Voltron x reader

The flight sequence

For as long as you could remember, you'd been all alone. Years of bouncing around foster homes with only a necklace given to you from your dying mother to remind you of who you were. Cold stares, heartless creatures and rough hands shaped who you were. A warrior. A fighter with no room in their heart for mercy. This world was unfair. You'd learned that lesson when your parents died together, hand in hand. No explanation, no evidence of a murder, no nothing. It was almost as if it was the cause of magic.

The government at the time investigated for 30 days. Then, they gave up. They told you that the case was uncrackable and that you'd have to bounce around foster care until someone could find a permanent home. You didn't take that as an answer. You enrolled in the Galaxy Garrison, superiors seeing your potential and using it to their advantage. They trained you day and night, hour after hour and made you into a deadly weapon. They constructed new courses that you'd go through in an hour's time. A new identity was formed for you. The students at the Garrison knew you by the nickname you received back in the early days. Moonlight. Given to you for your stealth and missions done only in the cover of the night. Your inability to fail made you an important asset to the Galaxy Garrison. Or so you thought. You thought you were better than the rest, but they threw you in with the newbies. Possibly an exercise, but you took it to heart. They sent you off with the new cadets, no words spoken. Like a silent agreement that you'd study them. Learn their strengths, weaknesses, etc. Suddenly, this whole cadet idea didn't seem so bad.

Iverson's booming voice signaled the cadets to enter the training room. A simulation you'd seen done time and time again, usually passed with ease. He stuck you with the known Wild Cards of the Galaxy Garrison. Pidge, Lance and Hunk. They played cards they weren't dealt, ignoring the rules 9 times out of 10. Lance's face was recognizable to you, but the memory was fuzzy. Everything about your past was. You wanted to think of him as someone who was possibly in your neighborhood before you moved. Someone insignificant.

The simulation began once you had taken your seats. You kept to yourself, mentally correcting each incorrect move. The first being putting Lance at the helm. He ended up jerking the ship around, not that it was his fault entirely. Hunk didn't set up the stabilizers and was clearly incapable of doing so, as the movements Lance was making caused him to go green in the face. You couldn't jeopardize the mission by getting up and helping him, so you just let him throw up in the ship. The stench sent your stomach reeling, but you just focused in on more important things. Like the fact that the ship was still shaking wildly and they still had to call in the landing.

Thankfully, Pidge was using their brain today. They grabbed the microphone attached to the vessel and spoke into it clearly, gritting their teeth to bounce back at the rotation of their pod.

"Attention Lunar Vessel, this is Galaxy Garrison Rescue Craft One Victor Six Three Tango. Coming in for landing and extraction," Pidge glared at Lance, their tone changing to annoyance, "Against crew recommendations."

Lance clicked his tongue, ignoring the absolutely correct comment Pidge had made. "No time for your mutinous comments now, Pidge. They're going under and we're going in."

This was suicide. They weren't going to succeed in this mission, because not only were they ignoring the group work that needed to be done, only one of them was actually even slightly qualified for this mission. You pushed aside the urge to jump on Lance and wrestle the controls, sending the ship on the right course and not straight down. You saw it just as Pidge said it.

"Look out for that overhang!" With Lance's ego, you thought bitterly, there's no way he won't go for it.

"No worries! My first year in flight school, you know what they called me?" The silence was overbearing as the Cuban boy answered his own question, "They called me 'The Tailor' because of how I thread the needle." You swallowed the disgust in your throat, analyzing Lance's movements. You were leaning too far left.

"Come around, come around, come on, come on." Lance pleaded, attempting to fly through the overhang, but failing miserably. Sirens began to echo throughout the ship as your view showed you tumbling in a downwards spiral.

"WE LOST A WING!" Hunk cried, pressing buttons frantically, as if it would stop the sad attempt of a mission that you'd just witnessed from being an utter failure.

"Oh boy." Lance's disappointed voice was crystal clear to you, despite sirens blaring. The ship crashed, the screens turning dark. Soon after, a Simulation Failed signal showed on the screens, flashing before Lance's bored eyes.

"Nice work, Tailor." Pidge commented, sarcasm dripping from every word they spoke. You smiled to yourself before exiting the room, into the bright lights and Iverson's rough glare.

Welcome to the updated chapter one!!! I hope you enjoy. I know, it's very different from the rest of the story right now, but eventually my writing will catch up. Comments also won't make much sense. Sorry about that one!