#path to nowhere bianca x reader

[bloom-into-blue]

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕖

summary: angell and bianca share you. that's it, that's the tweet.

contents: transfem!angell x reader x bianca, cunnil.ingus (bianca receiving), handj.ob, an.al se.x (reader receiving), fing.ering, pure, soft smut with a hint of aftercare.

word count: 1.8k

author's note: chat. i have been so very stressed. i'm sorry this was shorter than the last two fics, i just want a woman to hold me tenderly. here, have pure smut.

art source: i adore you, my teacher

bianca's quiet sighs echo throughout the room, her hands tightly gripping onto the bedsheets. yours are muffled against her, too busy parting her lips with your thumbs to lap at the sensitive flesh before you like a starved woman.

“you tightened up. c'mon, relax f’me,” you hear angell rasp behind you, two fingers already knuckle-deep into your ass while she ignores everything else entirely, something that's both unbearable yet exciting mixed together. you know what's ahead.

as if to help you relax a bit, bianca breaths out before carding her fingers through your hair gently, murmuring a quiet, “you feel so, so damn good. ugh, your tongue,” and she can't finish the sentence before a quiet gasp falls from her lips and she jolts against you, prompted by the way your teeth brush gently against her folds. she's dripping onto the bedsheets now, but no one pays any mind to such a small detail, not when angell is focusing on the way your tight hole takes her fingers, not when you're lost between the sensation of angell filling you while preparing you for her cock, and certainly not when bianca's too busy grinding against your mouth slowly, as if afraid of taking more than necessary from you. you're desperate to taste her more though, so you push your tongue against her entrance and delight in the breathy whine that follows.

angell lets out a sound between a whimper and a growl, needy for your attention as well, before she moves to your side and takes your hand gently, all while her free hand stays with two fingers inside your hole. “please,” she whispers, “touch me too.”

you'd coo at the sweet way she pleads, but you'd rather die than pull your tongue away from bianca's folds, so instead you hum against the blonde’s dripping cunt and wrap your fingers around angell's cock. her breath hitches as you stroke her at a languid pace, already noticing the way her precum drips slowly from her tip and onto your hand.

between bianca's little gasps above you, angell's quiet whimpers as you stroke her, and the latter's fingers scissoring inside your tight walls?

you feel dizzy, intoxicated, and you need to feel them both against you.

you start pumping your hand around angell faster, making her grunt at the feeling, and at the same time wrap your lips around bianca's hardened bud, which prompts her to gasp sharply and rock her hips against your mouth.

“fuck, t-that feels so good, please,” bianca mewls frantically, her grip on your hair growing tighter. her essence is all you can taste, and you know she's getting close from the way her inner thighs grow tense before relaxing and tensing up once more.

angell isn't faring any better beside you. she's all quiet pants and whines, bucking her hips against your hand as she tries to fuck it and imagining it's your pussy. that doesn't mean angell ignores your pleasure though, because her fingers are now going in and out of you at the same pace as her hips move, and all you can do is suck bianca's clit while you moan around it, just as needy as the two girls that whimper your name between needy moans and growls.

the first one to come between all of you is bianca, who throws her head back with a wanton scream and arches against you, shivering while riding her high against your tongue. you press it flat against her, letting the blonde ride you to her heart's content, happy to taste her release against you.

angell isn't too far behind from bianca though, for she lets out a choked up cry of her own and thrusts desperately into your hand, then releases her seed into your palm while her hips jerk and quiver.

her fingers still inside you though, making you whine in frustration as you pull away from bianca's pussy. “please, i-it's not fair,” you whine and wiggle your hips. bianca giggles at the sight, breathless as she is, and her hand is back to caressing your hair gently.

“don't worry, cutie. we'll spoil you for taking us so well, won't we?” bianca coos softly, her blue eyes rising to meet angell’s golden gaze.

“she's right. it's only fair we return the favor,” angell rasps. before you can process their words, both women shift theirs and your positions around, now angell is sitting on the bed with her cock against your ass, with bianca smiling in front of you like a cat that's about to get the cream.

after a last whisper against your ear of “relax,” angell starts pushing in as gently as possible, slowly sheathing herself into your ass with quiet grunts that threaten to turn into whines. you don't fare any better for the record, clinging tightly onto bianca and resting your head between her tits while letting out ragged breaths. “that's it, just like that,” you hear the blonde whisper while she gently strokes your back. with the way angell stretches you out, any discomfort you could've felt is minimal at worst, and at the same time you can feel bianca's hand traveling downward to stroke your soaked slit without actually dipping her fingers inside, the tease that she is.

finally, when angell is buried inside you all the way, both of you are already breathless and desperate for her to start moving, though for some god forsaken reason she manages to hold back. “keep my cock warm for a bit, alright?” she murmurs into your ear, then presses all of her front against your back, letting you feel her soft chest and the way her pebbled nipples brush against your skin.

“don't worry, i can keep you busy,” bianca purrs, and finally parts your lower lips in order to push two fingers in, her body flush against yours and her soft nipples pressing against yours while absolutely tempting you to just lean down and suck onto them. the only thing stopping you from actually doing that is the way her fingers move at a tantalizing and slow pace, coupled with angell's cock filling you and making your mind empty itself in record time.

all you can do now is try to grind back, falling into angell's embrace and feeling her cock twitch inside your ass, or try to roll your hips forward, with bianca thrusting her fingers into your drenched pussy as a reward. you need both, yet all you can do is whimper and whine instead of actually begging for them to ravish you like you want to.

after a few brief moments, angell’s resolve finally cracks, and soon she's pulling out until nothing but her tip remains inside, then slowly pushes herself back in. “fucking hell,” she grunts before she starts thrusting in earnest against you, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck while bringing out rhythmic little moans out of you.

bianca's breath hitches at the display, and her smile widens as she decides now it's a good idea to start pumping in and out of you, resting her forehead against yours in an effort to keep you grounded. “just let yourself go. we'll both take care of you.”

so she says, but between the squelching of her palm against your labia and angell snapping her hips against yours faster every second, it's hard to say anything beyond a shaky, “please…”

you can feel the way angell smiles against your skin, still dizzy with her own pleasure yet proud of how much of a mess she's already making out of you. without any warning, her hands shoot up to your breasts and begin kneading them gently, right before she starts rolling one bud between her fingers while pinching the other, effectively drawing even louder cries out of you. “hey, no fair!” bianca calls out with a pout while thrusting her fingers into you at an even faster pace, and if her arm burns, she doesn't show it. in an attempt to upstage angell, bianca grits her teeth before a sly grin rises to her face, and suddenly her lips are pressed against yours and her tongue is already pushing into your mouth when you let out even more needy mewls.

for her part, angell doesn't seem jealous, and if anything her smile widens at the sight while her hands continue to toy with your nipples. all the while, her cock keeps going in and out of you; it only manages to feel even thicker when it's inside your asshole, you can barely breathe from the pleasure alone. bianca's now distracted herself rather well by kissing you and making an even bigger mess between your legs, while her free hand grips onto your hips and, surprisingly enough, guides you so you're grinding back and forth.

you barely know where angell begins and bianca ends now, all you know is both of these women are consuming your entire being right now.

cracks start to appear in angell’s composed appearance, and what started out as confident grunts are slowly dissolving into needy cries against the back of your neck; suddenly her pace becomes less measured, far more sloppy, and each thrust goes deep enough inside you that your eyes roll back every time.

bianca notices the change thanks to the desperate moans you're letting out and pulls away from ravaging your mouth to grin. “oh, we can't have you come before our princess here, she chastises angell, right before a third finger enters your pussy and suddenly her pace is incomprehensibly fast. skills of a sinner, you'd rationalize when your brain wasn't melting out of your cunt. even worse (or better) is when the blonde starts playing with your clit using her free hand, something that makes you scream out and quiver around her fingers mere seconds later, which has bianca smiling impossibly wide. she simply keeps rubbing it in tight little circles while you clench around her fingers, all the while cooing in your ear.

angell’s eyes widen behind you. “w-wait, fuck, she got tighter-” she manages to blurt out before a whole whimper falls from her lips, and her pace turns borderline animalistic now, easily prolonging your release and threatening to make you entirely dumb on her cock. “gonna come,” she warns between desperate cries, then moments later makes her promise come true as her warm seed fills up your tight walls. only then does she allow her hips to slow down before going still entirely.

“good girl… you took all that so well,” angell praises before gently turning your head to the side so she can kiss your lips now, the contact sweet and chaste.

“can't say i disagree. you looked beautiful there, sweetheart,” bianca whispers as her smile turns genuine and her hand goes back to caressing your hip softly.

with the two of them holding you gently like this, making sure you're okay after all that, it feels like heaven itself is wrapped against you, naked and sweaty as they may be.

moments later though, you're finally coherent enough to realize angell hasn't pulled out. neither has bianca retracted her fingers for that matter.

“round two?” angell rasps.

“pretty please…!” bianca adds.

with a sigh, you realize this night is far from over.

[sinful-lanterns]

GOING LIVE!

synopsis: (camgirl AU) collaborating with various ptn women for your streams.

featuring: eleven, deren, bianca, shawn, angell

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom characters, adult se.x work, camming, fing.ering, strap ons, exhibition, voyeur.ism, deren grows a di.ck, oral, toys, mast.urbation, doggy style, riding, lap se.x, pet names, praise, masked se.x, belly bulge, may be ooc.

art credits: my drunken boss

ELEVEN

With your back pressed against Eleven and her fingers working like magic on your clit, your breathless whimpers were picked up by the microphone in front of you and left hundreds of viewers waiting on bated breath. The audio quality was astounding thanks to the help of Eleven’s professional equipment, but you couldn’t really fawn over it yet because of how good Eleven’s fingers felt plunging into your hot, slimy folds… 

“Welcome back to our Saturday Night special on Call at 3 AM…” Eleven didn’t even seem fazed by the speechless silence coming from you as she was too busy making sure the stream was perfect, “Joining me today is a woman that many of you…heh…are familiar with…” She gave you a soft smile before grabbing onto the camera and making it zoom closer on your face, the viewers instantly spamming the chat with heart emojis and bounties of cash, already kicking your night off with a plethora of fans.

“…Oh my, it seems that my viewers recognize you already.” Eleven cooed, using her free hand to tilt your head back to her before kissing the shell of your ear. As you were distracted, she grabbed the head of the camera and tilted it downwards to focus more on your cunt, the audience getting a high quality view of Eleven’s fingers sinking into your wet, velvety walls. 

The squelching noises picked up from the mic were so lewd. So intimate. For a woman as innocent as Eleven seemed, she definitely knew what she was doing. “Let me hear those moans, pretty girl. I know you can be as loud as the lips down here.” She giggled and teased your entrance with another finger, the tip swirling little circles around your folds before slowly inching in. Right away your leg flinched at the third intrusion, walls spreading to accommodate all three of Eleven’s fingers while she wormed her way inside of you. Even if she couldn’t feel any pleasure herself, you could hear Eleven’s breaths falter as she felt you tighten so sweetly around her fingers. 

“Oh…baby…” Eleven nearly whimpered, her voice making you quiver as she began thrusting her hand up and smacked her palm against your clit, “Enjoying yourself on my fingers? Our fans certainly are…” 

She smiled and adjusted her hold on you so that your back was pushing harder against her breasts. Though currently overwhelmed with the sensation of Eleven’s lithe fingers curling up against that tiny spot you adore, you could feel just how turned on she was by how stiff her nipples were against your back. If you could turn around and suck them in your mouth you would, but she kept a firm grip on your hips and made you face the camera for all to see. Your craving for her breasts will have to wait…

“Uh uh…eyes on the camera, my good girl…” Eleven purred, eyes going half lidded at your adorable expressions, “Everyone wants to see you…give them a show why don’t you…? She laughed and pushed her fingers even deeper than they’ve ever been before, ripping a moan right out of your throat like a primal growl deep within. “Mmpf…right there, baby? Yeah? You like that…?” 

She giggled and continued thrusting her digits faster, finger fucking you until all the chat could hear were your desperate little whines and Eleven’s slaps against your ass. “You’re such a natural at this…look at how many patrons are paying for our show, sweetie…”

Eleven groaned huskily before licking the side of your cheek, suddenly pushing you down on the bed with your ass up and stomach pressed against the sheets. “Don’t worry, chat…for tonight’s 3 AM special, we’ll be going all the way until dawn…. So hang tight, grab some lube, and just enjoy the show…” She winked playfully at the camera before hovering above you and caging you beneath her. “Stay like this for a little while longer, okay baby? We’re gonna be here for quite a while…” 

She kissed your cheek before you felt the thick, stiff prodding of her strap push against your already sopping entrance, the rest of the night a dizzy blur, as all you could see were Eleven’s hair curtaining your head, and the spam of donations coming from the chat…

DEREN

“Ah, well would you look at that. Our first donation of the night and I haven’t even done anything…” Deren smiled lazily as she was currently laying against the bed with you on top of her, completely naked while Deren only wore her jacket and her boxers. Though she was just a director, she was also excellent at filming too, her hands steady on the camera while she gave all your viewers a mouthwatering shot of you about to ride Deren like no tomorrow. 

“No strap. Boring?” Deren chuckled as she read one particular comment from the stream. “Oh, I’ve got something way cooler than a strap.” 

Using her special sinner abilities, Deren was able to conjure up a growing cock from underneath her boxers, stretching the muscle against the cloth of her underwear, until you inevitably freed it by yanking the elastic down. Like a spring, it bounced up due to how hard it was, the blood immediately rushing to the tip and making Deren groan with pleasure. “Fuck…” she licked her lips as she made eye contact with you from behind the camera, the live chat going crazy as no one has ever seen anything like this before. “I shouldn’t have envisioned it so hard already…” 

Yet although Deren was groaning to herself, you on the other hand were smirking and staring smugly at the camera. You were excited to collaborate with Deren for this exact reason; her S-Class sinner abilities that allowed her to make anything she fantasized into a reality. 

“Are you just gonna sit there and drool at it, babe?” Deren rested her hands behind her head and looked up at you, chuckling, “Or are you gonna ride me like you promised to…?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Deren’s smug attitude but decided to play along. As you angled your body to face the camera more clearly, you grabbed onto the base of her shaft and gave it a few, steady pumps, feeling along the girth and length of it. “Like it? I tried thinking of a size that best fit you,” Deren hummed, finding pleasure in the way your fingers wrapped around her stubby base. You nodded, clearly excited to get to the main course of your stream and show everyone just how good you could please another woman. Hovering just above her cockhead, you playfully ran your thumb over the tip before nestling it between your entrance, breath hitching as you slowly sank down on her length. 

“Shit…” Deren suddenly cursed under her breath and weld her eyes shut, the feeling of your warm, hot pussy enveloping her making her head go dizzy with ecstasy. “Haven’t even started and you feel like heaven…” 

She tried to play off the amount of pleasure she was feeling but couldn’t resist releasing a small moan when you sank all the way to the base. With just a bit of spit, lube and foreplay, you were already opening up so wonderfully for her, tight walls gripping at Deren like your life depended on it, all the while the director kept a firm hold on the camera. Despite her professionalism in this line of work, her hands were trembling from how good you made her feel, causing the livestream footage to be a little shaky…

“Heh…the watchers love you,” Deren comments, trying to avert your attention away from how pathetic she was being. “Why don’t you start riding me now? The audience is getting antsy for some action.” 

She attempted to relax back against the pillows, before you suddenly bounced on her hips and made her choke on her spit. Instantly, it felt like she was going to pass out from how good she felt, your pussy swallowing her in and out every time you bounced on top of her. “Oh…b-babe…” her face went red with pleasure as the comments immediately flooded in, cooing over how cute you looked riding your director’s dick. 

‘Not so smug now, are you?’ You couldn’t help but think, smiling before letting out the moans you held in while Deren’s fat cock plugged you whole. Sure, Deren was a professional when it came to shooting films and movies, but she sure as hell was inexperienced when in the place of the actor. As more donations and comments flooded in your comment section, you could only smile and listen to every suggestion Deren had to read; cockrings, sucking her off, fleshlights…? Oh, you were certainly going to have a fun time with your dearest director….

The poor woman was going to be an amateur at something after all…

BIANCA

With a shaky camera lens and Bianca’s eyes attentively focused on you, you sat sprawled out in front of her with a dildo in your hands currently thrusting into your cunt. When Bianca said she was an expert in filming things thanks to her job as a reporter, you believed her and let her collaborate with you on set. However, now that you actually had her helping you film one of your livestreams up close, you could see that Bianca’s “professionalism” was starting to slip through the cracks the more she watched you. 

“A-Ah…you’re doing great!” Bianca’s voice cracked, sweat starting to drip down her face as she tried to keep herself from blushing. To be honest, just the sight of you naked in front of her was enough to make her nervous, legs clamping together to hide the wetness forming in her pants, all the while she tried to distract herself by reading some of the livestream comments. 

“So many donations already! W-Wow…your fans really love you!” Bianca giggled, though there was an obvious lump in her throat from how much saliva was gathering in her mouth. Poor girl was drooling so much, her blue eyes trained on that ribbed dildo and silently wishing she was the one pushing it inside of you. “Hnn…many are suggesting for you to try the other toys next…” 

Bianca couldn’t help but gulp as her eyes trailed over to the selection of toys you had prepared for yourself. Dildos of different colors, vibrators, nipple clamps, plugs, the broad selection made Bianca tremble as she imagined you in various positions with different things to make you scream. The urge to touch herself was strong, yet no matter how much she wanted to stuff her fingers down her pants and masturbate to the sight of you fucking yourself live on silicone, she was determined to keep filming.  

You, of course, noticed just how riled up Bianca was getting judging by how much she was biting her lip. If you kept up like this for an hour or two, Bianca’s lips would be all bloody and blue. “You can touch yourself, my sweet camerawoman,” you assured softly, teasingly spreading your legs wider to give both your audience and Bianca a better view. “I’m sure my fans wouldn’t mind a little bit of shaky footage.” 

A small gasp left Bianca’s lips as her knees practically buckled in excitement. Resisting the urge to just toss the camera away and tackle you to the bed to have her way, she eagerly pushed her pants down, fingers quickly finding her entrance and swirling them around while she kept watching you. “Oh…damn.” Bianca squeaked, smiling ear to ear while a blissful expression overtook her face. “I could get used to this. No wonder— mmpf, so many people pay to watch you. You’re like a movie star!” 

Despite her excited tone, you could see just how much you were affecting her, her eyes half lidded in pleasure while the shuffling in her pants indicated how fast she was fingering herself. Her lips were slightly parted as if frozen between a moan and a whimper, her cute face going all pink with how hot her body was getting. “Nnnn feels so good…but…I wanna know if you feel good too…” 

Despite not being supposed to talk much during the livestream, Bianca couldn’t keep her babbling mouth shut. She couldn’t help but whine about her needs to finger you and make you hers, to kiss those pretty lips and distract you while she grabs that dildo and shows you how much harder she could fuck you. “Wanna touch you so bad…ah…please…” chatty that she was, silently pleading for you to let her do something. “Please…please, I wanna touch you too…you look so good like this…” 

Unable to resist her pretty begs any longer, you groaned and slid the ribbed toy out of you, using a finger to beckon her closer. “Alright…” you whispered breathlessly, pussy clamping over nothing now as it now craved to have something inside it once more. “Go ahead Bianca, I’m all yours…” 

Your poor viewers could only watch as the camera shook and was scuffled away to prop itself on your desk. The angle was messy and the quality decreased a little, but no one really cared as they all watched in amusement when Bianca lunged herself at you. Ready to give the audience a show that she’d been wanting to do with you all night…

SHAWN

“Keep the camera on my good side. You’ll get more followers that way.”

Cocky that she was, yet Shawn was an interesting collaborator to work with, as her good looks and charisma instantly had your viewers swooning and spamming various donations in your comments for her to demolish you. She was definitely riding a high horse when you asked her to collaborate with you for your “special streams” but Shawn was quick to say yes. How could she ever turn down the opportunity to fuck a pretty girl like you? Especially in front of a live audience on the internet where she could display her talents in pleasing a woman. 

“Ah, many of them seem to like me…” Shawn grinned as she watched all the oncoming messages spew out like flies. She was nonchalant, relaxed almost, if not for the fact that she had you gagging on her strap and drooling so prettily for the camera. “Make her choke some more?” Shawn tsked as she read another slew of comments, a bit impressed by how dirty your fans could be, “My, your viewers are quite the sadistic bunch, aren’t they?”

Shawn gently patted your cheek and gazed down at you rather condescendingly, her hand moving up to rest on the top of your head and nudge you down. “Ease down a little lower, pretty girl. You’re lucky I’m only nice to you.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of ever being rough with you. While she knew you were able to take a bit of rough manhandling from her, she didn’t want to make her pretty girl cry (even though she knew you loved it when she made you cry during sex).

“Deeper��deeper…” Shawn exhaled shakily as she eased you down on her fake cock, eyes trained on the way you greedily slurped on her shaft like it was your last meal. The clear strings of drool that clung to the sides of your lips made Shawn shiver with rogue imagination. “Fuuuck, you’re good at this…” Shawn grumbled, grinning at the way you took it down like a champ, “Your cheeks look so cute when they’re full. We should have you suck me off more often…”

She laughed at the thought, accidentally pushing your head down further and causing you to choke on her strap. “Shit. Sorry, sorry…” she immediately softened and pulled you back so you could slide off, your drool clinging onto the warm silicone and attaching you to the tip by your tongue. Despite Shawn’s rare show of concern however, you brushed off her worries and gave her a look that indicated you wanted to do more. You weren’t here to be babied and coddled, you were here to get fucked and fucked good. 

“Oh…oh…” Shawn’s face relaxed back into its nonchalant state, and she immediately smiled at your show of enthusiasm. “You’re tougher than I thought, kitten.” 

She eased your mouth back down on her strap, grabbing onto the camera to make sure the audience got a full view of your lips wrapping around her head, the girth of it all was making your cheeks puff up as you continued to bob your head down on Shawn. The sight of you on your knees for her, gazing up at her with innocent, doe-like eyes was sending Shawn on a little power trip that made her eyes darken with lust. 

“You know…as hot as you are throating my strap, I can’t help but think it’s lubed enough already.” She snickered a little before tilting your chin up to gaze at her, mouth still occupied with her dick, “On your knees once more, but this time…ass up.” 

A flurry of comments quickly overwhelmed the live chat, reactions and donations alike clearly excited for what Shawn was about to do to you as she pushed you down into doggy position. “Make sure to get on this side. Yeah, this side is where the camera gets my best side.” She chuckled at her words before swirling the tip of her strap against your already soaked folds, her cockiness canceled out by the amount of cock she was going to put in you…

ANGELL

Dressed in an all dark mask that obscured Angell’s identity on stream, the only thing that your viewers could see through the camera lens; were the long dark locs of Angell’s hair, and the lewd facial expressions you made as your “mysterious guest” fucked you silly on her strap. Right away, your viewer count had exploded when your special guest revealed herself for your livestream of the night, leaving many of your viewers spamming heart emojis and comments all complimenting on how hot your guest looked while fucking you. 

Despite wearing a mask, everyone could tell Angell was quite the looker. Strong, chiseled abs pulsing and flexing with each thrust of her hips, her defined jawline showing off how beautiful she was underneath the mask… Not to mention how hot her voice was whenever she grunted everytime you squeezed around her. Everything about your mysterious guest was alluring, and thanks to Angell, everyone was completely mesmerized (including you). 

“S-Slower…Slower…” you whimpered, gripping onto her shoulders as she bulldozed into you at a pace only she could achieve. Her breathing was ragged and hot, her lust for you evident in the way she excitedly nipped at your neck. “Sorry… she grumbled softly, yet her pace barely slowed down, her body struggling to keep itself from thrusting even faster. “I’m…excited.”

Judging from the tips of her ears, Angell was blushing. For a woman as stoic as she was, you hadn’t expected her to be so soft and vulnerable around you, even when you couldn’t even see her face that well. It was clear that having you beneath her, legs pathetically wrapped around her waist and clinging to her like your life depended on it, really shook up Angell’s nerves as she wanted to be as close to you as possible. 

Her abs met with the bare skin of your tummy, breath faltering as she pushed her faux cock even further. She was being so intimate, grumbling to herself as her calloused hands moved down to rest upon your soft belly, feeling the smallest of bulges appear whenever she thrusted in and out. “So deep…” she murmured to herself, mesmerized by the sight of her strap going so far, palm gently applying a bit of pressure on the bulge. You whimpered at the extra pressure, your walls clinging onto Angell’s shaft and keeping her locked in place. As she tried to slip out to thrust into you again, she found herself unable to, groaning at the feeling and holding onto your hips. “T-Tight…” she mumbled quietly, gently prying your legs off of her so she could move. “Relax…easy…” 

Her words made your viewers gush about how soft she was being towards you. While Angell looked very intimidating and they expected a whole dominatrix session between you and her, Angell surprised everyone with how gentle she was, her fingers massaging your thighs so that your cunt could ease up a little, and allowing her to slide out once your walls finally relaxed. 

Finally finding a rhythm she could work with, Angell continued her movements, using her arm strength to lift up off the bed and fuck you at an angle where her tip could brush against your sweet spot. When you immediately whined from how far Angell was spearing you, she took notice and hungrily continued to pound against that spot, making your body bounce pathetically from how hard she was ravaging you. 

Various comments and donations poured in, all eager to see Angell destroy you even when she tried her best to be gentle. 

“Make her cum!”

“Fuck her like you’re breeding her!”

“Make her clean you off later when she cums.” 

As all the suggestions piled up, Angell snuck a glance at the chat and smiled a bit under her mask. Though it was hard to see, it was like a switch had gone off in her head as she began pistoning her hips even faster, her hands gentle but her pace outright brutal. It felt like you were about to cum soon given by how fast she was screwing you, your fingers grasping onto Angell’s back and clawing at it until you felt the band snap within your core. 

Angell growled when she felt your release coat all over her strap and bed, the comments all excited when you finally came thanks to Angell’s efforts. While you took a breather and laid back on the bed to smile blissfully at the chat, it seemed that Angell had other plans, as she let you take a break for a few seconds before hovering her cum-stained strap over your lips. Shocked by how bold she was, you gazed up at Angell with curious eyes.

“One of them suggested you clean me off…” Angell murmured, a little shy but clearly willing as she pushed the tip to your lips. “And…I would like that.”

You only chuckled at her statement before leaning in and grabbing her soaked strap, wrapping your lips around the head and beginning to bob your head up and down. 

[unhappy-last-resort]

Sneak Peaks & Snippets

Here are some snippets from a few drafts I have. All yandere, of course, and featuring Punishing: Gray Raven, Path To Nowhere, Love and Deepspace, and Genshin Impact.

Keep in mind all of these are wips and will change in the final result, I am also not certain when these will be finished. Regardless, I hope you enjoy these little sneak peaks!

Warnings: mentions of blood, yandere

Edit: I went back through and labeled each snippet along with the fandom it belongs to

You didn't expect Gray Raven to track you down after a mere two hours and demand an explanation out of you, only to then immediately join you and adamantly refuse any and all attempts to persuade, or force them to turn back.

Bad Decisions (Bianca, Punishing: Gray Raven)

It's been 30 hours since you all defected from Babylonia. You simply couldn't stand with Babylonia after they sent a small, yet sizeable amount of Purifying Force and Task Force members to conduct a search through one of the Forsaken's smaller camps. People were hurt, Constructs killed, Forsaken soldiers taken to Babylonia under arrest. Suffice to say, it was a mess and an unjustified one in your opinion. So you left.

"We're Gray Raven." Lucia told you resolutely, her twin tails billowing in the wind behind her, a fire alight in her red eyes that was reflected in the coolness of Lee's and the earnestness of Liv's. "Whatever we face, we face together. And we will face it with you, and only you."

Terror carried your legs through the fresh snow, occasionally slipping on wet leaves, or tripping over a root, but you didn't fall and as long as you didn't, you still had a chance to live.

Unnamed (Noan, Punishing: Gray Raven)

You pulled the trigger, a loud bang ringing endlessly in your ears without the added ear protection you usually wore and in an instant the shadow started moving towards you. As the shadow became more and more pronounced, to the point you could see two golden eyes fixated on you, you turned and ran.

The pines around you became blurs of brown, green, and white as you ran down a hill. You could still hear it behind you, twigs snapping loudly and leaves rustling as your pursuer ran after you. Your breath came in little puffs of white smoke as your throat felt dry from the frigid air. You had to keep running no matter what, but how long can you run for? Can you outrun a wolf?

Your foot catches and unlike the previous times, you can't catch yourself in time. You think you hear something behind you, a low, pleased rumble closing in. You tumble forward, your head hitting a rock buried beneath the snow as your body hits trees and debris at random until you finally fall into a soft patch of snow at the bottom of the hill.

Disoriented, you try to stand only to fall to your knees, the world leaving afterimages of it as you move your head, your brain still spinning from the fall, but amidst your haze, you see the wolf rapidly declining, seemingly faster than before. As you were about to lift your gun, the wolf comes closer and through blankets of snow, reveals a pale face with grey hair with two strands of white in the front, and golden eyes peering through a pair of old glasses on his nose.

You breath a sigh of relief and you're about to fling yourself forward into his arms and whisper how glad you are that he's safe into his ear when you notice the streaks of red and vital fluid splattered across his face and staining his clothes.

“I missed you.” She whispered so quietly as if it was a secret that should be kept only between the two of you. She pulled you tightly into an embrace, her arms nestling so firmly around your shoulders that you wouldn't be able to pull away. “You have no idea how much I've missed coming home to you.”

Unnamed (Angell, Path To Nowhere)

Her breath smelled like the cup noodle chicken she had stored in her safe house when you there. It made your heart flutter softly at the familiarity of it.

Despite the circumstances of your first meeting, it had blossomed into something greater, into something you looked back on with a sense of fondness, although you'd still prefer to never be in such circumstances again- even if it was with her. You returned her hug, relishing in the feeling of being able to touch her after months and months of dreaming about it. “I missed you too.”

She pulls away, just enough so she can tilt your face up at her, her eyes scanning yours with an uncanny eagerness swirling behind her eyes, in contrast to her usual sluggish nature. “You have?”

“Of course I have, Angell!” You barely stifle a giggle. “You just went and disappeared for so long I thought you-”

Something cold and hard latches around your wrists, squeezing around the bones painfully. You look down to find your wrists bound in the red handcuffs that were hanging of her belt loop, you slowly raised your eyes to meet hers, a small, fond smile was the only difference in her expression as she traces the outline of your jaw with her gloved hand.

“Angell? What's this for?” You shuddered as memories and feelings started coming back to you, the ones you had forgotten or overlooked in your blind desire for nostalgia. The dread, the confusion, the smell of iron that would waft through the door with her like in announcement of her presence and would cling to her clothes as if it had been baked into the very material itself.

“Shhhh...” You could feel the cool leather of her gloves on your hands, her thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. “It's alright, I'm taking you home now.”

At once, the warmth you had felt in her presence turned cold, the golden hues of her eyes that you had found comfort in had become something sinister and possessive, your bedroom suddenly feeling far too small to escape from the danger now inside it. Perhaps this had always been the case, perhaps she was always this frightening and you had simply ignored it in favor of something softer and kinder.

“I assume this seat is free?” He asks as he lowers himself onto the bar stool. Not like I would stop him even if my friends were here.

Unnamed (Sylus, Love and Deepspace)

“Hey.” A deep voice sounds in my ear and echoes through my bones, giving me a heart attack. I jerk away from the voice and make sure to give the stranger a what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you face. He's tall, got white hair, I'm almost certain it's pure white, and his coat tossed over his shoulder and a red button-up on with some pattern on it I can't fully make out. His collar and a couple buttons below it are unbuttoned though, can't say I blame him. Even I had to take off my cardigan after a few minutes of being in here. He's muscular, probably the type that likes to lift weights for fun- Oh, he's leaning towards me again. The fuck does he want?

“Yeah.” I turn my attention back to the rows of glasses and alcohol behind the bar. I'm tempted to drink something heavy, very tempted, but I have to look out for myself here. I check my phone, 12:00 A.M., the next bus is at 12:30 and the last bus is at 2:30 and it stops right outside the bar. Just a little bit more and then I'll be able to go home, put on my PJ's and rewatch my favorite show for the hundredth time...maybe I'll order some pizza to go with it.

“Waiting on friends?” The stranger asks sounding half curious and half bored, mostly bored.

I laugh with a grimace. “Yeah.” It's not technically a lie, and besides, I was taught to never divulge details to a stranger, especially in these parts of the city.

There's a moment of silence from the stranger and I breath a sigh of relief that he's not pressing on it.

“Did you come for the band?” He rests his arms on the bar and looks at me, though he doesn't look like he cares if I answer or not.

“Yeah, my friends have been following this band for a while.” I click my tongue and take a sip of my water. “They were real excited about it.”

He raises a brow and cocks his head to the side, not unlike a cat finding something interesting. “Were?”

Oops.

“Yeah, uh- they are! I just misspoke earlier.” I laugh it off with a smile. Hopefully that's enough to cover for my screw up. Damn it, I just wanna go home.

He nods and looks away for a moment, and I assume the conversation is done until he looks at me again and leans towards me. “My name's Sylus.” He reaches out a hand, again though, he doesn't look like he's expecting much of anything.

Inwardly, he hesitated. The uncertainty he had felt- had always felt- about this plan of his had come center stage and was impossible to deny. Was it right to cage a dove that had already been caged before? Was it right to keep a dove hidden in the confines of a household after it had already escaped another? Was it right to stab them where someone else had stabbed before?

Unnamed (Lyney, Genshin Impact)

Your sweet face, usually adorned in cautious smiles and thinly veiled curiosity, was contorted into a silent scream of agony. Your eyes brimmed with tears, your lips were shut tight but trembling, your eyebrows furrowed into something between anger and sadness.

Outwardly, though, he was already by your side, whispering practiced words of comfort that sounded genuine to anyone else, but he knew that you knew how hollow they actually were, but he pretended you didn't. If he set this dove free, who's to say someone else won't come find them? Trap them against their will and break their wings to splinters? At least if he has to break them- if you push him to break them, he'll be gentle with it, and isn't that better than someone else? Than the unknown?

He thought so, at least he hoped it was so.

“Yes, and you're required to have a commandant.” He pauses as he finishes typing something on his terminal. “You're allowed to request who.” At that, Chrome finally looks up at him, his eyes as blue as the ocean which only hints at how deep it goes, yet never revealing what lies inside. It was as though he already knew what his answer was going to be.

Unnamed (Camu, Punishing: Gray Raven)

Camu sniffs and rolls his shoulders, his artificial muscles straining against his harness as if he could smell the battle from Babylonia. “A new mission, huh.”

Camu nods, not bothering to hide his glee as a smile creeping onto his face. He'll finally get to see you again, and not just passing each other in hallways, or briefly catching site of each other while waiting for your respective transport ships this time, he'll be able to talk to you again, to hear your voice, watch all your expressions and mannerisms. Hell, he might even be able to touch you again, he still occasionally feels the ghostly sensation of warmth on his hand even after all this time, the warmth your mitochondria orchestrates as your blood busily works to keep you alive, it's your warmth. It made him almost giddy to finally be able to make good on that promise of yours and touch more of you, perhaps even be able to taste you if he got lucky.

Chrome hesitates briefly, and for a split second, a ripple is seen in the usually ever calm ocean, but before Camu has the chance to linger on it, he curtly nods instead. “Good luck on your mission.” It's as affirmative and steadfast as it always is when Chrome bids him good luck.

“Thanks.” He nods before heading towards the disinfectant zone. The cautious side of him thinks that he should be wary, but the rest of him is undecided.

He looked like he had stepped out of a book with his creamy white tailcoat, jabot collar, and golden accents throughout his outfit. It made you feel a little plain in yours by comparison.

Ocean's Longing (Chrome, Punishing: Gray Raven)

"Commandant." His voice was low and crystalline, it made the air around you shudder like the tap of a knife rang through a line of crystal glasses. His voice wasn't loud enough for any other party goer to notice, but you heard him as clearly as if it was just the two of you here. A pocket dimension where only you two existed. "You hadn't told me you'd come."

"I didn't think you'd be here." You respond quietly, staring at the marble floor. You wondered if it was real or not. "...This didn't seem like your type of thing."

"You're not wrong." He took a step forward, his navy blue shoes coming into your vision. "I'm not very fond of this environment."

A warm breath fans against your ear, sending goosebumps over your skin with each whispered syllable. "I happen to have a place of retreat, if you'd like."

You wonder what people would think if they saw the son of one of the most powerful individuals in Babylonia whispering in the ear of some commandant. Something scandalous, no doubt.

"Won't people notice your absence?" You glance at a nearby group of officers, all smiles as they're engrossed in conversation with one another.

Chrome's lack of response prompts you to look at him again. He has an unreadable expression on his face again, a look you've gradually become more familiar with recently.

He shakes his head, but offers no explanation, instead he offers you his hand. You take it.

[shrimshrim4fun]

Bianca Headcanons:

Note: Haven’t posted much PTN but I’ll try to post more ><

SFW:

-Massive golden retriever energy. Very hyper and childish. Also a big softie to animals and loves feeding the stray cats and dogs she sees. Gets super sad when she sees them

-Touch starved. Always will have her hands around you, linking pinkies, any form of physical touch. Clings to you like a koala and refuses to let go

-Lots of her fridge is filled with her so called “apple juice” Always groggily lays on you when she finishes one. Sometimes if she has seconds she’ll start mumbling embarrassing things she has done in the past

-LOVES taking pictures of you. Has photo albums upon photo albums of just you and her together. She’s decent at taking pictures but she tries her very best just for you ❤️

-Very much a morning person. The type to be “Rise and shine! Today’s gonna be another amazing day!” At 6:00 AM in the morning, shaking you awake and gently tapping your nose. Though on rare occasions she’ll sleep like she’s dead, light snores as clings onto you tightly. Will start whining and nuzzling against you if you try to move away

-Can not keep plants alive for her life. They magically just keep on dying 😔 She’ll start crying and telling you how it’s not fair but a little comforting will make her happy again

-Can’t really cook either. Almost blew up the kitchen the last time she tried. Probably the type that can burn water. So she usually has instant ramen or takeout. Loves your cooking. Does not complain anything about it

-Uses those cute emojis like >< when she’s texting you. And she’ll start to sulk and worry when you don’t text her under 20 minutes when you guys are texting

-Gets jealous quite easily and doesn’t like it when she sees you hanging out with people she hasn’t seen you before with. Will sulk and ask you about it but a forehead kiss and some reassuring words will solve it

NSFW:

-I think she’s more of a switch. She wants to make sure she can pleasure the both of you and make both of you two feel good. If she has any discomfort she’ll tell you immediately and she hopes you can do the same

-Loves loves taking pictures of your body or videos. Has a small secret collection of it. Sometimes she’ll secretly look through them and get aroused. Doesn’t really know what to do as she feels the heat between her legs.

-Probably is a virgin. Doesn’t really know the terms or how any of the stuff works so you have to guide her through the process.

-Gets super proud if she makes you cum when she fingers you. And will start grinning at the noises you make and how you moan her name. “That’s good isn’t it?” She’ll ask a lot of questions at first, wanting to make sure she does it the right way

-Is very willing to try out many different things with you with a bit too much eagerness. Loves seeing the reactions she can get out of you. Also big into body worshipping, roaming her hands across your skin as she looks at you mesmerized.

-Biggest punishment for her is letting her finger herself as you watch or tying her up with a vibrator up her pussy on the lowest setting and make her watch you finger yourself. She wants your hands on her and her hands of you at all times so it pains her to see you touching yourself. Adding onto the fact she’s getting little to no stimulation

-Loves praise. Always feels so happy she’s making you feel good with what she’s doing. Not too big into degrading in my opinion especially if she’s the one giving it. She knows it’s not personal and only for the fun but she doesn’t like it in general. Also loves giving praise telling how good you are and how well your doing

-After care mostly consists of you two cuddling. Loves nuzzling against you and hugging you against her knowing that you’re with her. Love kissing your neck and cheek as you guys cuddle.

Ending note: I’ll be posting Shawn’s later when I get to it :D I hope it’s not out of character in general but I enjoyed the event a lot and I hope you did too.

[queenpiranhadon]

- Runaway, AURORA

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛꜱ:

𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖛𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘

𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗 𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝕳𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘

𝕶𝖆𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖐𝖎 𝕭𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚 𝕭𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖗

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞𝖇𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙

ᴋᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ᴄɪᴛɪᴇꜱ:

⟢ May I Have This Dance? ⎸⎸ Sandor x Grizel Oneshot › Grizel finally takes Sandor on that dance he owed her.

⟢ You Must Be Lost ⎸⎸ Sokeefe Oneshot › Keefe asks Sophie if he’s still the guy he was all those years ago.

⟢ His Friend ⎸⎸ Neverseen! Grady x Black Swan! Edaline Oneshot › Grady stops repressing his Talent and instead works to make himself more powerful alongside the Neverseen. But all actions have consequences.

ʀɪᴏʀᴅᴀɴᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ:

⟢ Sorella ⎸⎸ Riordanverse Oneshot › Bianca has to tie up some loose ends before she’s ready for rebirth

⟢ We're Not in Kansas Anymore ⎸⎸ Percabeth Oneshot › Percy decided to uphold the promise he made to Annabeth all those years ago.

⟢ Broken ⎸⎸ Leo Valdez x Reader › You stop Leo from making a mistake he'll regret.

ꜱᴛᴀʀᴅᴇᴡ ᴠᴀʟʟᴇʏ:

⟢ Pumpkin Soup ⎸⎸ Sebastian x F!Reader › You find out how to make the resident all time gloomy boy Sebastian, like you.

⟢ After 10﹕00 ⎸⎸ Alex x F!Reader › Alex takes notices of the local lumberjack after she beats his high score at the Stardew Valley Fair. He decides to talk to her.

ʜɪɢʜ ᴄʟᴀꜱꜱ ʜᴏᴍᴏꜱ:

⟢ The Sea Song ⎸⎸ HCH Oneshot › Three girls and their captivating music attracts the ears and hearts of the small village they were in. Little did they know that this happy family, wasn't so happy at all...

ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ:

⟢ Sweet Angel ⎸⎸ Bucky Barnes x Reader › You fall apart after your year-long boyfriend disappears without a trace. You thought you moved on, and now here he is, months later with no recollection of who you are.

ᴀᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴀɪʀʙᴇɴᴅᴇʀ:

⟢ His Little Waterbender ⎸⎸ Prince Zuko x Reader › You, a Waterbender from the Northern Water Tribe, are determined to protect your home from the Fire Nation. But what happens when you’re opponent is none other than the first prince himself?

⟢ Eel Rolls ⎸⎸ Sokka x Reader › After betraying the Fire Nation, you, and extremely powerful firebender, seek refuge in Ba Sing Se. One day the Gaang stumbles into your path, and you find yourself giddy over a certain blue eyed boy in their midst.

ɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴ ɪᴍᴘᴀᴄᴛ:

⟢ Dandelion Wine ⎸⎸ Diluc Ragnvindr x Reader › You are finally returning home to Monstadt City after pursuing your dreams and exploring the world. When you get too tipsy one night and you can't defend yourself from an approaching mitachurl, who will save you then?

ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ:

⟢ Hate ⎸⎸ Sirius Black x Reader › You, a Ravenclaw, are battling some severe anxiety in the middle of the night, so you slip out and wander the halls of Hogwarts for some reprieve in your thoughts. Turns out though, encountering a professor in the middle of the night is the least of your worries.

⟢ Against the World ⎸⎸ Fred Weasley x Reader › There’s nothing wrong between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin dating, so what better place to tell everyone that than the Yule Ball?

ᴍʏ ʜᴇʀᴏ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴀ:

⟢ His Words, Not Yours ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › Katsuki’s parents invite the both of you over for dinner to meet you for the first time.

⟢ Goodnight ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › Katsuki finds out about your secret status as an underground pro hero.

⟢ Dumbass ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › You and your close friend Bakugou bond over a rom-com movie after having to share a room at a beach resort for a school trip.

⟢ Lipstick Stains ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › Bakugou thinks he’s falling in love all over again once he sees you in a traditional outfit.

⟢ Lockers ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › Bakugou's getting annoyed when you start receiving a bunch of love confessions out of nowhere

⟢ Wasabi ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › Needless to say, your boyfriend's pretty shocked when he finds out you have the same spice tolerance as him.

⟢ "Boy"friend ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › Katsuki gets hit by a gender bend quirk.

⟢ Teddy Bear ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › Your husband is invited to be on your favorite talk show - little do you know, the only thing he wants to talk about is you.

⟢ Tomorrow ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › When test anxiety and stress is too much, your boyfriend is there to help you out.

⟢ Number Four ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › Katsuki helps the rest of the world see just how awesome you are.

⟢ Daycare ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › You get your husband to finally pick up your kids from daycare

⟢ The Voice ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › After a fight spirals from your worries of Katsuki's safety, the voice in your head turns those worries into a nightmare.

⟢ Americano ⎸⎸ Bakugou Katsuki x Reader › You, the pretty barista at the local coffee store, decide to show some kindness to the young CEO Bakugou Katsuki, who's arrived for the first time without his girlfriend.

⟢ Matsuri ⎸⎸ Shota Aizawa x Reader (platonic) › You're scared your pro hero father won't support your dream to become a musician.

ʟᴇɢᴏ ɴɪɴᴊᴀɢᴏ:

⟢ After ⎸⎸ Cole Brookstone x Reader › You and the rest of the ninja settle down after everything ended.

⟢ Sundays ⎸⎸ Cole Brookstone x Reader › You, a baker, encounter the Master of Earth when he accidentally destroys your bakery.

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴʜᴇʀɪᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ:

⟢ His ⎸⎸ Riordanverse x Inheritance Games Oneshot › Grayson finds out he's adopted- but the news of his real parents is a bigger shock than he anticipated...

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ:

⟢ Clingy ⎸⎸ Gojo Satoru x Reader › Just some cute dating thoughts :)

⟢ Kiss Cam ⎸⎸ Gojo Satoru x Reader › Basketball star Gojo Satoru saves you from a disastrous kiss cam

[the-authoress-writes]

Up Where We Belong Part Three

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Up Where We Belong Masterlist

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Mentions of family member deaths, cancer, some to-be-expected cursing, age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: This was a pain to finish—you know the feeling when you know what you have to do, but you don’t know how to do it?

(Insert Ben Solo/Kylo Ren/Adam Driver gif here)

Yeah, that was this.

So many parts of this were so stubborn, even when I knew what the next story beat was; combine that with the inner critic being a bitch and the imposter syndrome impostoring, this was a labor of love.

Obviously, I pushed through, and here we have the final chapter of “Up Where We Belong”, which I am very proud of.

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs)

I can’t stop, apparently.

So here we go!

Even while her phone was telling her she was on the right path, she briefly wondered if she was, in fact, lost.

It couldn’t be more obvious that she was in the middle of nowhere, lonely desert stretching out before her for miles and miles, with nary another car in sight, much less a building that could conceivably be a hangar.

It comforted her to see a blue Bronco pass her by at a brisk pace as she continued down the route indicated by her phone, having not seen another car for the past fifteen or so minutes.

She eventually turned when her phone instructed her, the hills along the road she’d been driving next to giving way to an enormous desert plain, and the slightly heat-distorted sight of a building in the distance, probably a mile off.

A smile crossed her face, that had to be it.

As she drew closer, the nerves she’d been tamping down started to bubble up again, and she cursed herself. “Get a grip, woman, you’re here to review a scene, not to go on a date.”

Despite that, the fact that she’d spent nearly half an hour planning what she’d wear today felt like a Freudian slip—a loose orange tunic with small blue embroidered flowers on the hem and sleeves, dark wash skinny jeans and brown ankle boots—eventually deeming it not too much, but not like she didn’t care.

As she got closer, the building became more impressive, despite its rather homely outward appearance—from the white-painted wood panels worn down to their natural color here and there, the fading “United States Navy” emblazoned at the top, to the faint, sun-bleached squadron insignia on the open bay doors—it just felt beautiful in a wild way.

She parked about several yards away from the hangar doors and shut off the engine. “Okay, what’s going to happen will happen,” she muttered, “you’re going to survive it hook or by crook.

And besides, you don’t even know if he’s married or in a relationship.”

And with that rousing Crispin Crispianish speech, she picked up her messenger bag, slinging it onto her shoulder as she got out of the car.

The desert heat and silence washed over her as she moved towards the doors, calling out, “Hello?”

“In here,” came the reply.

She stepped inside the hangar, the shift to relative darkness briefly obscuring her vision, causing her to blink as her eyes adjusted, to see Pete standing by Bianca, looking somehow even better than she remembered, like something out of a movie.

His gaze was fixed intently on her, the slightest smile on his face, and she couldn’t help but match his expression, a “Hey there, sailor,” thoughtlessly slipping from her lips, which she immediately mentally kicked herself for saying; “Damn it, woman, how awkward can you be?” flashed through her mind like a neon sign.

Thankfully, he only brightly replied, “Hey, glad you could make it.”

Her smile widened. “Not going to miss it—for all I know, this is a one-time opportunity,” she truthfully replied, determined to make the most of this opportunity in regard to her novel—other… hypothetical motivations notwithstanding.

He shrugged, eyes sparkling, his movie star smile as devastating as a whole volume of honeyed poetry. “Who said it was?”

She chuckled, wrenching her gaze away from him before she said or did something stupid, settling for the sting of her teeth on her lip to knock her back to her senses.

Her eyes flit about the hangar, eventually landing on Bianca, the frontispiece of the whole room. “Great place you’ve got here, must’ve been hard to get, though, with it being Navy land.”

“Not that hard when you’ve got friends in high places,” he replied.

The sentence itself was vaguely humorous, something wry, an inside joke, but there was a weight to his tone, like the joke had lost its humor, and instead turned into something to grieve.

She tilted her head slightly, another enigma comprising Pete “Maverick” Mitchell revealing itself.

But before she could think too much, he broke the sudden silence. “Anyway, uh,” he clapped his hands, “you had a scene that needs checking?”

She blinked and raised the leather messenger bag on her shoulder. “I have my laptop right here.”

He gestured grandly to his couch, and as they moved towards it, she surreptitiously wiped her hands on her thighs, perspiration disappearing in the dark wash of her jeans, then busied herself with opening her laptop, finger fumbling on the start screen as she felt him settle in the seat next to her—realistically, she knew he’d likely sit next to her, but just because one knew something didn’t prepare one for experiencing it.

Again, the blinking cursor on her MacBook’s screen seemed to cackle at her, but she ignored it in favor of typing in her password, opening the laptop to the dreaded dogfight scene. “Here it is in all its misery,” she half-joked.

“May I?” he gestured to the device.

“Go ahead,” she sighed.

Pete picked up the device, leaning back with it in his lap, eyes darting about the screen, mouth moving slightly as he read, and in a matter of moments, his hands came up, mimicking the movements she’d written, while his face alternately made skeptical, approving, and a few amused expressions.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she plaintively asked, bracing for the worst, when he carefully placed the MacBook on his coffee table what seemed like an eternity later.

“It’s not bad at all,” he shook his head, an earnest expression lighting his features. “There are some maneuvers there that are only plausible for the P-51 in a rare set of conditions, and a… couple that I’d say are more in line with the capabilities of the F-35–or the 18 in my hands—but overall, it’s pretty damn good for a self-professed newbie to writing a dogfight scene.”

Her jaw fell open. “You’re kidding me.”

“Swear on my wings,” he laughed, the sound so musical, it was almost annoying how perfect and beautiful this man was.

“How would you fix it?”

He pointed, “Do you have a pen and notebook?”

“Never go anywhere without one.”

That beautiful smile of his spread his lips. “Well, let’s turn and burn, then.”

They worked for a couple or so hours, Pete writing out more plausible maneuvers to replace the impossible ones, demonstrating them with some models he’d run off to another corner of the hangar to retrieve, both of them mutually deciding to leave most of the only slightly implausible ones in, save for the ones where the bounds of reality were a little too stretched for the aerial conditions she’d already committed to, while she elaborated on what he’d written, fitting it into the novel’s style.

Eventually, she released a breath of victory, and proffered the laptop to Pete again, now actually proud of the dogfight scene. “You want to read it again?”

“Alright,” he easily agreed.

He read it again, the scene before her the same as over two hours ago, but this time, the skeptical and amused looks were replaced with a captivated and admiring expression.

“Well?” she prompted.

He blew out a breath. “It reads even better than I thought it would, you’re really good at this.”

She leaned forward, needing to be sure she hadn’t imagined him saying that. “It’s good?”

Pete leaned forward, into her personal space, matching her, as he fervently said, “It’s amazing.”

Her breath caught as the moment stretched taut around them, the two of them close enough for her to see the light reflecting off the peridot and aquamarine flecks in the brilliant jade of his eyes.

She looked around the hangar again at his earnest gaze, the itch to do something stupid scratching at her skin once more—she had a feeling that that would be a pattern for her with Pete Mitchell. “So, tell me, what exactly is it you do for the Navy, Captain Mitchell?”

He froze minutely at the end of her sentence, swallowing thickly as he processed the question.

“If you’ll have to kill me, there’s no need to tell me,” she joked, as she literally saw his brain reboot.

He blinked and chuckled softly, coming back to himself. “No, no, nothing as secretive as all that; I’m an instructor at TOPGUN—basically, I teach the Navy’s best aviators how to be better.

That’s why I talked about students during our phone call.”

“We’ll have to compare notes sometime to see who got it worse��I used to be a high school English teacher.”

Pete winced. “Ooh, teenagers, I don’t envy you.

But imagine taking hotshot twenty-somethings who fly multi-million dollar weapons as a career, who think they’re the best and know everything, shoving them into one room, and having to show them quite vividly that they don’t know everything.”

She gave her own wince. “Ooh.

But come on, you can’t have it that bad—especially if you fly an F-18 anything like how you flew Bianca at Apple Valley.

You’re telling me they’d still act up after getting so thoroughly schooled?”

He tilted his head from side to side, amused. “You’d be surprised, but uh… well, let’s just say that most of the “old man” comments typically tend to lose their bite by the end of the first hop.”

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back, just imagining the reactions of those hotshot kids. “As they should—I’d pay to see their reactions, come to think of it.”

She looked back at him to see his gaze was intently focused on her, but it didn’t send a shiver down her spine—at least not in the unsettling way it usually did when men stared at her. “Maybe my next class cycle, you’d like to come down to North Island, sit in the control tower, listen in on the first hop or two,” he said.

“An opportunity to see an experienced naval aviator in his element; I must say that’s an appealing offer.”

“You just let me know if you want to take me up on it.”

It was sheer instinct to say, “You know, I just might.”

Lowly, he replied, “I’d like that.”

The honestly there was breathtaking.

A glance out the bay doors showed that the sun was starting to hang low in the sky, casting a yellow-orange glow on everything, and caution nipped at her heels. “It’s kind of getting late, and I don’t want to bother you into the evening, I should go.”

Pete’s face fell ever so slightly. “You’re no bother, but I understand if you need to go.”

The slight drop of his features felt like a fall from a high precipice, sinking like a stone in her stomach. “Thank you so much again for your help, I really can’t thank you enough for everything,” she reassured.

“It’s no problem,” he said, almost resignedly.

She felt an intense yearning in her soul to strip that lonely note from his voice, to lift the sadness from him which came in like a squall, so she said the first thing that came to mind, her heretofore carefully-maintained caution getting unceremoniously kicked to the curb. “Uh, this might be stupid, and I’m so sorry if I’m being a nuisance, so feel free to tell me off, but… would you mind if I called you again?

Honestly—I, I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this in much detail with, and—and I’d love to talk with someone who understands the perspective my granduncle might’ve had.”

To her happiness, he brightened. “Not at all, I’d li—it’d be ni—” he sighed, a little wry smile playing on his lips, “feel free to call.”

She resisted the urge to giggle at his fumbling for words. “Okay, I’ll do that.

Thank you.

I promise not to call at like, 2:00 in the morning, when you’re asleep.”

He laughed, but pulled a face that had her mentally frowning as they both stood; however, she didn’t mention it, and instead gathered her things before Pete escorted her to her car, opening the door for her. “I’ll uh, expect your call?”

If the former sadness in his tone tugged at her heart, the thinly veiled hope now there positively wrenched it, and caution was nowhere to be seen. “It might come sooner than you think.”

The boyish, excited expression on his face was enough to make her heart skip a beat. “I look forward to it.”

By the time she reached home, while eating some ramen on her couch for dinner, she found herself picking up her phone and going to Pete’s message thread.

She typed and retyped her message again and again, debating whether or not to send anything at all, but eventually settled on “Just thought I’d let you know that I survived the drive home to bug you another day 🤣”, and sent it off before she could think too much.

Her finger was on the verge of clicking her phone off, but then she caught sight of the typing bubble, and she absentmindedly chewed her lip as she waited for his reply.

Eventually, after about a minute of the typing bubble popping up and disappearing, a message finally came in. “I had every confidence that you would. 😉”

She leaned back, setting into her cushions as she figured out her next message.

The week passed by, and she didn’t pass a day without messaging Pete at least once—he was so easy to talk to about pretty much everything, and it was so comfortable, to just pick up her phone and ask a question or say something non sequitur, his reply coming within the hour, if not within the next ten minutes, starting a conversation by text or a subsequent call, either of which could last hours.

However, this had a drawback.

It meant she didn’t work on the novel nearly as much as she should, and she eventually found herself staring again at her cruel, blinking cursor as her mind stubbornly remained blank.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as her first block, or the block regarding the dogfight scene, but she was starting to get a little frustrated.

Deciding to take a little break from blinking at her laptop’s screen, she traded it for her phone, open, as usual, to Pete’s message thread. “Feeling a little frustrated right now…” she shot off.

Forty-five minutes or so later, she got his reply. “Sorry to hear that.

You want to talk?”

“You free?”

A beat later, her phone rang. “So—frustrated, huh?”

Just hearing his voice had some of the frustration draining from her. “Yes.

It’s absolutely infuriating; I know what happens next, it just doesn’t want to—” she gestured sharply even though he wouldn’t see it, “you know?”

He hummed, “I know the feeling, the same thing happened to me a couple of times when I was writing my paper for my Master’s.”

“You have a Master’s.” she restated, shocked.

“Two, actually—Aerospace Engineering and Physics.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that she simply blinked for several seconds, impressed. “Another layer to Pete Mitchell,” she said, once she found words again.

“Like an onion.”

His joke made her snort while he continued, “I’ll let you in on a little secret—you’d be surprised how many naval aviators are actually nerds.

Don’t let the flight suits and Ray-Bans fool you.”

She laughed, but soon grew serious. “Oh God, Pete, I don’t know what to do—I mean, the last time I productively wrote anything was last week, at your hangar.”

There was a long pause, so much so that she thought the call had dropped, but when she looked at her screen, the line was still connected. “Pete?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” He sounded tentative. “Uh, if, if you wanted, you could—could come down to the hangar this weekend—you never know, being where you were last productive might shake something loose.”

“Sure, I’d love to—I mean—anything to make any progress, and—and the company’s pretty good too.”

She tried not to sound too eager to see him again, but she knew she probably failed at that.

“…Is there anything I can do to turn that ‘pretty good’ to good?” the now-familiar smile could be heard in his voice.

“We’ll see what happens this weekend, Captain.”

This time, when she stepped into the hangar, Pete was kneeling next to one of his numerous motorcycles, hands buried somewhere in its engine, dressed again in a white t-shirt and jeans. “You know, I’m starting to think you live in a white t-shirt and jeans,” she joked, though it was undeniable how good he looked in them.

He looked up, a warm chuckle escaping him, “That’s not true; once in a blue moon, the shirt’s black, and you’re forgetting my flight suit.”

She grinned, “Oh, we have a comedian here, yet another layer!”

“I’ll be here all weekend,” he bowed and swept his arm out to the side before standing and wiping his hands on a nearby rag. “You’re welcome to make yourself comfortable in the living area, can I get you any coffee or anything?”

“Uh, maybe a coffee?”

“Sure thing; how do you take it?”

“Two teaspoons of sugar, splash of cream if you have it.”

With a nod, he strode to the trailer further in the hangar, and soon emerged from the silver Airstream, steaming cup in hand, which he set on the small table beside the couch, where she had settled. “Just ignore me and do what you have to do.”

“Thank you for letting me intrude on your space.”

“No problem, you’re a very welcome change from my usual routine and company.”

She placed a hand on her heart, “Gee, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

A mischievous light entered those beautiful eyes of his, and he leaned down, placing a hand on the back of the couch, making her crane her head up to look at him. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

She swallowed thickly, and he glanced down, tracking the movement, but her “Is that so, Captain?” had his eyes meeting hers in a flash.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s so.” The slight rasp in his voice could have been a trick of her imagination, but before she could think about it, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll let you get to work.

Like I said, just ignore me,” he said, tone light once more.

She wasn’t sure if ignoring him was completely possible, but she replied, “I’ll call you if I need your opinion on anything.”

He threw her an insouciant salute, before heading off into the depths of his hangar.

The blinking cursor of her laptop was just as evil as it always was, but it didn’t seem so daunting here, so she buckled down, beginning to shave out some progress with the soft sounds of tools in the background—it wasn’t as much as she’d like, but anything was better than what she’d been doing, or rather, not been doing the last few days.

After an hour of sitting and writing, she stretched and stood, looking for Pete, curious as to what he was up to.

“Pete?” she called out.

“I’m back here!”

She followed the sound of his voice to a workbench near a sink in the recesses of the hangar; he was looking through a jar of screws, placing the contents into several smaller jars. “You make any progress with the writing?”

“Mm-hmm—not as much as I’d like, but it’s something; I just wanted to stand and stretch for a bit, take a little break from my screen.

What are you doing?”

“I’m working on some upgrades to one of my bikes, but I, uh, got a little sidetracked and I am currently sorting my screw collection,” he sheepishly said.

“Ah,” she nodded, “I know the feeling, the side quest that you absolutely have to complete before you can do anything else.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “it’s crazy, isn’t it?”

She laughed, a frown soon creasing her brow as she happened to look off to the side.

Involuntarily, she stepped closer to the photo-covered cork board on the wall, gaze fixed on a photo of a young, flight suit-clad Pete, helmet in hand, standing in front of a jet, a tall, familiar-looking man next to him.

The other man was the spitting image of Pete’s son, the only difference perhaps being perhaps ever-so-slightly lighter and straighter hair.

“Bradley looks exactly like him, doesn’t he?” Pete’s voice intruded on her confusion.

She looked to her left to see him standing beside her, an old grief shining in his eyes.

“Yes, he does,” she breathed carefully, knowing somehow that she was in different waters. “Who was he?”

“Nick Bradshaw—Goose—my backseater, back in the eighties, when I flew F-14s.

My brother in all but blood… Bradley’s father.”

The story he proceeded to tell was tragic and heartbreaking; she didn’t even have to see the muted grief in his eyes as he spoke to imagine the anguish he must have endured that day, having to hold Nick’s lifeless body in his arms for what undoubtedly felt like an eternity.

“I became Bradley’s legal guardian after his mother died of cancer, and… while there were a lot of rough years where we didn’t talk to each other, we made up late last year; came out stronger for it, I think.”

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” she breathed.

He smiled ruefully. “Wasn’t all bad, though; got some pretty good brothers out of all that, though I can’t say they’re all still here.”

The dots connected in her head. “The friends in high places?”

He nodded sadly. “My best friend—he was my wingman for decades until he became an Admiral, ended up the highest ranking one this side of the country, in fact.

He died shortly before Bradley and I made up; cancer.”

She didn’t know what possessed her, but she reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together.

His breath hitched, and he looked down at their linked hands, before turning glassy eyes to her.

She was caught in that piercing gaze, which seemed to look right into her soul, and something told her that she was incredibly lucky to be seeing this vulnerability.

The weight of that was almost enough to bring her to her knees, but she pushed that aside in favor trying to ease the sadness in his eyes. “Cancer really fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

He burst into a watery laugh. “Yes, it fucking does.”

She laughed along with him, squeezing his hand, making the callouses on his palm press against the soft skin of hers. “You want some help with your screw sorting?”

He sniffled, chuckling, “I feel like you’re using me as a distraction.”

“Yes, I absolutely am; are you complaining?”

Pete looked down at the floor, shaking his head with a soft smile. “Not at all, but I’m giving you five minutes before I make you write again, I’m not about to be blamed for any lack of progress.”

True to his word, after the five minutes were up, he shuffled her off to the couch, and she was glad that he wasn’t enabling her procrastination, thankfully able to make a fair bit of progress from there.

Some time later, while in the middle of spell checking what she’d written, she looked up to see Pete place a fresh cup of coffee next to her before sitting in a chair opposite her, picking up a small stack of paperwork and a pen from the coffee table. “Just pretend I’m not here,” he whispered.

For a while, they worked together in silence, as the California sun set, but soon, curiosity began dogging her thoughts. “Doesn’t your wife mind that you’re here late?” she asked.

His gaze almost audibly snapped to hers, his jaw working as he seemed to carefully consider his answer. “…I’m not married.”

Her traitorous heart skipped a beat. “Girlfriend?”

“Don’t have one of those either,” he casually replied. “How about you?

Anyone waiting for you back in San Bernardino?”

She took a deep breath. “Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Moscovitz.

She gets worried when I don’t come home before ten.”

A faint smile crossed his lips. “Good neighbors are hard to come by.”

“That they are.”

They worked in silence for another half hour before she stood and stretched; it was beginning to get dark, and while she was a little more confident driving the desert roads, she wanted to hit the highway before the sun fully set.

“Going now?” Pete asked.

“I want to hit the highway before it gets really dark.”

He smiled ruefully, “I understand, we got to get you back safe, I don’t want Mrs. Moscovitz to kick my ass.”

“And she could, believe me,” she laughed, gathering her things, and exactly like last time, Pete escorted her to her car, opening the door for her.

It was when she turned to face him that a thought body-slammed her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve been writing a lot here, and I’ve thought of some of the best moments here, actually.

Um… I guess what I’m trying to ask is… would you mind if we made this—me coming over to write—a regular thing?”

He blinked, seemingly taken aback.

“If I’ve overstepped, please pretend I never—”

“I’m here every weekend, from Friday night until Sunday morning,” he interrupted.

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, it’s a yes.”

“Okay,” she breathed, grinning. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

He matched her grin, “I look forward to it.”

Over the next three months, she made regular weekend visits to the hangar, the two of them learning each other, slowly growing closer as she told him about her life growing up in a family of pilots, her years as a teacher, leaving more and more of her heart behind in the desert each time.

Her heart panged remembering the day he told her why the P-51 was named Bianca.

“Uh, __?

I, er, kind of need some help,” Pete called.

Immediately rising from the couch, she walked over to where he was standing next to Bianca, hands deep in her engine. “What do you need?”

“Could you hand me that wrench there that’s out on the cart?”

After handing it off, a few turns of the wrench later, he stepped back, admiring the old girl while wiping his hands with a rag. “There we go, sweetheart, that’s more like it.”

“You spoil her, you know?” she shook her head.

“How can I not spoil her—look at her!” he replied, with a mock-affronted expression.

“Yeah, she is gorgeous, isn’t she?” she said, turning to look at the marvel of engineering Bianca was.

“She is,” he murmured, and something in his tone made her look back at him, only to see he also had turned to look at Bianca.

“Why’d you name her Bianca?” she asked, wanting to draw out the conversation before he would undoubtedly shoo her back to writing.

He sighed wistfully, “I named her after my mother.

Her name was Bianca Rivelli; Mitchell after she married my dad, of course.

She was from South Philadelphia—Little Italy in that part of town—and she met my dad when she was visiting friends in New York City during Fleet Week; it was love at first sight, she always said.” He hesitated, and a pit sank in her stomach. “She uh, passed from a heart attack when I was seven, but I know that it was heartbreak that really took her, after my dad was shot down and killed in Vietnam and branded a traitor, all because he died during an off-the-books mission.

She tried so hard to hang on for me, I know, and I don’t blame her for leaving—not anymore, not for decades—and when I got the P-51, I wanted to commemorate her somehow.

So I named her Bianca.”

She didn’t even think twice before lunging and pulling Pete into a hug.

He stood stiffly for a moment, and she was just about to pull away, but then he positively sank into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her.

“You’ve suffered so much pain, and it only made you kind,” she sniffled after a long while.

“I can still be an asshole sometimes, you know?” he said, voice wavering.

“Maybe, but you’re still unbelievably kind.”

Now, as she was once again driving to the hangar, trepidation settled at the forefront of her mind; she was nearing the end of the novel, and in fact, she was sure she’d finish it today; but what would happen without a reason to visit Pete?

This was the twenty-first century, a woman had the right to tell a man if she was interested in him, but if he didn’t feel the same, she might just torpedo the best friendship she’d had in a long time; she loved to talk to him, spending time with him was the easiest thing in the world, and not having that anymore seemed incomprehensible.

The hangar drew closer and closer, but she was getting more and more confused, and so decided to engage in the oldest, most revered of writerly traditions: procrastination.

She’d just hope that she’d find the opportunity, the thoughts, and more importantly, the courage, to say something to him.

Fear and nervousness dominated her emotions as she walked into the quiet hangar—much too quiet for a space inhabited by someone like Pete Mitchell.

“Pete?”

“You’re right on time,” he breezily said, coming out of the Airstream, cup of coffee in hand, “something told me to make your coffee already, and here you are!”

“Seems like you’re getting ESP,” she lightly replied, trying to belie the mess of emotions she was feeling.

“I don’t know about all that—maybe just for you,” he softly laughed, his eyes endearingly crinkling at the corners like they always did when he was genuinely happy.

And if that didn’t make her heart absolutely melt—truly, how this man was not married or in a relationship at this point, she didn’t know.

She settled into what she had dared to start thinking of as her “spot” on the couch, the coffee cup he was holding clinking onto the table beside her the next second.

“I’ll let you get to it,” he nodded, squirreling off to a corner of the hangar before she could get a word in edgewise.

With nothing else for it, she reluctantly began writing, and in a sick twist of fate, the words came easily, when she most wanted them not to come, in hopes of drawing this status quo out for just one more week.

One more week of driving to this lonely desert hangar, one more week of seeing those ubiquitous white t-shirts and Levi’s, one more week of hearing his voice, seeing his smile when he caught sight of her.

But fate was cold and cruel, and after roughly two hours, the draft was finished.

Tears welled in her eyes, but for completely different reasons than she would have said when she first began rewriting her Uncle Joe’s story.

“Hey, what’s wrong?

What happened?”

She looked up into Pete’s warm, concerned gaze, and didn’t that just make things worse? “I—I finished the draft.

It’s done,” she croaked.

“Hey, congratulations!

That’s great!” he encouraged, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah… yeah, it is.

I… I can’t believe it’s over… and I’m really feeling sad right now,” she numbly breathed, deciding for a little honesty.

He moved to sit beside her, his leg pressed against hers, and her breath caught at the proximity.

“Well, that’s understandable, you’ve devoted a lot of time to this, and it’s something very important to you,” he softly replied. “But hey, I have every confidence that this is going to be a bestseller—every publisher is going to want you, and won’t that make everything you went through to get to this point worth it?”

His words made her remember her PopPop, when he encouraged her to write about Uncle Joe and Céline, shortly before he died, and it made her smile despite herself. “It will.”

“That’s the spirit.” He reached up, cupping her cheek, thumb delicately brushing away a tear she didn’t even know had fallen, and almost subconsciously, she leaned into his touch.

He seemed to swallow reflexively, eyes quickly darting down before he met her gaze again and lowered his hand from her cheek, leaving her feeling bereft. “Uh, since it’s not every day one finishes a first draft and all,” Pete gestured, “how—how would you feel about taking a little celebratory flight?”

Her eyes widened. “In—in the—in Bianca?”

A smile she would venture to call sad inexplicably crossed his face. “Mm-hmm.”

“I’d love that.”

What better way to celebrate finishing her granduncle’s story than a flight in the same plane he flew?

At the very least, if she crashed and burned her friendship with Pete because she happened to find some heretofore unknown reservoir of courage, she’d have something shining and beautiful to remember him by.

It felt absolutely surreal to sit in Bianca’s backseat, and it didn’t feel any less surreal as they cruised through the air.

Sitting up here, over two thousand feet above the ground, while she was happy with the direction she’d taken in her life, she felt she now truly understood why the better part of her family had dedicated themselves to the skies.

It was breathtaking and awe inspiring; with the mountainous desert vista out below, the clear blue sky above, she thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

To get to see this every day, and to have the controls of a marvel of engineering beneath your hands as a pilot… the feeling was surely beyond exhilarating.

“How you doing back there?” Pete asked, voice tinny through the headphones.

“Just perfect—I can really understand now why you and my family do this for a living, it’s amazing up here.”

“I know, right?

There’s nothing like it,” he breathed, and she could almost feel the joy in his voice.

They flew on in easy silence for a while before he broke it again. “So, I have a question for you; we can keep flying nice and easy like this until you want to land or until we have to, or… we can have some fun—nothing like what I did at Apple Valley, but uh, it’ll definitely be a little bit more exciting than nice and easy.”

As much as she wanted to immediately say yes, she was still a little apprehensive. “You promise not to make me throw up?”

“Swear on my wings,” he solemnly promised, “and if you feel uncomfortable during anything, all you have to do is let me know, and I’ll immediately level off.”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “…Alright, go for it.”

“Okay, here we go!” Gently, he brought Bianca into a sweeping banked descent, and from there, while she was sure it was nothing for Pete, who’d done far more daring things in Bianca, and surely in his career as a naval aviator, this was the most thrilling thing she’d ever experienced in her life.

Before she knew it, Pete said, “We’ll have to land in fifteen minutes, so I’ll bring us back around, okay?”

Her heart sank. “So soon?”

He laughed, “We’ve been up here for almost an hour and a half.”

It felt like they just got up here. “What?!”

“Time flies when you’re having fun!”

“You’re corny, Pete Mitchell,” she chuckled.

“Guilty as charged!”

But the joyful mood didn’t last long—soon, the hangar and runway were in sight, and sadness suddenly overwhelmed her; she breathed mournfully, “How can I ever thank you for everything?”

“No need to thank me,” he replied, seemingly overtaken by the same sadness she was, though it didn’t have any bearing on how smoothly he brought Bianca onto the tarmac, and how he brought her back into the hangar.

The leaden pit in her heart and stomach seemed to grow even heavier; she’d been waiting the whole day for the time and courage to tell him how she felt, but she wasn’t able to find a moment or the courage to speak, and now her chances were slipping away, the sudden sound of silence as the engine cut and the canopy slid back feeling like the first handful of earth dropped on a casket.

“You need any help?” Pete’s voice intruded on her thoughts.

“No, I got it.” It wasn’t completely the truth, but anything to draw out the moments she had left.

With a nod, Pete eased himself up out of the cockpit and slid down the wing.

Finally, she was able to unclip herself from her harness and stand up, easing herself onto the wing—

“Ahhh!” she yelped, having lost her foothold on the wing, abruptly sliding down the warm metal, and then—

She suddenly stopped, toes just touching the ground, pressed against a firm chest, her hands fisting in white cotton, warm arms wrapped around her waist.

It was almost a replay of the day she met Pete, and it felt like fate was giving her one final chance.

She looked up into his eyes, knowing that if she didn’t say anything now, she never would. “Pete, I—”

The words died in her throat as he moved his hand to cup her cheek like he had two hours ago, and just like two hours ago, she leaned into the warmth of his touch, her breath hitching as she felt the gentleness with which his rough, calloused palm caressed her cheek.

He scanned her face, searching for something, and seemingly finding it, his viridescent gaze lighted on her lips, which had her heart stuttering in her chest and the air shuddering from her lungs.

“Don’t think, just do,” he muttered, leaning in, and like lightning, her mind sharpened; she leaned forward, pulling him the minuscule distance to her with a hand on his neck.

Suddenly, she found herself taking flight in a completely different way from five minutes ago.

Pete kissed her like he flew; with complete dedication, and like this was the last moment of pure, unrivaled, unfettered joy he’d ever have again, and her knees went weak, an entirely different thrill rushing through her, as she felt him push her up against Bianca’s fuselage.

She was breathless, she was taking the first breath of air she’d ever had—it was fire, it was light, it was incandescent.

She only realized the burn in her lungs when he drew back, both of them gasping for breath.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed, voice deep and rough, eyes dark.

An actual whimper fell from her lips, and she replied, “Holy shit, I don’t care if it’s done, that’s definitely going in the book.”

He huffed a low chuckle, that devastating smirk on his face. “In that case, you want a little more inspiration?”

“Oh hell, yes,” she breathed, and pulled him back into her.

The End

Previous Part

I very much had an inner debate as to whether the ending of this story was too similar to that of TG:M, but after a lot of soul searching, I decided that this was the only conceivable way to end this.

It starts with the P-51, and it ends with her.

You could call her Mav’s wingwoman, I suppose.

The Hangar, as I learned from an interview I will not be able to dig up from my YouTube history, is actually owned by Tom himself.

He said it in the aforementioned interview, and I honestly should have seen it coming.

The hangar was even featured in the background of the iconic video where Tom took James Corden flying in the P-51, and I am somewhat ashamed to say that I recognized it from shots where you only saw the corner of the building.

Yeah, do me a favor and please don’t bring that up.

“Crispin Crispianish” is a reference to the St. Crispin’s Day speech from Shakespeare’s “Henry V”, from which the title of the WWII book and series “Band of Brothers” is taken.

“Turn and burn” is a colloquial aviation saying which describes being cleared to takeoff from the runway generally without having to hold short of it for any duration of time, which leads to the aircraft immediately turning onto the runway from the taxiway shortly before the pilots push the engine thrust levers to Take Off/Go Around, which produces maximum thrust, and presto change-o, you have a generally expedited takeoff.

“You’d be surprised,” is absolutely a reference to Bradley almost punching Jake’s lights out in TG:M.

Yes, I am aware of the amount of art imitating life here; my writer and myself were very much twinning in our frustration with what we were writing.

You can pry ADHD/Neurodivergent/Genius IQ Mav from my cold, dead hands.

Here we have the answer to why the P-51 is named “Bianca” in my story.

I headcanon Mav has Italian heritage, and I thought this would be a nice way to put it in here.

I also made his mom from Philadelphia, because there’s a Top Gun ‘86 costume test shot of Tom wearing an Eagles sweatshirt, and as a Philly-adjacent girl, I had to somehow reference that even obliquely.

“You’ve suffered so much pain, and it only made you kind,” is an adaptation of a line from “Doctor Who”, which I thought perfectly describes Mav.

Taglist

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If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[talesofesther]

deep devotion

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Over time you came to realize more and more that sometimes Wednesday wears her words like armor. They become almost futile when you learn she speaks through actions.

Requested by anons: Here and here.

A/N: I combined two requests in this story, and I hope you guys like it, even if I feel like I deviated from them a bit. I'm not completely happy with how this story turned out, but it is what it is. Also FYI, there are a few descriptions of blood ahead, and flashbacks are in italics.

Masterlist

There was something morbid about the way the deep red color of blood mixed with the polished wood floor. It trickled down Wednesday's chin in steady droplets, splashing beside her boots in what would be an annoying stain to clean.

At least in that, the raven-haired girl could take some solace. Losing to Bianca had that effect, the one that makes you feel all bad kinds of miserable and enraged. Today especially, because it was one of those few times in which Wednesday allowed her feelings to dictate her actions.

If her labored breathing and the white-knuckled grip she had on her blade were anything to go by, she was fuming with rage. If you were here, you'd notice — this is where Wednesday's mind first goes to and she curses herself for it — but others don't, her face was kept impassive as the blade loudly clanked on the floor, as she stomped the ground with purpose, reaching the door of the fencing class quickly otherwise she'd be breaking one of the significant rules of the school. No killing your classmates.

Wednesday thought she heard the teacher calling, something about going to the infirmary; but the door had already slammed shut behind her, muffling his voice, and when he managed to reach it, she was nowhere to be seen.

She didn't really register where she was going. She just kept walking. The cold wind hit her cheeks when she stepped outside, it was comforting, she felt it on the damp and dried blood now stuck to her alabaster skin.

It was by luck, or maybe misfortune, that her path crossed with yours.

Wednesday saw you before you saw her, the pages of a book holding all of your attention as you slowly walked the stone path outside, between the lunch tables and the trees. Wednesday stopped in her tracks, waiting for the inevitable. She could taste the metallic flavor of blood on the corner of her lip, feel the sting of the recent cut and it kept her grounded.

There was something about you, something about the way the few lonely rays of sun on this cloudy day chose to shine upon the bouncing of your hair. You were all delicacy and warmth as you traced the lines on paper. While Wednesday was nothing short of a midnight moon covered by rain clouds.

That girlfriend of yours is too good for you anyways.

Maybe Bianca wasn't too far off.

"Wednesday!"

Your voice clashed with her thoughts, and before she knew it, you were shoving the book into your bag and had your hands reaching out for her.

Wednesday flinched at the sudden closeness, blinking a couple of times. The air is suddenly heavier, the clouds past the school walls are darkening quickly, it'll rain soon.

You gulped and dropped your hands, fingertips grazing the fabric over Wednesday's forearm. "What happened?" The worry in your voice was evident.

Wednesday didn't like the crease in your eyebrows or that she was the cause of it. She shook her head, strands of her hair — messy from the way she had forcefully taken her mask off earlier — getting stuck to her damp cheek, "nothing happened."

"So that just showed up there?" You deadpanned, eyes glued to her fresh wound, to the dark tone of the skin under her eyes.

"Nothing that requires you to fuss over me." Wednesday set her jaw, very much aware of you sneaking your fingers between hers. She'd never admit to liking it, but deep down she knew she didn't have to. You knew it already, you knew your way around her and it took having it, for Wednesday to understand how much she'd been wanting someone who took the time to understand her.

"I care about you," you spoke softly, somehow looking at her even softer. Raising your free hand, you pushed away the wisps of hair that had been caught in the drying blood. Your touch was all tender, as if she was fragile porcelain. Which was the furthest from the truth. Yet you did it anyway, following the same rhythm your bleeding heart set, pulsing with each beat for her. "There's a difference." You finished, and pulled her along with you.

The door to the infirmary appeared and you walked past it with no second glances, leading Wednesday to your room instead. Her hand gripped yours tighter after that.

You opened your dorm door for her and asked that she sat on your bed. She complied silently while you disappeared into the bathroom, the dark wood creaking under your steps.

Wednesday didn't say anything when you returned with a few damp gauzes and a bandaid. Or when you sat beside her, looking at her in a silent question before holding her jaw with one hand and cleaning the blood with the other; the white cloth became red, and then pink and then it didn't change at all as you cleaned every last bit from her skin, careful to not cause her any pain, eyebrows furrowed as you ever so slowly brushed her cheek.

The antiseptic stung bitterly, yet Wednesday couldn't look away from you even if she wanted to. Subconsciously, as if you were tugging at her heartstrings, she leaned into your touch, her lower lip met your palm when she relaxed. No one had the power to strip her down from her defenses as you did. It scared her, but she was addicted to the thrill of it.

You placed the purple bandaid right over the nasty cut on her cheek, and only then you asked again; "will you tell me what happened?"

Her dark eyes regarded you with caution before she averted her gaze, pulling her cheek away from your touch as it flushed pink. "Fencing class."

"Bianca?"

"She talks too much."

A beat passed in silence, the only sound being the howling wind outside your window preceding the storm. Over time you came to realize more and more that sometimes Wednesday wears her words like armor. They become almost futile when you learn she speaks through actions.

You picked up on it a few nights ago;

"Y/N if you don't turn that down I'll kick you out." Wednesday grumbled, before turning her attention back to her noisy typewriter.

You shared a glance with Enid — who sat beside you on her bed, biting her lip to contain a smile — promptly turning down the volume on your phone.

The night was a cold one, the glow of the half moon shining right outside the big round window cast bursts of color on Enid's side of the room and a soft white light on Wednesday's.

Time went by with you and Enid sharing a few laughs and Wednesday complaining about how you disturbed her peace. However, when Enid ended up sleeping on your shoulder and you squeezed yourself out of her bed to walk back to your dorm, Wednesday got up as well.

She quietly walked to her dark wooded wardrobe, opening its creaking doors to look for something inside. You followed, stopping right beside her to kiss her goodnight.

Wednesday paid you no mind, which made you frown. No matter what, there wasn't a day that came to its end without her lips settled on yours.

You reached out a hand to tug at her hoodie, but before you could, she was throwing a change of comfortable clothes into your face.

You messed up your hair as you pulled the fabric away to look at her. There was this glint in Wednesday's eyes, if you looked closely, you could see the shape of the moon on her irises. She pursed her lips in an almost smile, glancing at the clothes in your arms and then at you again.

Words weren't needed for you to understand, and your heart just about melted.

A few minutes after you exited the bathroom, now dressed comfortably in all black, you joined Wednesday in her bed. It was a tight fit and caused her body to be flush with yours — but you figured she didn't mind it much when she started playing with your hand under the covers.

Next morning you received just about twenty different pictures from Enid, most of them featuring you and Wednesday sleeping soundly, her head partly resting on your shoulder — though the last ones were all shaky, with a furious raven-haired girl reaching for the phone.

And today it's pretty evident that she's on edge, her eyebrows and lips hold a faint, permanent frown; her pupils are blown, yet miles away, as if she's here but her mind is trapped somewhere else.

"yeah, sometimes she does." There's more you want to say and Wednesday could sense it. You nagged on your lower lip as you gained the courage to do so. Her eyes followed the movement.

"Can I do something for you?"

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, her eyebrow twitched as if she was trying to solve a riddle. If you asked instead of just doing it, it was something you weren't sure she'd like. But you'd never given her a reason not to trust you.

She simply nodded, both hands resting on her lap, black nails tapping one another. Her eyes followed you as you moved to sit right behind her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off of you. When she couldn't see you anymore, she searched for something else to focus on, more specifically the grey clouds behind the tiny crack in your window.

When the tip of your fingers touched the end of one of her braids, Wednesday went as stiff as a corpse. She felt it, your touch barely there at first; careful, soft, as though testing tentative waters. Only when she melted the slightest bit toward you, that you started gently undoing the waves on her hair, strand by strand.

There was a lump on Wednesday's throat that she almost couldn't breathe over, goosebumps filled her skin at the same time her body felt too hot to the touch.

Her hair slowly fell in waves, a sea of dark over her shoulders and back as your fingers ran through it, untangling what was left of her braids. It was intimate, almost overwhelmingly so. Wednesday wasn't sure what you were getting at, but it felt a lot like a promise.

Once you were satisfied, you brushed aside her hair to lay your lips on her shoulder. Slowly as your top lip grazed the fabric of her jacket, you kissed her there.

Wednesday felt faint with the way you loved her. The splashes of rain hitting your window got blurred in her sight; she realized you just said to her those three words everyone cares so much about. And now she understands the weight of them.

Wednesday couldn't help but reach for your hand — the one that was gingerly playing with the ends of her curls — cold fingers wrapping around yours as she brought your knuckles to her own lips.

She said them back in the only way she knew how. And when your thumb traced the lines on her palm, she knew you understood.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan

[talesofesther]

tender as the rain

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: You find Wednesday walking alone in the rain.

A/N: If you ask me what this is, I'll be inclined to punch you, lovingly. Literally the result of my boredom and procrastination. Read at your own risk.

Masterlist

Puddles of mud and water splash around your feet. You're running, or more so walking really fast. You don't want to look desperate, even if you feel it.

The woods are awfully nightmarish with the pouring rain, big drops of water hitting the leaves create sounds that get you on edge. But Wednesday is nowhere to be seen and last you knew she was looking for some old abandoned meeting house in the woods.

She can take care of herself, you know it. However, it doesn't ease the incessant beating of your heart.

You find her following footprints that you were unknowingly walking over. She greets you with a scowl, hair clinging to her forehead and raindrops trickling down her chin.

It's a little awkward, your hands rise to touch her but you stop yourself midway. For a beat, you thought Wednesday seemed confused as to why you stopped, but the look is gone before you can fully register it.

"What are you doing?" You ask a little breathlessly, tasting the rain on your lips as you speak, subtly checking her over for injuries, "the statue dedication is happening soon, you should be getting ready and not… walking in the rain."

That was a good enough excuse, right?

"I'm alright," Wednesday reassures you first, and you mentally curse the way she can read you like an open book, "I was trying to learn more about Crackstone, and following a monster."

You sigh in relief, falling into step beside her as you start walking back to town. Only then do you open your umbrella, it won't do much now that you're already soaked, but it gets Wednesday walking closer to you.

"Without me? I'm hurt," you smirk, though not as confidently as you wanted to.

"Not my fault if you were preoccupied handing out fudges with Bianca," Wednesday huffs with a bite to her tone.

She refuses to look at you, choosing instead to focus on the immensity of the trees around her. You, on the other hand, follow the path of a rogue droplet of rain with your gaze; it drips from her hair and goes all the way to the corner of her lips. You can't help but notice her sullen eyes, the purplish lips, the trembling of her hands.

She's cold. She's been out in the rain much longer than you had.

"You could've said something, I would have come with you," you tell her quietly, feeling the rain soak through your sneakers.

"I didn't need you." Wednesday is still looking away when she mumbles it, so you don't catch the turmoil in her eyes; the fact she'd rather say that, than admit she would never willingly put you in danger.

You're used to the pain that comes with loving her, "yet I'm here anyway."

—

Weathervane's bathroom doesn't offer much in terms of helping with the wet clothes that cling to your body, but it would have to do.

Yours and Wednesday's coats are draped over one of the bathroom stalls, still dripping; while you do what you can to dry the rest of your clothes and your hair with paper towels.

Wednesday sits on the sink's counter, her hands clasped together on top of her lap. She's only in her white shirt, a few buttons undone; her hair is free of braids, cascading over her shoulders in black waves to dry faster.

It's unnerving how she still refuses to look at you.

This happens sometimes, you'll do something or say something that you can't exactly pinpoint and it'll get Wednesday distancing herself.

Casting a glance at her rigid figure, you bunch up a few paper towels, dampening the edge of it and moving closer to the raven-haired girl. It's only when she looks at the general direction of your face, that you speak; "may I?"

With her nod of consent, you stand between her legs and raise the damp paper to her eyes; she closes them before you even touch her cheek, you can feel her tensing under your touch. Her skin is still cold to the touch, but not as much as it was before you got out of the rain. You refrain from wrapping her body in a hug.

You're gentle with the way you clean the smudged eyeliner from below her eyes. You can feel her breathing fanning over your lips; unsteady, heavy.

Wednesday is gripping tight onto her skirt, and you don't think she realizes the way she starts to lean into your touch.

"Maybe you don't need me," you start in a hush, not sure where you're even going with this, "but you don't need to be alone, you can choose to have someone if you want."

You turn your attention to her hair next, separating one side into three strands and carefully placing one on top of another.

"Either way," you bite your tongue, wondering if you're digging your own grave, "you can tell me to go anytime, and I will."

At last, Wednesday's midnight eyes finally find yours. She looks at you for a long time.

You're close, so close you can count each of her freckles. It feels intimate. And you don't know Wednesday realizes it too. You don't know she's never had this with anyone; that it terrifies her.

She reaches out to you then; nimble, cold fingers tracing the edge of your jaw as if you'd crumble under her touch, "I can't ask that of you."

She tugs at the lapel of your shirt before you can ask why, pulling you to her until you have to brace yourself on the edge of the counter she's sitting on. You're warm on her, a warmth she's grown obsessed with — how foolish, to think she'd be able to escape the Addams family curse.

"As much I'd prefer otherwise," Wednesday pecks the corner of your lips, a kiss that's barely there at all. You feel her words on your skin, "I need you all the time."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes