sure why it was hitting him harder this morning, but seeing you there—standing tall, the sun catching the contours of your face through the visor of your helmet—he realised just how hard he’d fallen for you. It wasn’t just your skill in the cockpit or the way you carried yourself. It was more than that. It was how you made it seem as if nothing could shake you, even though he knew it was sometimes an act. 

What with your traumatic breakup and newfound love with Bradley, you’d been doing so well lately. He’d been patient, expecting things to be complicated. While there’d been a few bumps—as every new relationship had—it had been much smoother than he’d expected. Loving you was easy, and being loved by you was even easier. It was like standing in the sun and feeling the warmth from every angle. Your adoration made Bradley feel like he could take on the world. 

Hondo appeared before him, his usual lazy grin on his face.

‘Earth to Rooster.’ He teased. ‘You good, man?’ 

Bradley smiled easily. Since the Uranium mission, he’d gotten very close with Hondo. 

‘I’m good. Who’s flying first?’

In response, Hondo moved to the side so Bradley could see you climbing into the cockpit of your jet. 

God, that flight suit.

The world around you became a blur as the jet roared to life. Bradley swallowed hard, trying to focus on his own pre-flight checks which were happening around him. Of course, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you fly, but today something was different. The admiration he had for you was more prominent than before. So much so it hurt his chest. 

You were incredible, gorgeous, and talented, and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

And the suit. Well, it clung to you in all the right places.

Your jet roared to life, engines screaming. It was almost too much. Even as the training began, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He was in the air not long after you. The flight was intense—tight manoeuvres, precision testing, pushing the boundaries—another day at the office. But all through it, Bradley couldn’t help but steal glances at your aircraft. He was entranced by the sound of your voice over the comms. You were a natural, graceful and fierce all at once, and it made something inside of him tighten. 

Once the training session eventually wrapped up, the jets landed in quick succession. Engines winded down, and Bradley took a moment to breathe, watching as you climbed out of your plane. It was hot as Hades, and he was severely dehydrated. As he climbed out of his own cockpit, he thought about taking himself off to get a drink, but then you met his eyes amidst the small crowd, and everything seemed to slow down. 

Bradley didn’t wait for the crowd to clear. He moved fast, cutting across the runway and heading straight for you. His heart pounded in his chest as he approached you like it was the first time he’d ever been this close. Before he could even process his actions, he had a hand on your arm, gently pulling you towards one of the empty hangars, away from prying eyes. 

‘Y/N.’ He breathed, voice low but full of urgency. ‘I need to talk to you.’

You blinked up at him, caught off guard but not unwilling. There was something between the two of you waiting to be broken open. 

Bradley stepped into the shadows of the hangar, and you followed. 

The only thing he could focus on was closing the distance.

Bradley didn’t give you much chance to speak before pulling you towards him, his lips crashing onto yours. This kiss was sudden, fiery, a release of everything he’d been holding back. It was messy and urgent at first, but it deepened as he held you tighter. Gently, he threaded one hand through your hair while the other rested on your back, pulling you into him.

For a moment, you were both lost in its intensity. Bradley’s thoughts were a swirling blur, centring on how much he wanted you, how much he could feel this thing building between you two, and how good it felt to act on it now that Elijah was gone. 

He pulled away just enough for the two of you to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was rough as he struggled to say the words: ‘You’re incredible, Y/N. Do you know that?’

You smiled. ‘I think I do now.’ You breathed, voice soft but full of warmth.

Bradley’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, and then, with a little smirk, he kissed you again—slower this time, more controlled. Although it still carried that same intensity. His hand came to rest on your hip, pulling you close enough that the space between you no longer existed.

Nothing existed outside of this moment. 

The sounds of your heartbeats and the urgent kissing were drowned out by the hum of engines on the runway. That sound, this place, and you. It was an equation that could only equal home to Bradley. 

When you eventually pulled away again, Bradley’s swollen lips curved into a smile. ‘You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.’

You looked up at him. ‘Me too.’

‘I don’t wanna go back out there.’ He admitted.

You giggled almost deliriously and jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You’d never gone this far before. Bradley couldn’t believe how great it felt to have you in his arms, legs tightening around him. He wanted to feel you tightening around him in other ways, but this wasn’t the time or place. 

You kissed him again, tongue dipping into his mouth. He wanted to taste you everywhere. The thought of it alone had him groaning into your mouth. 

He was so wrapped up in you that when you suddenly jumped down and stepped away from him, his eyes remained closed for a beat or two. It happened so fast.

When he did open his eyes, he wished he hadn’t.

‘Well, well, well.’ Fanboy smirked. ‘What do we have here?’ 

You and Bradley immediately stiffened. The playing teasing in his voice was unmistakable, but so was the surprise. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting this. 

‘Didn’t think anyone would catch you two in the act, huh?’ He laughed, brow raised.

Bradley rubbed the back of his neck, face flushing. ‘Fanboy,’ he croaked, voice still hoarse from the burning intensity of that makeout session. ‘We don’t want this getting out yet.’

Bradley shot you a look to make sure you were okay. He was shocked to see an amused grin on your pretty face. 

Fanboy couldn’t help himself. His grin widened as he took a step back. ‘I knew there was something between you two,’ he said dramatically. ‘The way you look at each other—it’s like a romance movie, but it sucks ‘cause I never get any popcorn.’ 

You laughed, the sound echoing through the hangar and Bradley’s whole body. He wanted to kiss you again. He wanted to do a lot more than kiss you. 

‘You’re not gonna say anything, are you?’ You asked.

Fanboy placed his hand over his heart. ‘Say anything? How could I not? This is big news!’ He teased, voice rising an octave or two in excitement. ‘You two are so cute together. Y/N, I was waiting for you to figure out that Rooster has been head over heels in love with you for months.’ 

Bradley shot Fanboy a warning look. ‘Mickey.’

Fanboy held his hands up. ‘I’m just kidding. But not really.’ You raised a brow, and Fanboy started back peddling. ‘Kidding about telling everyone. Not about the other thing.’

He winked, and Bradley didn’t have the heart to be upset with him when you laughed again. Fanboy tilted his head, studying the two of you as if trying to gauge the seriousness of the relationship. 

‘You two are good for each other,’ he said, his tone softer now but still teasing. ‘You know that, right? Like, I was waiting for the ‘big confession’ or whatever, but honestly? This whole vibe? It’s perfect. I just wanna see you two kiss again.’

Bradley snorted with laughter, quickly trying to cover it up with a cough. You bit your lip to hold back a laugh as well, but it was impossible. 

‘Alright, you’ve had your fun.’ Bradley said, shaking his head with a grin. ‘But if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I swear—’

‘I won’t, I promise. I’m not that cruel.’ Fanboy was holding his hands up in mock surrender. ‘But seriously, if you guys need help making this official, I have the perfect playlist…’ 

You and Bradley shared a quick, amused glance, and the world felt lighter for a moment. This was how it was going to be. 

‘Thanks, Fanboy,’ you said. ‘But I think we’ve got it covered.’ 

‘One more thing.’ He grinned. ‘Next time you’re gonna make out, put a tie on the door or something.’

And with that, he winked at you, heading back onto the runway. You took a deep breath, glancing at Bradley, who was trying to suppress a smile. ‘Well,’ you said, leaning closer to him. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

Bradley shrugged with a grin, his eyes sparkling. ‘Maybe we should keep the making out to a minimum at work? Or at least find a more private place?’

‘I think you're probably right. How does my place, after work sound?'

Thanks for reading the next part of the sequel series for heartbreak feels so good! It was just something small to start the year off, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

Taglist:

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[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Forty Two - Soldier Executioner

Part Forty One

———

Flight simulation was initially used in Europe, though not as it is today, during the years before and leading up to the First World War the precursors to flight simulation were coming about. With ground training for air assaults and sky shooting taking place. 

The first proper flight simulator was used in Binghamton, New York starting in 1927. Creating an airplane-like shell that sat atop a device that would offer some similar cues to actual air flight. Becoming known as the Link Trainer. 

Starting in World War Two, over five hundred thousand new pilots from the allied nations were trained using the Link Trainer, for both major fronts. 

In 1954, United Airlines purchased four flight simulators to start the modern era of simulations. Everything from airplanes, to helicopters, race cars and now mech suits. 

Generally, simulators are used as a training tool to familiarize the user with the cockpit they will be attending, the procedures they will be following and emergency situational response.

Like flight simulators, mech suit simulators are not much different. A connecting point between the experienced pilots and the rookies, the recently compatible, the constant need to learn and adapt to the new scenarios they would be facing. 

Unlike flight simulators, the only way to use a simulator effectively is once the connection system, known as the implants, has been placed within the pilot. A proper connection is necessary for a comprehensive understanding of the system, emergency codes, and errors that every pilot will face in the field.

Not that they might face, but that they will face. 

Simulators are key to all pilots' experiences, whether in flight or the fight. 

It just so happens that learning to fly a plane is only slightly different from learning to operate a mech unit. All stepping from the same idea of teaching soldiers how to kill moving targets. 

—

The further in he got, the worse he felt, this horrible feeling of homesickness which he’d been able to kick pretty early on was hitting him like a truck now. Deep in the depths of the enemy spaceship reminded him of the pilot simulators back home, being strapped in and having everything thrown at you. 

Down to one arm and a prayer, Hound kept moving slowly, gun raised and ready. Finger never leaving the trigger. 

All the walls were oozing and suddenly he was grateful to be breathing from oxygen tanks rather than the air around him. Who knew what sort of undiscovered toxins were aboard.

Slowly turning down a different path, his gun comes up and fires upon a Quintesson. The thing shrieks more out of rage than pain which was never a good sign, “Come on then!” Running forward, Hound slams into the enemy face first. Lodging his gun up close, he fires point blank into the alien.

His visor tunneled and swearing, he fired quickly, slamming his empty shoulder into the side of the thing as pain shot through his implants.

The voices in his ears weren’t real, at least not in the context that he was currently hearing them but they were louder than the current noise around him. Even the roar of the Quintesson. 

“God damnit Hound, your scores just aren’t good enough!” Kup’s voice was always painfully loud and demanding, he was a great commander but it sucked when you were the one being yelled at, “I know that! I know,” He sighed shakily, staying in the sim, kicking the Quintesson on its beak.

In the rig, he was thankful Kup couldn’t rest a hand on his shoulder, eyes flicking around urgently. Even just starting out, being a hunter took a lot more focus than being a striker did. They could stumble around blindly in the dark without reprimand, the hunter class had to be precise and know their next move before it was possible to.

Even at this point, Kup had been an old school pilot, multi-class before that had been thought possible, the man was ancient in Hound’s eyes. It was late 2002, if he could recall it right, he’d been twenty then and Kup had felt older than dirt. 

The banging on the sim door did not help as he tore open a Quintesson, data running through the corner of his vision at the sim picked up data, “You need to focus on the fight! Not the simulation, you need to trick your mind into thinking you’re actually out on that field!” Growling, Hound’s gun fired into the carcass on the floor of the ship before running forward.

His mentor saw more potential in him than he even saw in himself, one of his many mentors, just another ex-military pilot that tried pulling at his heart strings. Hound’s focus was deadlier than any other standing hunter class, the most kills within the same amount of time and holding the record for the moment.

Simulation hours were near triple of the next closest pilot, he stunk of desperation. This was beyond a calling, this was his life.

Swearing, Hound shoots as another Quintesson appears from around the corner, the ship is a maze. He wasn’t sure if that was the reality or the simulation of it all, “Focus Hound! You can’t let another pilot die under your watch, striker or not!” His gun attached itself to his wrist, just as his fist collided with the Quintesson, bare foot slamming down on a pair of tentacles. 

“Shut up!” His gun slid back into place and he fired until the barrel was red hot. Splattered with green, he was heaving for breath, “That’s better Hound, much better.” Kup’s voice seemed to wander away, fading as his vision became clear again. No longer the artificial view from the simulator. 

No, he was just standing in a hall on the Quintesson ship, alone except for the corpses he was leaving in his wake. 

Trying to shake off the feeling of the hallucination, he took slow and deep breaths. Unstrapping his mask while closing his eyes, grabbing up his water, his gun sliding back to his wrist. His other arm effectively dead to the world and to his current use, it was numb too. 

He drank deeply, eyes closed and trying to breath, his skin crawled. He hadn’t thought of the old man in ages, he’d love to be on an alien planet fighting Quintessons. More than anything. Smiling a bit, Hound opens his eyes and swears as a Quintesson helps him to the floor.

Help he did not want.

Digging his fingers into the tentacles trying to wrap themselves around him, Hound grit his teeth, “You know, I am sick and tired of you.” And he pulled the tentacles free from the alien’s body, quickly whipping them back at it. It shrieked from pain and Hound grinned wolfishly. 

—

His back hit the ship hard, as his leg caught one of the tentacles whipping around towards him and Jazz, “Fuck you!” Pulling his leg down and twisting it, he pulls the tentacles trying to pin him to the ship free.

The Quintesson shrieks never got any less painful on the ears, even Jazz’s slightly manic laughter was easier on the ears. Talk about a pilot who lived and breathed for this stuff, even without bracers or a gun, he was a natural at taking these things apart. Piece by piece if he had to. 

Bringing his arms up, the next hit split open the attacking Quintesson, splattering him green, “We have a real shitty job, you know that?” He glances over his shoulder, able to lumber up while wailing on the Quintesson, “You either love it or hate it, live or die, it’s still your choice Sides.” Jazz’s response was cool, followed by another wicked laugh.

He had a hard time plating the feet of his suit, the ship a weird mix of metal and flesh, something that made his skin crawl. Getting upright with a yell, he throws himself at another Quintesson. Bracers coming down hard against its shell-like exterior.

It cracked open with his hit, splatting more of his suit in green and he couldn’t help but grin. Maybe this isn’t the career he would have chosen for himself, but he was thrilled to be here.

After a moment, his comm began to ping again, answering, he grunts and swings around, “Yell-o.” He was breathing heavily, “Is there any update?” His heart almost stopped, swinging around, he gasped. The panic tried to grab at his throat again, “Elita, uh, no.” Turning back he yells and collides with the next Quintesson, shoving it hard as Jazz jumps over head, grappling one above him.

“I can’t get through to Optimus or anyone right now, other than you. So what’s going on?” He swings back out and nearly falls, shaking again, staring at the comm-line for a moment before disconnecting it, “I can’t focus on you right now, I’m sorry.” The weakness in his voice almost shattered him.

Tearing at his heart strings, he kept going, tearing apart the Quintessons he could get his hands on. Pushing down the panic and fear and sadness as much as he possibly could. It was right there, bubbling under the surface, collapsed buildings and calm voices trying to reassure him as if he were the one who needed it.

No, not again, he wouldn’t fail like that again.

Yelling, he grabs two Quints by their tentacles and starts to whip them around, “This planet is under our protection!” He slams them into the side of the ship as Jazz falls back into his back, holding off another Quint, he glanced over, “And we’re not going down without a fight, right Sides?” Nodding, he yelled again as he ripped the limbs from them.

With a kick, they flew right into Breakdown’s booming blasts.

”This is for our bar, damn you!” Him and Jazz moved in near sync, turning together and striking the approaching enemy.

They were everywhere. They were surrounded.

On the highest point in the area, the one place they shouldn’t be.

Why was that so familiar?

His bracers were normally blue and nearly glowing, a special alloy from home made of iron and the metal off of Quintesson ships. His plating was normally red, like the car his father had driven around for the better part of their childhoods. Both were covered in green gore, blocking out the familiar and comforting colors.

Jazz was in no better state, the white and blue were also soaked green but the tint to his visor, that paired with the laughter, this was serious. More than he had thought originally.

Fuck.

—

Even from a distance, he could tell things weren’t going well. Holy shit, things were honestly going very badly. The longer Jazz and Sideswipe were on the ship, the more Quintessons seemed to pull themselves from the wreckage. 

Strapping his oxygen mask back on, Sunny tried his hardest not to gag again or worse, he’d have to deep-clean his suit when all of this was said and done. They were terrible about holding onto stains and things. He could remember having to learn how to clean a cockpit on one coated in blood.

It was how he learned he was squeamish. 

With slow and deep breaths, he brings his helmet's additional hud display up, bringing focus back to the outside and not the inside. Iacon came back into clear view and it still looked horrible. 

Keeping his back to Breakdown’s, he couldn’t help looking back over his shoulder, wincing when the cannon got too loud, “BD, is there any sign of Hound yet?” He was still somewhere inside the ship, “No, nothing but static still.” Sighing, Sunstreaker looks around, “Still no sign of our backup either.” His hands were still shaking.

Honestly, his whole suit was still shaking, the panic was sitting below the surface and bursting out every few seconds. He wasn’t very useful at the moment, god, he felt pathetic. Without Blue at his own back he was panicking like a rookie, glancing back towards the ship he could see the shake in Sideswipe’s suit too.

They were all panicking.

That was so much worse. 

Swearing quietly, he took slow breaths again, “God damnit.” Shaking his head a bit, he looks back at Breakdown. 

Breakdown’s stance was steady, feet planted and cannon booming every few seconds, the barrel was starting to glow red which means he’d have to fall back soon. They’d have to fall back soon, which would either mean they’d be leaving Jazz and Sideswipe alone or they’d all leave Hound alone if backup didn’t show up.

Bad news, very bad news.

“Sunstreaker, we need to fall back.” Breakdown’s voice was heavy with grief, shifting his stance slightly, “As soon as my cannon overheats, we’ll be overrun and no help to Jazz and Sideswipe. Do you think they would fall back?” Taking a breath, he shakes his head, “No, they’ll want to wait for Hound, won’t they?” 

He turns and his eyes widen, grabbing Breakdown around the middle and pulling him back as Seeker fire sprays across the ground between them and the fallen ship, “Fuck!” They both stumble and fall with a loud crash.

Breakdown’s suit was so much heavier than his, the crush alerts popping back up for the second time that day. His head slammed into the side of his piloting chair, knocking around in the helmet. Now he really wasn’t going to be able to fight, his vision swimming again.

Groaning painfully, he tries to get his weight back under him, “Breakdown, you’re crushing me.” Their suits groaned and scraped. Metal screeching loudly against their ears as they tried to get up.

More blaster fire rained down on the ship and they scrambled for the alleyway, his back hit the wall while trying to refocus his cameras back towards the ship. Jazz and Sideswipe were still fighting, shouting at each other and likely on comms with the seekers above. 

A hand came down on his shoulder, “We need to fall back, try to get a different vantage point.” Nodding a bit, he pings Sideswipe, it pings three times before his voice comes through, “I’m a bit busy to talk Sonny!” Sighing a bit, Sunny stared towards his brother, “Breakdown and I are having to fall back, his cannon is overheated.” 

“Jazz and I aren’t going to leave Hound behind, you two need to get clear. There’s so many of them around for you both to be unarmed.” His mouth was dry, but he nodded, “We’re going to intercept the backup and get them here, just, hold them off.” Sideswipe looked towards him, saluting lightly. 

Sighing, Sunny looked to Breakdown, “Come on, we’ve gotta hurry.” Helping the bigger mech back up, they started down the alley at as close to a run as a tanker could go.

His gut twisted again painfully, this day was getting worse the longer it dragged on, and they were losing light. 

Seekers screamed overhead while they rushed between buildings.

—

There was something deeply morbid about this but what else was he supposed to do, leave it behind? Sunny couldn’t exactly fight Quintessons while carrying around his arm and Knockout would kill him if it got any further damage. It was bad enough he was the one carrying it.

No, now he was holding the arm of Sunstreaker’s suit, yellow paint scraped off, and dripping what he thought was oil. His digits were brushing over the back of the severed servo, lost in thought.

It was beyond morbid, the only amount of peace that he had with it was the fact that he knew Sunny wore the suit for these moments, to not blow off his own little limbs. His tanks rolled unpleasantly, continuing to brush his digits over the servo with his optics watering. 

This was the first time in ages, since the last war he was pretty sure, that he recognized the stench of fear. It hit him like a metal beam falling on his head, which had happened more than he’d like to admit with the day he was having, but it had been almost a thousand stellar cycles since he smelt this. This was Iacon under attack and they were hiding under the ground.

It was horrible. 

Humans were bags of organic squish and yet they were the ones up on the surface, fighting their shared enemy like it was no big deal. As if a building hadn’t fallen on their heads and they just got back up to fight again while the rest of them came to cover their wounds. 

The arm continued to drip oil onto the unfinished floor.

Hanging his helm and venting slowly, he tried to stop the rapid spinning of his spark, the roiling of his tanks, the anxiety was going to dismantle him. 

Prowl’s voice was the only thing keeping him calm, low and nearly unregistered in his audials, optics flickering as he was running the number along with the logistics. Their backup should be arriving soon, but there were delays. There were always delays in Iacon now.

“Prowl, is there an update?” His voice was quiet, not wanting to disturb the others. Whether Mirage who looked like he was dealing with some processor damage, or Optimus who was holding lightly to Megatron’s unconscious helm, or Knockout who was still working on the Lord Protector. 

He vented slowly and shook his helm, and Blue clutched tighter at the servo, “No, Soundwave is having an issue getting nearby commands in place. Same with Blaster. There are a few other scouting ships on planet.” Nodding slowly, Bluestreak looks up at the ceiling above them.

Every few seconds they could hear the distant booms of Breakdown’s cannon.

It was so familiar to them now, quartex or two of battle together had put that back into his processor. 

Venting, he offlines his optics for a long time, just clutching Sunstreaker’s servos, those servos and Prowl’s voice were grounding to him.

When the booming stopped, it was hard to register but his optics shot immediately to the ceiling, “Something is wrong.” His voice was quiet and Prowl nodded slowly, “Breakdown and Sunstreaker are falling back according to the Seekers, Jazz and Sideswipe are fighting on top of the crash, Hound is not visible on the battlefield.” They briefly shared a look.

That was not good, Hound would do anything for his crew and had done so in the past, the fact he was missing from the field either meant he was down or he was doing something incredibly stupid.

”Scrap.”

—

He felt like hell but was still grinning, nearly evilly. The silence was a lot and it was tearing at his mind, but he kept moving, gun back up and scanning for the enemy.

The disconnect from the outside was bad, he had no idea what was going on outside, but he kept coming across patrols in the halls and handled them with the practiced ease of a tenured pilot. One on an alien planet, but still.

Turning down yet another hallway, Hound takes a breath, two Quints at the end of the hall and what appeared to be a door. First one he’d see in the whole ship, he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing but for the moment they didn’t see him.

Every instinct he’d gotten from being in the military said to shoot them as much and often as he could, being a striker class said the same, but neither were as strong as his old unlocked coding. It was showing him each subtle movement he could make to get closer before attacking and his gun slid back to place against his arm. 

Drawing the barrel of his gun from his leg, he shifts the grip and starts stalking down the hall, moving far too quietly for a suit as big as his. It wasn’t until he was about half way down did they notice him, snapping the barrel to the other side of his wrist, his gun came back forward and he fired four shots, two into each Quintesson in rapid succession. 

The reverberation was killer even in his suit but it didn’t matter, what did was the lack of green splatter. In all the months he’d been using this gun, it had never not pierced the skin of a Quintesson. Now was not the moment to dwell on that though, rushing forward, his gun pressed to the beak of one and fired as many times as he could pull the trigger while kicking the other across its face.

It was the second that snagged his leg while the first shirked from the burns and gun fire, only oozing the familiar green gore. Sliding the gun back to his magnets, he digs into the hole he’d created and pulls hard.

With a Quintesson shrieking in his ear, he lets go and grabs up the one holding his leg, pulling it towards him with a shout of his own, hurling it into the wall. Turning back to the one who was now bleeding again, he adjusts his stance, “I don’t have all day, we do this now or never.” With a shriek it lunged for him.

His fist connected with its eye first, which honestly made his skin crawl. It was one of the few places pilots had the hardest time with, the typical gore they could handle but this was always a last resort. 

Fluorescent gore splattered out, across his plating and the walls as Hound grabbed the edge of the now bare eye socket before bringing his foot up to cave in the rest of its face. It takes three more firm kicks than it typically did to do so, Hound grunting with the effort.

”What the hell are you things?” The first one crumbled to the floor and he spun back around to the second, now being the one slammed into the wall instead of the Quintesson. It shrieked painfully loudly, especially when he stopped on one of it’s tentacles, throwing his empty shoulder into its face. 

They were denser than the typical Quintesson, heavier, as Hound throws the weight of his suit into it and nearly falls on his face. 

Swearing, he draws his gun and fires up under its jaw, “Damnit, you're strong. Megatron would have loved to kill you.” He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, he sure as hell didn’t want to be fighting these things on his own. Green splattered over his arm which he lodged the gun further up the hole he was making.

It was a rather disgusting job they had. 

Only when his gunfire was going straight through did he stop and pull back, panting from the effort. The fight had started only a meter or two from the doors, they were almost back where he started when he’d turned down the hall.

”What the hell.” This was turning bad news to worse, starting back down the hall as a few pieces of plating fell away from his leg, pausing, he bent to pick them back up. Holding them, he goes to the doors and smiles a bit, knocking, “Knock knock, anyone home?” Chucking a bit, he deactivates the door lock with a switch kick to the panel.

The main cabin was small, very small compared to everything else he had been through. Monitors all around showed the area around the ship and a few views of Iacon from above. He stopped to stare for a while, and worse turned into doomsday.

There was a Quintesson in there, of course, which he quickled used the dislodged leg plating in his lands to cut the tentacles, flying towards him, off. Running forward, pushing his suit hard, his gun slides back into place and he fires. Splattering the console green.

Taking slow and deep breaths, Hound heaves, bending and pressing his hands to his knees, “Oh god.” He breathes slowly, pushing himself back upright and going to the console. Trying to wipe off the gore from the dead alien, he had no idea what to do except pull the main disk and shoot the console.

It was a better solution than nothing. 

After a minute, he finds the main part of the console and dislodges it. His comms screamed back to laugh and he yelled, “Ow! Fuck,” turning it down, he presses his hand to the side of his head even as voices crackle back to life, “Hound! Are you in the control room?” Sideswipe’s voice was painful after the silence.

Rubbing his helmet, he swore again, “Yes, I am, has backup showed up yet?” Dragging the console piece away, he pulls free some wires and the closest thing that would resemble a computer.

”No, not yet, we’re still fighting out here and they just keep coming out.” Sighing, Hound shook his head and looked to the monitors again which were filled with static, “Wonderful.” Opening his cockpit, he sets the hard drive inside carefully, followed by the pieces of his leg plating that would fit. 

He got slammed back into the console as the cockpit closed, turning, he kicked out against whatever was attacking him.

It didn’t look like any type of Quintesson he’d ever seen, then again, they didn’t typically carry weapons or stand on two feet, “Fuck.” And it grinned.

———

A/N

Oh my god, this chapter took me a week to write. My life has been nuts and this took so long.

(It honestly probably took the normal time, but I never had a spare minute this week)

So. I’ll explain some of what’s going on in my life, then what happens with Hound in this chapter. :)

Last Thursday/Friday, I found out I got into my local Law School, so I am finally on the path to becoming a lawyer. Saturday, I went to see Thunderbolts* which has been eating my brain ever since and I have had to fight tooth and nail to not write Marvel fanfic. Sunday, was not a great day I had to deal with a bunch of paperwork stuff. Monday, my sister was home all day so I was spending most of the day with her. Tuesday, had to catch up on what I hadn’t done around the house on Monday. Wednesday, just didn’t write and was in a funk. Yesterday, I had a job interview and my sister was home again. Then today I finished the chapter.

So… yeah.

Now, Hound and the pilots have spent their careers fighting Quintesson Scouts. The big flying light weight aliens who survey. They are fighting a mix of Scouts and Soldier's in this moment, like the ones Hound fought outside the command room. And the last one is an executioner, who they have never seen before. So next chapter might be a bit of fun.

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And once again thank you to @Keferon for this amazing AU