Dogfight
Fighter Pilot!Cassian x Reader
Summary: Anon Request: Lowkey, I think that Modern Cassian would be a fighter pilot.
I.E. A rewrite of a Top Gun scene but with Cassian as the pilot. 🤷🏼♀️
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1,193
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The sky is an ethereal thing, vast and wide, hues of all colors brushing the heavens in luxurious strokes. Cassian always loved it, sleeping out under the stars as many nights as he was allowed, finding shapes in the billowing clouds and connecting stars into forms, learning stories to go with them.
He always knew he’d find himself up here one day, a pilot after years of training, best in class.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, steering the jet away from the fighter on their tail. The plane lurches severely to the left, wings tipping sideways to avoid enemy fire. “Shadow, where are they?”
His wingman twists around in his seat from behind Cassian, scouting the clear skies for the two jets behind them. There’s nothing but tense silence for a long moment before one of the planes careens into sight and he’s shouting through the comms, “On our six!”
Cassian yanks the yoke and the jet pulls upwards with enough force that he feels his heart in his gut. With a well-practiced maneuver, the plane twists and he’s pulling the trigger, releasing rounds of ammunition on the plane that's clear in sight.
It happens quickly. He watches with hawk eyes as the bullets land, tearing through the pristine metal and ripping open its body. A lucky shot destroys the stabilizer and the plane spirals out of view, the carcass dropping faster than a box of rocks.
A picture taped by the fuel gauge calms his racing heart. A photo of the girl he’d left back home, the woman he swore he’d propose to on his next leave. A pretty young thing that has stood by his side through all of his endeavors, even this most dangerous one.
He takes a breath. One down, one to go.
“Let me know when you see smoke in the air, Shadow,” he exclaims, righting the plane after a precarious turn.
Shadow, his wingman that he’s been working with since he joined up, scours the area for signs of movement. He’d been teased a lot, having the quietest recruit on his team being the one calling positions, but his eyes are as sharp as they come, and Azriel can be loud when he needs to be.
A jet lines up just behind, locking them into its sights, and within a split second it fires a missile their way.
“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!”
“Hang on,” Cassian calls back, taking the jet into a steep nosedive. The missile follows, agile as ever, but it’s Cassian who’s quick to fly by the already downed jet, the missile striking its side with an explosion he doesn’t stick around to see.
“Yes, Bloodshed! Direct hit,” Shadow calls, bracing his hands against the windows as he seeks out the plane again. It cuts through the black smoke like an avenging angel and his heart pounds in his chest as the pilot fires again. “Here comes another one!”
Cassian uses both hands to pull the plane up again, helmet sticking to the back of his seat as the plane climbs at a fast rate. “Boost the flares, now,” he orders, and Azriel does, letting them rain down for the missile to connect with.
His plan works, but they’re not out of the woods yet. Cassian splits the throttles and the jet swings around, flipping upside down for a moment of sheer terror they’ve become accustomed to. It puts them at the advantage, coming up behind the enemy plane. “Coming around!”
“You got him, Bloodshed, you got him!”
And he does, sights locking onto the enemy. “Taking the shot,” he says, pulling the trigger and setting their own projectile loose. He prays the missile lands but the pilot in the other plane is a skilled one, and maneuvers his jet in a way Cassian’s never seen before. The missile misses by a hair's breadth and the plane free falls for a moment, careening past their windows like an assailant of stealth.
“What the–”
“Holy shit. What the fuck was that?”
“Hang on, we have to get low,” Cassian grunts, flipping them so the belly of the plane is facing the sun and they’re dipping down, down, down at unnatural speeds. “We can try and dodge his attacks from between the mountains.”
Indeed, the large mountains he stared at for nights on end are enough to be able to do so, the plane nimble enough to avoid the rocky edges. Cassian pictures the three stars that are always settled over the peaks of the mountains and hopes that their other friend, Nightstalker, is doing okay. He lets them lead his way.
“Here he comes,” Azriel warns, and a second later they’re being fired at blindly. Cassian grunts, sending the jet into a series of jerks and twists to avoid the fray.
“Tell me where he is, Shadow!”
Azriel’s checking behind them again, watching the enemy burst through a cloud of debris with ease. “He’s still on us!”
They’re being shot at again, and this time, one makes their mark, he’s told by Azriel. Cassian curses low, steering through a wicked curve, not slowing down. Again, the pilot behind them fires, and Azriel’s calling out to him. “C’mon, Bloodshed, do some of that pilot shit!”
“Brace yourself,” Cassian warns before he’s pulling levers and the wings sweep open. He tugs on the yoke again and the lever switches, sending their jet into a steep climb that has both pilots struggling for breath before he’s leveling them out and nose diving towards the rushing river below.
The skill of the pilot takes them behind the enemy once more, weaving around the expanse of mountains, dangerously close.
“I’ve got a shot, I’m taking it,” Cassian says, pulling the trigger on the steering again. The missile soars through the air with undisturbed grace, locked on the enemy jet trying to outrun it. They let their flares fly and in an unfortunate turn of events, the missile strikes the rogue flares.
“Shit,” Azriel spits, “Out of missiles.”
“Switching to guns,” Cassian responds, hazel eyes flickering to your photograph for the split second they’re smothered by the missile's smoke. But as quickly as it’s cleared he’s taking his shot, firing round after round in hopes to take down the enemy plane.
He pauses for a breath as he takes in the amount of ammunition he has left before firing again and again.
None of his hits land.
“You’ve got him, Bloodshed,” Azriel encourages, peering over his shoulder to watch the battle.
“It’s not over yet,” Cassian mutters, pulling the trigger again. The ammunition is dangerously low, this is his final shot. “One last chance.”
By the grace of the Gods his hits land, flaying metal from the flaps and engines. Cassian watches the pilot eject from the plane just before it careens into the side of the mountain in a ball of fiery explosion, thick smoke coating the air.
“Yes!” Azriel cheers from the back, and it’s all Cassian can do to try and calm his breathing, the picture of your smiling face a beacon of brilliance.
Another day survived, another day closer to coming home to you.