#gunner seats

[copper-ice-cube]

Main D20 Seasons Ultimate Ranking: part 10

** see tags for more specifics

Bonus: which PC duo is your favourite?

(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part XI)

[freetheshit-outofyou]

My daughter and I went out camp scouting today, both developed and primitive. It was an outstanding day. Today's lesson was how to observe the Killdeer to see where their nest is while being cognizant of not disturbing their nest once found. When we were headed home the top 40 of 1983 was playing on XM, we had a good time talking about what I was going through as a 13yo in 1983 while building bridges of communication in her 13th trip around the sun. I love my parents, but we never talked, we might talk about the light easy stuff but we never talked about the hard, heavy shit. My Bride and I have worked very hard to make the lines of communication free flowing between all of us, it has paid off more than I can ever express. I love these little moments, as I told her, one day years and years from now for no particular reason today will pop in her had and she's smile.

[lesbianmasterchief]

causing the deaths of so so many marines. intentionally and unintentionally.

duality of man

[todays-xkcd]

Now that airlines have started adding wheel locks to their drink carts, less than half of flights have one accidentally fall out through the hole.

Typical Seating Chart [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

Typical Airliner Seating Chart [Labeled items of a plane from front to back:]

[Front of plane:] Cowcatcher

[Cockpit (2 seats):] Please only pick these seats if you're a pilot

[First Class section (22 seats):] Main stage Mosh pit Various fancy classes

[Wings (2 x 55 seats):] Some airplane companies waste this space

[Ends of wings (2 x 1 seat):] Lookout

[Propellers (2 x 1 seat):] Passenger has to pedal

[Middle of plane, just behind wings:] Hole for trash

[Left side of plane, behind wings (7 seats):] Sidecar

[Back of plane (24 seats):] Extra middle seats

[Just in front of tail (4 seats):] Bumper car seating

[Tail (1 seat):] Penthouse

[Hanging off of left side of tail (3 seats):] Extra legroom

[Tail (4 seats):] Tail gunners (Must protect plane from pursuers but earn extra miles)

[Separate, smaller plane to the right (14 seats):] Fighter escort

[enwoso]

A cute blurb of Lovie having the best time playing dolly’s with all the new youngsters on the team (Katie, Viv, Freya, Michelle) and having the best time

NEW FRIENDS — alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

it was pre-season and the team had been spending an evening together. a lot of the girls playing some sort of card game. it sometimes getting quite competitive at times.

but alessia was getting wary, you had been quite for a while. which wasn’t always a good sign as sometimes that would mean you were up to no good. not always but it was usually a good indication.

“had anyone seen lovie?” alessia asked as the round of cards had just finished the girls shaking their heads as the cards were thrown onto the table to be reshuffled before the next game.

“actually i seen her, she was dragging freya along to play whatever she was playing” lia said as she placed her cards back on the table. remembering seeing you pull freya and a couple of the young gunners along.

“oh good god knows what she’s doing then” alessia sighed as she began to stand up from her seat next to codi, “i’ll quickly go and check on her!”

alessia followed the hushed sound of your talking along with the voices of the young gunners voice and as she turned the corner she doesn’t know what she expected you to have roped the young girls into doing but you siting and playing dolly’s with the girls was definitely not top of the list.

she stood at the doorway and watched as you had a full story line going on with the young gunners; freya, viv, katie and michelle all with doll in their hand as they played along with your little imagination.

alessia soon clicked that the storyline you had was of that the dolls were the arsenal girls just with different names. a smile couldn’t help but creep on your mummy’s face before alessia fake coughed to make her presence known to the small group of girls.

“hi mummy!” you beamed as a small hello came from the young gunners too.

“i see you’ve made some new friends!” alessia raised an eyebrow as you nodded. alessia knew she was being a little exaggerate with that, of course you knew of the young gunners the group of them having been on the team that traveled to australia and they’d been in and around the first team for the past season, so of course you knew them.

this was just the first time she had seen any of them properly sitting down and interacting with you instead of a usual hello or little wave every time they seen you in and around the team.

“yes! we playing a game” you explained the game and just like alessia thought, you were playing your own little version of arsenal but with different names.

“this is you less!” viv held up a blonde barbie, “but her name is alyssa. tiny’s idea, all the names were” viv carried on as alessia laughed at the name choice.

“let’s hear them then!”

“this is leanne and you can probably guess who this is by the frown!” katie joked as she held up a barbie again with blonde hair and a bob with two longer bits at the front, one basically identical to leah’s.

another giggle came from alessia as she listened to each explanation, “i love it!”

“this is kacey and she’s loves yellow cards and just the colour yellow in general!” michelle laughed as she held up a brunette barbie dressed all in the colour yellow with a bit of green.

“this is betty and she loves dogs look she even had her own called milo” freya held up another barbie which had a little puppy dog accessorie, a knowing nod coming from alessia as she knew exactly who that was.

“and this is jones! and he tells everyone how to play football!” you held up a male barbie as alessia hummed as she listened a little more to your little fantasy world you’d created with the young gunners.

“well this sounds lovely and i won’t interrupt anymore!” alessia said as she tapped her knees ready to stand back up. “if you need me i’ll be out there with the girls” alessia smiled looking at you but more talking to the group of young gunners as she placed a light kiss to your cheek before leaving you to get back to your own little world with your new friends.

“what is she up to then?” beth asked curiously as alessia joined back with the group of girls she was originally playing cards with.

“oh she and the young gunners have made us in barbie form!” alessia explained as the girls’ faces turned to confusion but also intrigued.

“that’s so- wait, what?”

[onsomenewsht]

Helpless to the bass and faded light

About when she bribes you and you dance with her like a filled stadium isn't looking

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 she took my arm / I don't know how it happened / we took the floor and she said

You don’t like football.

It’s quite a boring game if you stop to think about it for a moment. Two dozen and counting people running around a ball trying to kick it into a huge net.

Not something you look forward to sit through for almost two hours.

Despite your father’s best efforts, you being his only kid and his only hope to pass down his passion, the sport never managed to interest you long enough to care.

You even found yourself in the stands of your dad’s favourite club’s home more times than you’re able to remember, going beyond yourself and cheering when the other people around you did.

The things you do to make your parents proud.

How you managed to have the English captain wrapped around your finger, regardless of your well-known dislike for her biggest passion and purpose in life, is still a mystery for your families and friends.

“Pretty please, just this one”

“Oh, shut up!”, you hit her arm and push her off you, both still naked.

You can’t believe your girlfriend is actually trying to bribe you with sex, not even waiting for you to fully recover before asking to go to the game.

“No, you ruined the mood”, you state as the blonde tries to kiss you again.

The huge grin of her beautiful face is quite dangerous, she can win you over so easily and you both know it.

Leah rises off the bed to retrieve a warm cloth from the bathroom and a clean shirt from the closet. You accept her attention, she’s always caring when it comes to you, but you’re pretty sure the extra effort has a not-so-subtle second purpose.

“You can’t buy me so easily, Williamson”

She can.

“It’s a really important game, my love”

“For who?”

“For me?”, she tries as she slots herself under your open arm, a grin hidden between your neck and the pillow.

“I barely bear you playing”

“You love watching me play”

“I love you, period”

Leah knows how much you think the sport is boring, going way out of your comfort zone just to cheer her. She feels immensely supported when she finds your big smile in the stands, wrapped in one of her jerseys.

It’s not that difficult for you to sit and admire your girlfriend in her element, focusing more on her movements and attitude than paying attention to the actual game.

What you find quite annoying is enduring Arsenal’s men’s team.

The defender’s fingers on your side are slowly soothing you in a compromising position, too relaxed and smitten to keep denying her anything. You know she doesn’t need much more to lure you into her trap and, unfortunately for you, she’s perfectly aware too.

When the blonde’s lips find the particularly sensitive spot on the base of your neck, you’re doomed.

~

You’re glad your father is already dead or you’d have killed him as you take your seat in the Emirates Stadium, surrounded by the Gunners’ colours. Your girlfriend’s name on your back could be the final nail.

The things you do to make your lover happy.

“You know I love you, right?”

“You better never forget this”, you quip back.

The English captain has been looking forward to this game for weeks now, you couldn’t have been able to turn her down in spite of it all.

She doesn’t need to know though, you didn’t accept to spend one of your date nights watching the North West London derby for free.

“Maybe you will enjoy it at the end”

Nice try, you will not.

“You know, my dad was a West Ham supporter”

“Could have been worse”, she smiles at you, reaching for your hand.

Talking about your father is getting easier as time finally moves forward and your grief keeps changing its shape. Compared to the abyssal black hole it felt like the first year and a half, its progress.

Leah didn’t meet him, crushing in your life a couple of months after his passing, but she managed to find a space in your heart that keeps growing despite all your fears.

They could have hit so well, bonding over their shared passion for the sport and their never-ending determination to make you happy.

You told her some stories about him, mostly memories to make your girlfriend understand how stubborn and passionate he was about the thing he cared about.

The one thing you all have in common.

“Yeah, he used to gift me a West Ham jersey every year on Bobby Moore’s birthday”

Leah’s laugh managed to overcome the buzzing atmosphere of the stadium, making you feel like she was the reason all the people around you were cheering. You sure think so.

“He sounds like an incredible father”

“Football obsession aside, he was good”

When you turn to look at her, the blonde’s eyes are already on you and the smile on her face is enough to warm your heart.

~

The first goal coming within five minutes has you quite engaged in what’s happening on the pitch, you even drag your girlfriend in a kiss as you both rise from your seats to celebrate.

Your commitment declined quite easily after that, more entertained by Leah’s reactions than the actual game. You nod in amusement every time she tries to talk you through one of her analyses, placing a hand on her thigh to stop her from standing up every time the ball is somehow close to the box.

The second half is more eventual, at least that’s what you can understand by the excitement the defender and the people in the stands around you seem to radiate.

You’re not clueless, you’re perfectly aware a five-nil win against Chelsea is quite the result. You care enough to think you can’t wait to go home - Leah is always in the mood for a private celebration when her team triumphs, especially over another London club.

“Can we go now?”, you ask as soon as the referee whistles three times, declaring the end of your and the Blues’ torture.

Leah’s happiness is contagious, so you’re not mad when she drags you in her arms to join her cheers and enthusiastic dance. It takes you less than a second to indulge her, letting the blonde spin you around and matching her excitement.

When she dips you and seals the move with a kiss the laugh that rises out of you is genuine and loud.

At first, neither of you notice the stadium’s camera pointed in your direction, recording your little moment of pure bliss in each other’s arms.

Looking back at it, as all your friends sent you the viral video, you know Leah saw you two on the big screen and went along with her little cocky display of affection and excitement for the victory.

You’re sure your father could be laughing at it too, despite the colors you’re wearing.

fine.

[wileys-russo]

Leah, London Colney, “I may aswell just retire”

legacy II l.williamson

"lee! baby we've gotta go in five have you packed her bag?" you yelled out from your daughters bedroom, sat on the bed with the three year old on your lap as you quickly braided her hair so it would be out of her face all day.

“i have snacks, her blanket, her mini ball, her teddy, her inhaler, her water bottle, her headphones, her beanie, her rain jacket, a change of clothes and a story book.” leah recounted as she burst into the room with the bright red backpack in hand.

"gunner!" mila chirped as you tied off the second braid and your wife looked like she could have exploded with joy. "yes you are, mummys little future gunner." leah cooed, tickling her stomach as you rolled your eyes.

"she means the dinosaur einstein." you pointed to the bright green mascot sat on the desk as leah turned.

"you are so mean to me when we have early morning training darling, i've half a mind to tell jonas you aren't allowed to train until eleven." leah sighed with a shake of her head as you stood and hoisted mila onto your hip.

"you love it mrs williamson." you grinned, pecking her lips and breezing past as she followed suit with the backpack in hand. "maybe only a little mrs williamson." you stiffened as her hand smacked against your ass.

"leah! the baby." you hissed in warning, your daughter in a critical parrot phase as you'd both lovingly dubbed it, repeating nearly everything and anything she watched either of you do or say.

and with your wifes potty mouth and tendency to gossip it had gotten the pair of you into hot water more than once in the last few weeks.

like just yesterday when leahs mum had tried to put her down for a nap and was promptly told to fuck off, something mila had heard leah shout at the tv while watching a premier league game when you both thought she was asleep in bed, not hovering by the doorway with eager little ears.

"im not a baby!" mila protested with a scowl that was scarily similar to the blonde standing behind her. "yes you are, you could be forty and you'll still be my baby." leah shrugged as your daughter huffed and you cleared your throat.

"our baby." leah corrected with a charming smile as you hummed, taking your daughters backpack out of her hand and grabbing the car keys as leah made sure to take both of your gym bags as the three of you headed out.

"shark song!" mila cheered as you buckled her into her car seat and leah slipped into the drivers side after tossing all the bags in the back. "bubba isn't there any other song you'd like?" leah asked hopefully with a pained winced as you closed your door and sat in your own seat.

"shark song! shark song! shark song!" the three year old chanted pumping her fists and kicking her feet out as if she'd just won the world cup and you grinned, phone connecting and clicking play on baby shark as leah groaned.

"i'm going to murder kyra." leah stated bluntly toward the culprit behind milas obsession with the overtly catchy kids tune, shifting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway as you leaned across the console and kissed her cheek.

"just look how happy it makes her baby." you chuckled nodding behind you as leah glanced to your daughter who was wiggling and dancing in her seat, screaming along to the lyrics.

"she's lucky she's cute." leah shook her head, smile tugging at her lips as she faced forward and sped onto the main road.

"well she gets that from you."

~

"leah! there is no way she's going to eat all that." your eyes widened in disbelief as the blonde placed down your daughters breakfast plate in front of you before sitting on your other side with her own.

"mama i'm a growing girl!" mila protested, echoing leahs exact words from dinner last night as you shot your wife a filthy look who wasted no time pecking your lips apologetically.

"me!" mila craned her head back as leah grinned, attacking the three year olds face with kisses as everyone at the table visibly melted at the sound of her giggles echoing around the room.

"hey mila can aunty beffy have some bacon pretty please?" beth asked with a smile from across the table. "good luck." leah mumbled with a shake of her head. "no! my bacon." mila frowned and covered her plate protectively.

"well if there was ever any doubt she's leahs, thats squashed it." kim shrugged as your wife grinned and pushed her playfully. "but mila im so hungry! i might fall off my chair from starvation." beth groaned dramatically, collapsing into her girlfriend who looked down at her unamused.

"didn't ask don't care." mila chirped your own words from dinner last night as leah choked on her eggs and kim whacked her on the back. "that ones on you!" your wife warned as you blushed, mumbling a gentle reminder to your daughter about manners.

"hey mila can aunty wally have a piece of bacon please?" lia asked from your other side as mila nodded, pushing her plate closer and wiggling herself up from your lap as you hurried to steady her as she stood on your knees.

"mila!" beth gasped in betrayal, lia scooting her chair back as your daughter clambered over to sit with her now instead, seemingly more than happy to share her breakfast with her godmother who gave the blonde across the table a victorious smirk as she bit down on a piece of bacon.

~

"i play now?" you looked down with a smile as a tiny body clung onto your leg, mila recognizing the sound of the whistle to mean she was now able to run around the pitch freely with her aunties as training was over.

"you play now. who do you wanna kick with today bubba?" you squatted down and brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face. "aunty lessi!" your daughter held her arms up at your best friend whose face lit up.

"now how could i ever say no to you?" the blonde picked her up right away before tossing her in the air and catching her, pulling a face and making mila giggle. "careful less." you warned sternly, the girl waving you off as she grabbed a ball.

"whose on the other team?" alessia whispered to your daughter as a few of the girls lined up, mila frowning as she looked them over. "lots, steffy, mummy and kimmy!" mila decided, simply naming all four girls who lined up making everyone grin.

"okay. remember what we practiced at our sleepover?" alessia placed mila down and squatted to her level, hands on her shoulders as your daughter nodded. "no mercy!" mila yelled making a few of the girls snicker.

"that was aunty mary, not me." alessia teased, pulling down mila's beanie over her eyes as she whined and quickly fixed it as her ball was placed by her feet. "okay. go!" alessia clapped, jogging beside her as your daughter gave it a kick.

one by one she kicked past her defenders, the girls all falling dramatically to the ground making her giggle as alessia continued to coach her forward, now only leah standing in the way of the goal.

"leah!" you called out in warning, recognizing your wifes competitive drive ran deep and she had no problem teaching your daughter 'how to lose gracefully' despite the fact it wasn't a lesson you'd say leah actually knew herself.

though if the blonde defender heard you she didn't acknowledge it, smirk on her face as the girls all cheered for mila who had an adorably concentrated frown on her features now.

"shoot shoot shoot!" alessia encouraged with a clap, mila kicking the ball as hard as she could and you held your breath knowing it had been a long morning and with your daughter due for a nap soon it wouldn't take much to set her off if leah chose not to let her have this goal.

though you breathed a sigh of relief as the ball rolled through your wifes legs and she fell to the ground with a dramatic cry, a soft smile on your face as mila jumped on top of her with a cheer.

"goaaaalll!" alessia cupped her hands over her mouth and cheered, scooping the tiny blonde up and hoisting her on her shoulders, sprinting around on a victory lap and assuring she held on very tightly.

you grabbed a bottle of water and made your way over toward leah who sat up, accepting your hand as you helped her up and were quickly drawn into her hold.

"does it still hurt she's following in my footsteps and not yours?" you teased, squealing as leahs cold hands crept up your top and she playfully bit your neck.

"with a goal like that under her belt i may as well just retire." leah sighed, arms wound around your neck as she gently swayed the two of you side to side, both of you watching on fondly as your daughter raced around with her auties.

"shit its past her nap time isn't it?" leah realised, training having had a delayed start due to a sprinkler malfunction as you nodded and your wife groaned, seeing mila was still very much so wide awake which would throw her off her regular schedule.

"oh she's going to be a nightmare to get down tonight."

[wosowffc]

Relatives

Part 1

Tw- slight mention of Ed, passing out, and sh

Today you started with Arsenal embarking on your new adventure, they had been keen to sign you for quite some time from Washington spirit after they had monitored me for a bit. My score sheets are quite good as well, I got top scores the last 4 seasons here, this season being a total of 48 which was just 3 off my record 2 years back. I had agreed to come here at the summer transfer window not playing for a national team as of yet through choice.

I've got some connections with people there already like Beth, Alessia, Kyra and Katie and a few more from over the years and time spent in Ibiza partying from dusk to dawn. I hadn't told anyone I signed as I also know Leah. Leah is my sister, and let's say I'm really worried about her reaction I'm 17 now and the last time I saw Leah was 3 or 4 years ago. It wasn't a pleasant night, one I wouldn't mind being wiped from memory.

The storm outside was picking up a bit more the uk had been under an amber yellow alert after storm emma had hit so we had cooped together in the living room Leah, mum and my brother putting the heat of the fire to use while the electric was out. I hadn't had a good few months and the days leading up to that day were very hard. I was struggling and I didn't know how to ask for help , it didn't end well as that night upstairs I had burned my arm....on purpose.

We're sat on the sofa Leah holding my close to her chest as I feel a bit dizzy, mabey it was just the heat or mabey it was the weather or maybe it was the fact that I hadn't eaten a lot, not having the energy or caring about food. Leah was stroking my hair back as sunk into her more.

"L-"

That's all I could get out in a tired voice. Her voice was faded she had asked me soemthing but I didn't quite hear it before she had me on the floor in the living room, took my jumper off and tried to get me to wake. It was at that point mum had seen my arms. My graffitied arms.

I came around in leahs arms mum is crying, my brother is looking shocked and Leah is whispering in my ear saying things like "I've got you munch" and "I'll help your through this, I promise" then I knew immediately they had seen quickly standing up- which wasn't a good idea after just passing out- I headed to the door as they tried to get me to sit down.

That was the last I saw of Leah,my mum and Jacob I could face them, I couldn't let them feel disappointed.

Today I was into the grounds I had already got kit sent to my new apartment so I was fully ready. I drove myself in, stopping for a drink on the way. Pulling up outside it was quiet I knew the girl are in a meeting where they would be told I have been signed so I head on to where the messaged instructions had told me to go ending up in the physio who would do some tests as all clubs do.

"Hey Izzy nice to meet you I'm Ashley and that's Amanda , there's also a few more but you meet them soon. It's great to have you here!" Ashley said in her normal happy demeanour. She seems nice to be fair.

"Yeah good to be here as well about time eh? after all the waiting, so what we'd doing today" I reply looking around the room they have a good setup in here with multiple bed and massage items along with things I'm not sure they are but I'm sure the physios do- hopefully.

We continued to do test and gym work making sure I'm in shape and have no injuries, which all was fine. I'm told I'm free to go meet everyone now but I first go to Renee's office to say hello.

"There's the newest gunner, come in,come in" Renee utters you in and point to take a seat with her as a coffee table in the office.

"So what do you think of the place, and how are you feeling about it all." She smiled offering some tea.

"Yeah i mean it's a nice place good facility" I answer looking down, the thought of meeting the girls. No. Meetign Leah again it's turning your stomach in all the wrong ways.

"Something you want to talk about?, always here yk" renee smiles at you wanting to give you a safe space to feel like you can talk to her.

"Yeah yeah, just thinking about meeting the girls soon and what they will think." I look back up to her she takes a sip of her tea as I copy with my own.

"I'm sure they will love you, now it might be a bit ...daunting I guess as you will be the youngest by a few years but I promise their all lovely" she smiles warmly

"Thanks I'll head out now see who's in the lounge, thanks Renee bye" I walk out of the room taking a deep breath hear we go.....

[greynatomy]

protective

arsenal x reader

some family dynamics with reader and the team

———

You signed your first professional football contract when you were seventeen with Arsenal. Ever since then, your teammates became very protective of you. You were assigned to live with Lia, who instantly took you under her wing.

At the time, Lia and Caitlin had been together and became your team parents. They would make sure you’ve packed everything you needed for away games, packed you lunches, whatever parents did and you very much enjoyed the attention. Even when you went on loan for a season all the way to California for Angel City, they made sure to get Christen’s phone number to make sure you were bing taken care of.

What you hated though, was how protective they were of you and that protectiveness passed onto the rest of your Arsenal teammates and when you were called up to the Lionesses, Leah and Beth’s protectiveness passed onto the rest of your national teammates.

Fast forward four years later, you’re now twenty-one, still living with Lia, minus Caitlin. You loved to call yourself a child of divorce, the ex-couple finding it amusing.

Right now, you and Lia were walking into Emirates Stadium to get ready for the match. You walk over to your cubby right next to you other mom.

“Hey, babes. Did you take a nap?” Caitlin pulls you into a hug, kissing the side of your head. You only nod, still feeling the sleepiness.

You get ready in your game kit, putting your warm up shirt over. Grabbing your hairbrush and some hair ties, you walk over to where Steph is, sitting on the ground between her legs, where she starts doing your hair, no questions asked, on of the perks of being the team baby.

Running onto the pitch, you start to warm up, partnering with Kyra. Couple minutes in, the fans started cheering, louder than any cheer you’ve heard just during warmups.

“Hey, isn’t that the girl you’re always watching?”

“What? Like I’m some stalker?” Your eyes wide, not sure what Lia meant when she walked up to you.

“No, like movies and that show she did. What was it? Wednesday or something?”

You look up to where she’s pointing on the big screen, seeing none other than Jenna Ortega. Your eyes instantly lights up, not knowing she would be at your match, or even in England.

Before your teammates knew it, you were up in the stands giving her a big hug.

“That doesn’t look like a very platonic hug, doesn’t it?” Katie asks Caitlin.

With her brows furrowed, she walks over to her ex-girlfriend asking if she’s seeing the same thing.

“She needs a good talking to.”

“Her or the girl?”

“We’ll talk to our kid and make Leah talk to the girl.”

“Ah. Good thinking.”

Walking towards where you were on the stands, they both call you over, saying it’s time to go back through the tunnel.

“Well, those are my mums. I’ll see you after the game so don’t go anywhere.”

You give Jenna a crooked grin. She lifts a hand up to cup your cheek, giving it a little pinch.

“You’re too cute. I’ll be sure to stay here.”

“Okay. See you later!”

Giving her a quick hug, you run off to Caitlin and Lia, them wrapping an arm each around you.

“Who was that?”

“Yeah, when’d you get a girlfriend?”

Your eyes go wide and purposefully ignore the questions, running away from them.

———

The match starts with Arsenal’s possession. Everything’s been all back and forth so far.

Meanwhile, Leah makes her way to the stands where your very popular guest is sitting.

“Mind if I sit here?” Leah asks, pointing at the empty seat next to the brunette.

“No, go ahead.”

Getting comfortable, the two watch the match, not really acknowledging each other. Leah, the great speaker that she is, is having a hard time to give the apparent girlfriend of her little cub the ‘talk’.

“How rude of me. I’ve not introduced myself. I’m Leah.”

“Jenna.” She shakes Leah’s hand that was held out to her.

“It’s very nice to meet you Jenna.”

“You as well.”

“Okay. Now, I saw that you know our baby gunner over there.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, yeah. We’re close.”

“How close would you say is close?”

“I’m not comfortable sharing things about my private life.”

“Uh, how do I put this, I have been given a job by her mums to basically find out more about you.”

“You know her moms?”

“Well team mums. I’m like the big sister, so I guess I’m trying to give you the ‘talk’ which is not going so well right now.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were a fan.”

“It’s all good. The whole team is just very protective of Y/N. We’ve known her since she was seventeen and filled in familial roles for her.”

The two were chatting it up, Leah getting to know the actress and paying attention to the match going on. Disappointment ran through both Leah and Jenna when the opposition scored in the twenty-fifth minute.

After that, everything’s been going back and forth, not much else happening. The Arsenal fans were losing hope once the ninetieth minute came. However, on the ninety-second minute, you stole the ball from your opponent, dribbling around her. Everyone was on the edge of their seat. You kicked the ball through their legs and shot a banger right passed the keeper’s gloves, equalizing the match.

You ran towards where Jenna was seated, seeing Leah next to her, but not thinking much of it, and sent a kiss her way, making her blush. Leah pretends to grab it and put it into her pocket making you laugh as you celebrate with the team.

Just two minutes after that, you sent a pass to Alessia, who makes it into the back of the net, giving you the lead. You run up to her and jump into her arms, screaming. The final whistle blows not long after, sending the fans cheering.

Leah as Jenna to follow her as she was going to the pitch, wanting to celebrate with her teammates. You, on the other hand, went to where Jenna was seated, not seeing her anymore, when hands cover your eyes.

“I can’t see!”

“You’re so cute.” You recognize the voice making your turn to face her.

“Jenna! I thought you left!” You wrap your arms around her waist, hers around your neck, standing up straight, her legs lifting off the ground because of your much taller form.

“I told you I wouldn’t.” You let her go, but keep your hands on her waist.

“Babes, you’re needed for an interview.” You tune to your right to see Lia and Caitlin.

“Ugh.” You throw your head back, not wanting to do an interview.

“Off you go. Don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

“Wait for me again?” You ask Jenna, getting a nod in response.

Once you leave, Caitlin and Lia step closer to Jenna.

“Hi, I’m Lia, this is Caitlin. What are your intentions with Y/N?”

“Well, when she’s done, I intend to take her to this restaurant she’s been wanting to try, but not without me, so I’ve reserved a seat for us there. And for the future, the same thing I’ve been doing which is to be patient and love her all the same, even more.”

“Woah, you’re good.” Caitlin didn’t expect that response.

“Yeah, I’ve tried to give her the talk, very likable person she is.”

“Hey, guys! What are we talking about?” You join back with them after your interview.

“Your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? I-uh-d-don’t have a-a—”

“They figured it out.” Jenna interrupts your stuttered response.

“Fine. I have a girlfriend. It’s so cool right!” You give everyone your famous bright smile.

Caitlin and Lia wrap an arm each around you, walking towards the tunnel.

“We still have to give you the talk thought.”

“What? No, please don’t!”

[kybercrystals94]

Deepest, Wholehearted Regards

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 7 - Prompt: Only for Emergencies / "It's us or them."

@prompts-of-bad-batch Week 3 Prompt: "Sometimes I think he's still here..."

Rated: G | Words: 914

21 BBY

Wrecker is in the gunner’s mount. He doesn’t want to listen to the argument at his back, doesn’t want to think about how it started or why. He doesn’t want to hear about Tech being too analytical, or Crosshair being too emotional. He doesn’t want to hear Hunter try to mediate. 

But the ship is too small for that. 

And so he hears everything, whether he wants to or not. 

Plan 99. 

He hates it.

Crosshair hates it too. Hunter won’t say either way, but Wrecker knows Hunter can’t possibly be okay with it. But Tech thinks they should have a plan for everything. Every possible scenario. It is only logical, he says. 

“If one of us were to become unrecoverably compromised,” Tech is arguing, “it would be advantageous to have the ability to communicate such an event discreetly.” 

“Having a plan to sacrifice ourselves should not be an option.” Crosshair is seething, voice dangerously low. 

“It is a very feasible last resort,” Tech counters. 

“Be human for one second and think about how that sounds!” 

“That’s enough!” Hunter’s sergeant voice is distinct, leaving no room for argument. “Crosshair, go cool off.” 

Something slams down hard, the sound of heavy boots retreating to the cockpit, and the hiss of the door closing. Then heavy, thick silence. Wrecker twists his hands together. He wishes he had Lula. 

“I did not mean…” Tech says quietly, but he stops short.

Wrecker thinks Hunter must’ve signaled him to be quiet, to let the conversation drop. Please. 

There is a sharp intake of breath. “That is to say,” Tech continues, but his voice sounds strange now, “I did not mean for such a plan to be offensive or macabre. Rather, I believed it would provide a chance to relay information we might not otherwise have an opportunity to express in an event where our demise is imminent.” 

Hunter sighs. He sounds tired. “What kind of information?” 

“Our deepest, wholehearted regards and our innate desire to put the lives of our brothers above our own,” Tech says. “Plan 99 would embody such sentiments without losing time to do so.” 

“That’s a good plan, Tech,” Hunter says after a long stretch of silence. “One I don’t intend for any of us to use.” 

“That would be preferable,” Tech agrees. “And I thought it would also serve as a remembrance, for Ninety-Nine. I know he would have conveyed the same information, had he had the chance.” 

“Yeah,” Hunter says softly, “He would’ve.”

19 BBY

“Wrecker, I need your help,” Omega says, climbing up into the crash seat next to him. 

Wrecker laughs. “Sure, kid! What do ya need?” 

Omega gives him her data pad. “Tech is having me memorize all of Clone Force 99’s plans. Can you quiz me?” 

Wrecker holds the data pad up where Omega cannot see the screen. “Okay…Plan 7…” 

Omega carefully relates each plan in detail, even when Wrecker tries to trick her by repeating a plan a time or two. The girl only laughs and recites the plan again without a hitch. 

“Your brain must be almost as big as Tech’s, kid, memorizing all those plans like that,” Wrecker tells her, passing over the data pad and ruffling her feathery blond hair. 

Omega giggles and ducks away. “Wait, you forgot one,” she protests, pushing the data pad back at him. 

“I did?” Wrecker asks, frowning. 

“Yeah! Plan 99.” 

Wrecker’s heart drops. “Oh, well, yeah. That’s not really a plan. Not like the other plans, ya know?” 

“It only says the sacrifice,” Omega says. “What does that mean?” 

“Oh, um,” Wrecker stammers, “maybe you should ask Hunter or Tech. Or Echo.” 

“Why?” Omega asks. 

“They can explain it a whole lot better than me,” Wrecker says. 

Omega frowns. “It makes you sad, doesn’t it. Plan 99? It’s for when something bad happens.” 

“Sort of,” Wrecker agrees. “It’s for if one of us has to do something we can’t come back from.” 

“I don’t like that,” Omega whispers, and she presses in close, curling up under his arm. “I hope we never use Plan 99…ever.” 

“Me too, kid,” Wrecker mutters, hugging her close. “We never want to use it��but if we ever did use it, did you know it’s a secret message? Only for us?” 

Omega hums a wordless question. 

Wrecker continues, keeping his voice as low as he can. “If someone ever says Plan 99 because they know they ain’t coming back, it means they care about you so much, in more words than they have time to say ‘em. It means they are putting your life first, that they want you to keep living, to keep fighting.” 

“It means ‘I love you,’” Omega says, voice muffled against him. 

Wrecker swallows. “Yeah, kid. It means ‘I love you.’”

**

Wrecker is in the gunner’s mount room. He doesn’t want to listen to the silence at his back, doesn’t want to think about how it started or why. He wants to hear Tech being analytical, explaining the galaxy away as though it were simple. He wants to hear Crosshair cleaning his rifle, Hunter discussing strategy with Echo. He wants to hear Omega laughing. He wants to pretend that he might be too far away to hear any of it. Sometimes he thinks they’re still there…if he pretends long enough. 

But the ship is too small for that. 

And so he hears nothing, whether he wants to or not. 

Plan 99. 

I love you too. 

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[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Such a Good Girl

Crosshair can’t shake this strange feeling in his chest, especially after you save his ass during a mission. Perhaps it's worth finally exploring.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 4.2k

Rating: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: praise kink, competency kink, pet names, Cross hates having feelings but has to deal with them anyway, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), fingering, heavy eye contact, dirty talk, the armour stays on, light D/s tones, sprinkle of quirofilia, idiots falling in love, mention of inappropriate use of rifle rest, brief Soft!Cross, brief aftercare.

A/N: DBB once described Cross as ‘a coiled snake’, and it’s the most fitting description I’ve ever read.

The ache had started in your calves but was now working up your thighs. You tossed and turned in the small bunk, trying desperately to get comfortable, but nothing worked. With a quiet groan of frustration, you sat up, your flimsy standard-issue blanket tossed aside, and hauled yourself off the bed.

Bare feet on the durasteel floor, you winced as the cold shot up your legs. It took a moment for you to walk without wobbling, but you persevered, quietly moving past the other bunks. Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech had conked out when you entered hyperspace, with Crosshair taking the first watch.

The last mission had been rough – the intel you’d received from Command had been flawed, vastly underestimating the number of droids you’d have to face. Then a damn electrical storm had rolled in, thrown out your comms, and messed with Hunter’s senses. Everything that could’ve gone wrong had, but you shouldn’t have been surprised given everything that had happened over the last year.

A whole year. It had gone past in the blink of an eye. You could still remember the day you’d been introduced to Clone Force 99 and assigned as their civilian handler. It was your job to keep in contact with Command, feed the boys their missions, and ensure they had everything they needed to complete their work and return safely.

While most handlers chose to remain on Kamino, away from the blaster fire and chaos, you’d elected to go with the Batch, to live on the Marauder with them and share their barracks on the rare occasion you could return to base. After all, you couldn’t keep them safe if you weren’t with them.

They’d been distant with you at first – still polite, of course, but hadn’t opened up or engaged in conversation about anything other than the current mission.

Wrecker had cracked after a month, inviting you to watch a holofilm with him in the gunner’s nest. Tech had been next, optimising your datapad when you’d been in the fresher. Hunter followed afterwards, teaching you how to play dejarik. And then Crosshair had been last, sitting silently beside you to field strip and reassemble his rifle before he’d pushed it in your direction for you to repeat his actions.

They were your family now, The four chaotic brothers.

But they’d come close to becoming three today.

Your slow, steadier steps continue through the ship until you reach the closed cockpit doors. It was a courtesy for whoever was on watch to close the doors and dampen any noise for those resting. Pressing your palm against the panel nearby, the door gave a quiet whoosh as it opened, sealing shut behind you as you stepped in.

The cockpit was quiet; a lone figure sat in the co-pilot chair. “You’re meant to be sleeping.” The serpentine slink of Crosshair’s voice filled the space as he turned the chair around to see who was up, momentary surprise flickering in his eyes as he caught sight of you before he tampered it back down.

“Would if I could, Cross.” You answered dryly, sitting in the seat behind him. The nickname slipped out easily these days, though you could remember the scowl the sniper had thrown your way the first time you’d used it. Ultimately, he’d warmed to it and secretly enjoyed every time you used it.

“Hell’s wrong with you?” He asked as you shifted in the seat, the well-worn leather giving a little as you tried to get comfortable. He pushed his toothpick to the other side of his mouth with his tongue, sharp eyes raking over your body as he took quick stock of your condition.

Your lips fell into a flat line as you stared incredulously at the man opposite you. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe my whole body is protesting because I had to race up the side of a damn mountain this afternoon to save my snarky sniper from a platoon of droids.” You huffed, the tension palpable in your voice.

As usual, Crosshair had found the best vantage point during the mission, but the unexpectedly large number of droids had caught you all off guard. You’d been mid-way through fighting a platoon back when you’d spotted another cresting over the mountain. Crosshair had been focused on picking off the droids coming after you and his brothers, and without comms to alert him, you’d been left with two options – furiously field sign the warning and pray he caught it through his scope or haul ass up the mountain and deal with the problem yourself.

You’d chosen the latter.

Your blaster bolt had cut through the first droid just as they’d rounded the corner and spotted Crosshair in a prone position, his rifle aimed down the mountain. And though every muscle in your body had burned and protested, you’d valiantly held them back long enough for him to turn and help fight them off.

The corner of Crosshair’s lip twitched, a tinge of amusement in his hawkish gaze. “Your snarky sniper?” He quips, trying to ignore the warmth in his body at your words.

“Of course, that’s what you take out of that. Not the fact that my legs feel like they’re on fire.” You roll your eyes, arms folding across your chest as you meet his gaze. You weren’t really mad, and you both knew it.

For a moment, you silently stare at each other until Crosshair breaks the contact and reaches down, drawing your legs up onto his lap. A noise of surprise slips past your lips as you slide down a bit in the chair, but you adjust your position. His thumbs press against your ankles, sliding slowly up your calf as he works out the ache in your muscles, one leg at a time. His hands are surprisingly gentle as he pushes and rubs, the pain starting to fade with every pass of his fingers.

The cockpit falls silent again, the streaks of hyperspace throwing soft light through the space, illuminating Crosshair from behind like a halo. The idea has you suppressing a smile, knowing he’d baulk at such a comparison.

He can feel the weight of your gaze on him, but he studiously ignores it, focussing instead on trying to ease your pain. He’d been so intent on ensuring the safety of his brothers, picking off the droids attacking them, that he’d missed your scramble up the mountain. It had only been the sound of your blaster fire nearby that had snapped his attention to you and the oncoming droids. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d have likely been overwhelmed without your quick actions. He was better than any Reg, without a doubt, but without backup, an entire platoon of droids was too much even for him.

The surprise he’d felt at seeing you up on the mountain with him had been short-lived, replaced with a strange sense of attraction as he watched you protect him before instinct kicked in, and he’d joined you in the fight. That feeling had returned just now when you’d called him yours and prompted him to reach for you to ease your aches. It was confusing and infuriating. Sure, over the last year, he’d fleetingly thought of you in a less than professional way, but he’d never had the urge to act on it until today.

Your body sinks into the chair, relaxing as the tension is worked out of your legs. It feels too damn good, and a moan slips from your lips before you can stop it, your eyes widening as you inhale sharply, going stock still. Crosshair’s hands pause, toothpick slowly sliding to the other side of his mouth as he finally lifts his gaze, those sharp brown eyes dancing with something dangerous. “What an unexpectedly pretty sound, kitten.”

A strangled noise escapes you, wide eyes locked onto the sniper. The nickname is nothing new, usually thrown at you with a playful barb or some snark, but this time it’s different. This time, he purrs it.

“S-Sorry.” You stammer, clearing your throat as you try desperately to ignore the sudden heat in your belly. “It slipped out. Felt good.” You gesture vaguely towards your legs before pulling them out of Crosshair’s lap. But those slender fingers of his wrap around your ankles, keeping them in place, his eyes refusing to leave yours.

Crosshair knows he’s playing a dangerous game right now, knows he’s teetering on the edge of something that could go favourably for you both or go wildly wrong. But your moan…fuck. He’s grateful his codpiece hides his half-hard cock as one of his hands trails up your calves, skimming across your knees and thighs. He stops himself from sliding his hand under the hem of the oversized sleep shirt you’re wearing, a strange pang of something clawing at his chest as he realises it’s one of Wrecker’s old shirts.

Your own chest is rising and falling rapidly with tiny breaths. Crosshair’s eyes take in the flutter of your pulse in your neck, the way you’re watching him so intently. The pads of his fingers smooth across your thigh as he weighs up the situation. He could play this off, joke about riling you up and never mention it again. Or, he could figure out this strange feeling and why he’s picturing you naked, writhing beneath him with nothing but pleasure painted on your gorgeous face.

He, too, chooses the latter.

“You did good today.” He states lowly, fingers skirting ever so slightly under the hem of your shirt, eyes focused on your face. That feeling in his chest expands as he watches your pupils dilate as you inhale shakily.

Warmth sits in your belly, the compliment curling around you like a blanket on a cold day. “Just doing my job.” You decide to play it off, even though the words and the way he’s touching you make your heart pound a little wildly. You’d never been good at accepting praise and certainly weren’t expecting it from Crosshair.

“Maybe. But I’d like to thank you properly.” He tilts his head ever so slightly, the usual bite to his words gone as his eyes flit down to watch his fingers shift, dragging down the inside of your knee.

Brows furrowing for a second, you swallow, wondering if you’re reading the room correctly. “Are you��propositioning me?” You ask quietly, a shiver sliding down your spine as Crosshair’s fingers still.

His eyes lift, locking onto you. And the silence stretches.

You can’t deny he’s a good-looking man, nor can you deny how your heart somersaults when you see the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips after you say something amusing or when he reaches around you for something and crowds into your space. Now, watching him, you swear you can see a hint of apprehension in his eyes.

“Forget it.” Crosshair insists, going to move your legs from his lap. He feels stupid for even suggesting it – you could have any man in the galaxy; why would you want him?

You grasp his wrist, having moved on instinct. Focusing on him, your expression softens as he avoids your gaze, shifting that damn toothpick across his mouth again. You reach for it with your free hand, prying it gently from his mouth. The motion makes him finally look at you, and you can see the walls he’s trying to put back up. That can’t happen. “I don’t want to forget it.” You confess, your eyes momentarily betraying you as you glance at his lips.

His mouth is on you before you know it, firm, demanding lips pressed against yours. The toothpick falls to the floor. Hands grasp at your thighs, hauling you into his lap. You go willingly, tongue sliding against his lips, seeking entrance to deepen the kiss. One of your hands slides to the nape of his neck, and the other grasps at his bicep.

Crosshair’s mind is spinning, though he forces himself to appear composed. Your gentle weight in his lap is delicious, the way your ass presses against him, your hands clutching him. That feeling in his chest grows, and he silently luxuriates in it, lips parting as he feels your tongue pressing forward. He tastes you, a groan erupting from low in his throat. There’s something else he wants to taste more.

Supporting your body, he eases you back until you’re sprawled once more in the opposite seat. His lips refuse to leave yours, steady hands positioning you at the edge of the chair before he pulls back. Watching as your eyes flutter open, his cock strains against his codpiece. You’re breathing rapidly, lips shiny, desire burning in your pretty eyes. He did that to you. He can’t fight back his pride.

Dropping to his knees, Crosshair barely feels the cold floor beneath him, his armour buffering the impact and the temperature. Hands slide back up your thighs, fingers hooking on your panties. They slide down your legs quickly, and a smirk tilts his lips as he pulls them off you, eyes locked on yours as he tucks the scrap of fabric safely in one of the pouches on his belt.

Drawing your legs over his shoulders, he leans in, breaking the eye contact to take in the beautiful sight of your pussy spread before him like a buffet.

It’ll be the best meal he’s ever had.

The edges of Crosshair’s armour bite into your thighs, but the sting of pain evaporates the moment he drags his tongue through your slick folds. Head thunking back against the seat, your hips buck as you gasp. 

“Maker, your pussy tastes good.” You hear the slink of his voice, a needy whine leaving you as you glance down to watch him feast. The almost permanent frown lines on his face are gone, a borderline serene look on his features as his tongue presses against your entrance, pulling a stuttered exhale from you.

His eyes snap open at the sound, watching up the length of your body as you writhe when he flicks his tongue across your clit, sucking the sensitive bud. The taste of you on his tongue is addictive, and though he’d deny it if he’s ever asked, he could quite happily live between your thighs. Right hand sliding up under your sleep shirt, he drags his fingers across the gentle swell of your breasts. You’d always been softness and smiles where he was hard edges and scowls. His other hand joins the party, two fingers pressing against your entrance, sinking in slowly as his tongue laves over your clit.

He silently preens as your hips buck, back arching while you moan. But then you’re tapping his hand under your shirt, head tilting down so you can catch his gaze. “Swap hands. Please.” You insist, a desperate look in your eyes.

Crosshair isn’t sure why it matters, but he does as you ask, sliding his right hand down your body as he removes his left from your pussy. Swapping them over, he presses his pointer and middle finger into you, prying his mouth from your clit so his thumb can run firm circles across it.

“You gonna tell me why, doll?” He questions, tongue darting out to lick his lips and enjoy your taste as he watches you cant your hips, chasing the pleasure his fingers are bringing you.

Heat rushes across your cheeks, and you avert your eyes, a mix of pleasure and shame flowing through you. “It’s…” You start, cutting yourself off with another moan as Crosshair twists his fingers, firmly pressing their pads to your g-spot.

Crosshair smirks, delight blooming inside him at your reaction. He stills his actions. “You can have more of that if you tell me…” He bargains, enjoying your groan.

Swallowing thickly, you bite the proverbial bullet. “Trigger finger.” You admit, eyes screwing shut.

The delight blooming in Crosshair’s chest now flits across his face. That wasn’t the answer he’d expected, but it went straight to his cock. “You like that thought, of my trigger finger buried in your pretty pussy, coaxing you to cum?” He teases, repeatedly pressing against your g-spot, rewarding you for your honesty. “Knowing this same finger will keep you safe on the next mission…”

Nodding eagerly, you rock your hips, chasing the building pleasure. “Yes. Always feel safe with you. Please, I wanna cum.” Desperation coats your voice.

Your admission makes him feel good – knowing how much you rely on him. Watching the slide of his fingers in and out of you, the way you writhe with every press against your g-spot and circle of your clit, he makes a slight noise of approval. “You really did do well today.” He comments lowly, enjoying the little whine you let out at the praise. “And brave girls get rewarded.” He tacks on, enjoying your chest’s rapid rise and fall as you pant, your hips still rocking, grinding against his hand. “You can cum.”

You’d never wanted a man’s permission to climax before, but something about Crosshair makes you want to please him. His fingers crook a little more, a little more pressure added to your clit, and you finally cry out his name. The pleasure slams into you, making you gasp as it floods your body, the tension snapping as your hips and thighs shake through your release. Your mind feels foggy, but you’re distantly aware of his fingers still buried inside you, drawing you through your orgasm.

Watching you fall apart might just be Crosshair’s new favourite thing. Your body is beautiful, the noises you make are absolutely sinful, and the thing clawing at his chest earlier is soothed, knowing he was the one bringing you such pleasure.

As you come down from the high, trying desperately to catch your breath, you feel yourself lifted, manhandled onto Crosshair’s lap as he retakes his place in the co-pilot’s chair. “There you go. So good for me.” The low rasp of his voice brushes against your ear. You feel something press against your lips, and your eyes open to see your sniper pressing two fingers to your mouth — the two fingers that had been buried inside you.

“Taste yourself. Get them nice and clean.” He instructs eyes darkening as he watches you suck them into your mouth, feels your tongue swirling around them, cheeks hollowing. And you hold his gaze will you do it, sending his heart racing and making his cock throb.

You make a show of cleaning him off, moaning around his steady fingers, the taste of your release hitting your tongue. Slowly sliding your lips up, a small ‘pop’ fills the cockpit as you pull off them. The effect you’re having on Crosshair is achingly obvious – his hawkish eyes are filled with a swirl of emotions, his hips shifting underneath you.

“On your knees, kitten.” He commands, easing you down gently off his lap, hands guiding you to the floor. You shudder as the durasteel meets your warm skin, Crosshair’s legs parting until you rest between them. Eyes tracking up his body, you slide your hands across his armour, fingers finding the small gap between the plates on his thighs. The brief contact makes him grunt, and you smirk as you reach his codpiece, undoing the latches and prying it off.

You knew the boys chucked their armour around, the katarn-class kit could withstand more than regular plastoid, but you placed his codpiece down on the floor with reverence. After all, it was part of what kept him safe.

Crosshair watches you intently, swallowing thickly as you place his armour down on the ground. An odd sensation of nervousness crashes into him as your eyes return to his body, homing in on his hard cock, which strains again his blacks. He tampers the feeling down – you’re not the first woman to get her hands on him, but he silently acknowledges that you’re the most important.

The cockpit is quiet again as you lean forward, focused on his outline. Your lips ghost across the taut fabric, the contact dragging a sharp grunt from Crosshair. His right hand finds its way into your hair, holding you steadily as you pull the waistband of his blacks down, revealing him.

Tongue darting across your lips, you tuck his blacks under his balls, pushing them up just so. Dicks weren’t inherently lovely to look at – or at least the ones you’d seen up until now weren’t. However, Crosshair was in an entirely different league.

Just the right thickness and a little longer than average, he curved gently to the right. Heavy balls sat just below, and you had to suppress a smile at the thatch of neat, silvery hair at the base of him. The colour wasn’t a fashion choice after all.

Wrapping your fingers around his base, you look up as you press soft kisses along his underside, dragging your tongue across velvety skin. His groan echoes around the room, fingers tightening in your hair. “Keep looking at me like that, doll. Let me see those pretty eyes.” He instructs, voice low and coiled, igniting heat in your belly.

Your lips wrap around the tip, tongue sliding into his slit to lap up the small bead of pre-cum. His hips buck and you bring your free hand up to rest against his abs to help stabilise yourself and apply gentle pressure to keep him seated. Your eyes stay locked on his, holding steadfast even as you bob your head, moaning unabashedly at his weight on your tongue.

Pulling off him completely, you dragged the head of his cock across your lips, shiny with your spit, watching him track the movement. Laving your tongue across him, you take him back into your mouth, sliding down a couple of centimetres, cheeks hollowing.

Crosshair knows he’s fucked. That strange feeling in his chest…yeah, he knows what it is now.

He can’t pretend this is some random hookup, that he’s just thanking you for saving him earlier. He can’t pretend it wouldn’t bother him for other men to hit on you during shore leave or for you to go home with them. You’re his. And while he might not be able to say it yet, he’ll damn well show it.

His free hand moves to your chin, gently tilting your head so he can slide in further, gasping as he feels the head of his cock bump against the back of your throat. “So perfect at sucking my cock. There’s my good girl.” He croons, watching how your eyes light up, how you bob your head that little bit faster, making him hiss with pleasure.

Spurred on, you take a deep breath and press forward, sliding more of him into your mouth until you can feel him in your throat. You exhale through your nose, hearing his choked moan before you pull back, desperately in need of air. You cough, drawing in a ragged breath, a string of saliva still connecting you to his flushed cock.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Crosshair grits out, feeling his balls tighten with every glide of your lips across his shaft. Your mouth was heaven – warm and wet – and it only excited him more for the day he could bury himself inside your pussy.

Alas, the Marauder wasn’t the most comfortable place for that. And with what he had in mind, you’d need a comfortable surface.

Taking him back in your mouth, you set a steady pace, feeling the twinges of ache starting in your jaw. But you push through, deep-throating him repeatedly until you can feel his thighs tremble and see how tight his balls are. Your focus shifts to the tip, lips wrapped perfectly around it as you suck and lick, tongue flicking against his frenulum on the upstroke.

He was moving more, unable to stay still as he hurtled towards the edge. Your eyes darted to his rifle rest, the winged extension shifting as he grasped the arm of the chair, knuckles white. It didn’t escape his notice, and a foul thought crossed his mind. “Think you could take it, kitten? Fuck, you’d look so pretty with it buried inside you.” He voiced, hips thrusting upwards as he chased his orgasm. He’d never be able to look at the piece of armour the same way again if it had been inside your gorgeous body.

You moaned around his cock at the idea, and that was all it took. Fingers tangled in your hair tapped at your scalp in warning seconds before Crosshair let out a stuttered groan, hips pressing forward as he came. The tang of him filled your mouth, and you greedily swallowed down everything he gave you, tongue gliding softly around the head of him as he collapsed back against the co-pilot seat. Gently, you cleaned him up, licking the last remnants of his release away, knowing he was extra sensitive.

He guides you off the floor, dragging you back onto his lap, his softening cock pressing against your damp folds. One of his thumbs tugs at your lower lip as you finish licking them clean, and his gorgeous brown eyes are focused on you as you both catch your breath. For a moment, you see a hint of vulnerability pass through him, and he leans in to give you an unexpectedly soft kiss. “Maybe I should save that fine ass of yours some more.” You murmur, voice a little hoarse.

Crosshair’s fingers move to your jaw, and he gently massages it, having spotted the subtle twitch of the aching muscles. The corners of his lips quirked up ever so slightly in a small smile. “I’ll be sure to thank you every time.”

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 7: Heaven's Happiness

Note: As always, the love this story receives amazes me. Thank you so much for reading. Thank you for the notes, the reblogs, the comments and messages. Interacting makes this so much fun! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There will be a lot more time skips from here on out! So you'll all get to know the gang as adults. I will ask that if anyone wants to use my story as inspo for one of your own, or anything else, you let me know, it's more fun that way. I also don't post this or any of my other stuff anywhere else. Once again, hi to my best friend who now reads this story, love you miss girl <3 Anywayyy, I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading <3

Taglist:@spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

Warnings: Some strong language

“She’s very gifted, Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock. The best I’ve seen at this age in my career. You could have a professional dancer on your hands.”

The three adults watch from the observing window as Heaven demonstrates Grand Adage for a group of her peers. Her little back straight and stomach tight as she accomplishes the move with a stern discipline that many adults struggle to achieve. 

“We know. So why is she playing Clara?” 

“Beatrice-”

“I’m just wondering, Luca, I mean I just believe it’s our right as her parents to ask Madame Sidorov why our 9 year old daughter is teaching the snowflakes that are twice her age the dance she doesn’t get to be a part of.” 

Madame Sidorov swallows hard as she brings her clipboard to her chest. She’s been running her youth dance company for over 20 years. Many of her dancers have gone on to be successful, working artists. But she’d never seen talent like Heaven Whitlock. The girl came into her studio at the age of 6, excited to show her that she already knew how to go en pointe even though children really shouldn’t and normally couldn’t do it until they were 11. Madame Sidorov had been overcome with excitement. She had a star on her hands. 

The older woman also learned that Beatrice Whitlock also knew what she had. The teacher has dealt with gunner parents before, but none like the stern young woman who trailed in behind her prodigy daughter with her nose in the sky and demands on her tongue. 

“Mrs. Whitlock, Clara is the lead role in the Nutcracker-”

“Bullshit, Sidorov, we both know that the prima dancer role is the Sugar Plum Fairy and the arguably most complicated dance is the Waltz of the Snowflakes, the dance you had my daughter demonstrating yesterday. So,” Beatrice’s heels click as she shifts her weight from one leg to another, hip jutting out. “Why is your best dancer playing the dumb little girl who spends most of the ballet watching everyone else dance?”

“I think my wife is frustrated because we all know our daughter is talented. So we’re having a hard time understanding why those talents aren’t being showcased.” Luca cuts, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist in an attempt to calm her. 

“Heaven is only 9. We need to allow the older dancers to play the more advanced roles-” 

“Then they should be better.” Beatrice interrupts, swinging her purse over her shoulder, pushing her shades up onto her head. “How about this, until your priorities are straight, we can take Heaven somewhere where things are fair and you can dust off your pointe shoes and start teaching again instead of using my child.”

“But, all of my friends go there.” Heaven whines as they speed their way down the highway for the hour drive back to their home. “I don’t want to find another studio.”

“I know, Stellina, but we want you to have every opportunity. Wouldn’t you want more chances to dance?”

Heaven is stubbornly silent in the backseat, her step father softly pats her foot, reaching back from the driver seat. Her mother turns to face her, a noncommittal look on her face. “Baby, when you came to Mommy a couple years ago, what did you say you wanted to be when you grew up?”

The younger girl bites her lip, tugging irritably at her seatbelt. “A ballerina.”

“Just a ballerina?”

Heaven huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, looking away from her mother. “The best ballerina ever.”

“The best ballerina. Ever. And Mommy and Papino have worked very hard to make that possible for you, yes? Practice everyday, paying for lessons, buying you everything you need. But you’re a big girl now. You’re going to have to learn how to work very hard too if you want to be the best, baby. We can only take you part of the way. You need to think super hard about whether this is what you want. You need to think about if you’re going to earn it.”

Beatrice’s voice is soft and kind, but her words are harsh. She turns around, not waiting for a response from her daughter, satisfied that her whines and complaints had quieted to obedient, stifled little sniffles. 

Heaven stares down at her hands through wet lashes, her bottom lip wobbling as she smothers her sadness. She does want it. She wants to be the best ballerina ever. She is going to be the best ballerina ever. And she’s grateful. Papino and Mommy had given a lot. And she won’t disappoint them. So she’d go to a new dance studio. She would make new friends. And if not, that wasn’t what she was there for. 

Luca Whitlock frowns as he drums his finger on the steering wheel, looking forward at the traffic ahead of them. “How about some ice cream, Stellina? Might cheer you up?” 

Identical sets of brown eyes meet in the rearview mirror. The little girl in the backseat simply sinks against the leather, forcing indifference into her voice. “No thank you, Papino, I’m…not hungry.”

“And you have your, um,” Heaven scratches her head, mentally scrolling through the list of items Tashi would need at home. She was going to spend the first few weeks post-knee surgery with her parents. Heaven had stayed with her girlfriend for the days following the injury, lying to her school and telling them she had a death in the family that required her to take some time away. She just wanted to get Tashi settled before she headed back to UCLA. 

The dancer had assumed that their boyfriend would emerge out of the shadows, and use his charm to weasel out of an apology, ultimately taking over Tashi’s care since he had the most free time.

Unfortunately, he continued to disappoint her. So, instead, she lingered. Slept in Tashi’s bed with her, unwrapped and rewrapped her knee. Cleaned her dorm, brought her any work she missed. The girls in the athletic dorm thought she’d moved in. But now, Tashi’s parents were here to take her home for a little while. 

“I have everything, Hev, you made sure of that.” 

Her heart aches. Tashi sounds so tired. So down. Heaven is so frustrated. She’s ready to move past this part. She wants Tashi to just be better. She tells herself over and over that the surgery would fix it. That once she got the treatment she needs and a little physical therapy, she’d be back to where she was, ready to take over the world with her. 

“I’ll see you when we open, right? You’re still gonna come?” Heaven rocks on her feet, careful not to bump Tashi’s crutch. “You don’t have to, you’ve seen me do most of the dances and I know it might be hard to travel-”

“Babe, I’ll be there. Okay? I need to go.” Tashi lifts Heaven’s chin, giving her a halfhearted peck before turning to climb into her dad’s truck, gesturing for Heaven to stop when she goes to try helping her into the high seated vehicle. “I’ll call you. Why don’t you have Art help you get your stuff from my room? He probably wants to say goodbye.”

“T, are we gonna talk more about that-”

“I told you,” Tashi shrugs, hand on the car door handle, her pajama pants poorly covering the large brace on her knee. “M’not mad. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. Heaven isn’t stupid. Ever since Tashi and Patrick found out that she’d done…stuff with Art, Patrick has been radio silent, and all Tashi does is encourage Heaven to spend more time with Art who she was decidedly avoiding. She’d gotten…caught up in the infirmary. The combination of the heightened emotions and Art’s soft attention and care caused another moment of weakness. She’d accidentally said something that she’d been denying to herself ever since, and thanking the good lord above that Art had apparently missed. She was determined not to tempt fate for a…fourth time?

Which is why she’d gone back to Tashi’s room and started packing her stuff and straightening up without alerting the blond tennis player who’d been haunting her dreams as of late. And it’s also why she almost pissed herself when he’d somehow materialized in the dorm room doorway, rapping his knuckles against the light wood, in a failed attempt not to startle her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but, um, Tashi texted me and said you might need some help getting this stuff to your car.” 

He looks good. She can’t ignore that, but she can refuse to get caught up in staring at him as he leans in the doorway, muscled arms on full display as he leans in the frame, a poorly hidden pout on his face. 

“I’m good.” Heaven shrugs, slinging her bookbag over her shoulder, trying to lift her purse and her other two bags at the same time, only to have all of her belongings fall out of her purse. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, let me help you.” Art bends and starts grabbing the miscellaneous items from her bag.

“I can do it-”

“It’ll be quicker-”

“Art.” She huffs, tucking her hair behind her ears and sitting criss-crossed on the floor. “I meant it, when I said that I was done…Tashi might be trying to teach me a lesson in some kind of twisted way, and I’m sorry you’re getting mixed up in it, but I’m…I can’t be around you and be with her at the same time. Clearly, I can’t handle boundaries.”

“So…so what does that mean? Not talking at all? Is that what you want?” He asks, shoulders dropping, eyes filled with hurt as he inches closer. “Heaven-”

“Sure. If that’s what it takes for it to get you to get I can’t do” she gestures between them. “This, then fine, let’s say that’s what I want.” 

Art clenches his jaw, blinking quickly as he tries to think something he could say. Anything to change her mind. “Heaven, please, I’ll…we’d be friends. We can just, I can’t…please don’t.” he finishes, giving up on trying to articulate his thoughts through his panicked haze. Through all of this back and forth, chasing and running, he’d forgotten the chance that once Patrick was out of the picture, that he might get written out too. 

His eyes scan her face as she shakes her head, shoving the last of her stuff back into her purse and standing. “Art, it’s not like I don’t wanna be around you. But stuff is getting too complicated. This shit is just too much. I haven’t been back to my school in days, Tashi’s leg is fucked and I don’t want to make things any harder for her, Patrick is just fucking gone and I really can’t handle anything more. So when you say we can be friends, I need you to mean it. I need you to tell me we can do that.”

Art finds himself in between a rock and a hard place. He wants to be honest. He wants to acknowledge that he can’t see himself getting over her within the foreseeable future. He wants to tell her that he’s glad she’s probably not with Patrick anymore, and as bad as he feels about Tashi’s leg, he quite frankly does not understand why it has to change anything between them. 

But he’s desperate. Art is humiliated to admit it to himself but, he would do anything to keep the line of communication between him and Heaven open so if he had to appease her by saying that they would be platonic despite the fact that he quite literally gets dizzy standing next to her, fine. Like he’d told himself before, he was playing the long game, collecting the points that matter. So, offering her a tight smile, Art sticks his large hand out to her, encasing her smaller one and jumping to stand at his full height. “Friends. But, friends don’t ignore each other for days, Hev.” 

Heaven bites her lower lip, choosing to ignore the blue-brown eyes that drop to her mouth before looking back up at her and shaking his hand. “Okay. Yeah.” The pair slowly pull their hands apart, Heaven shivers as she feels the calluses on his palm slide across her hand. “As my friend, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is,” the girl rolls her eyes to the ceiling, releasing a heavy sigh. “Is she done? You saw it, and you obviously know more than me…is that something she can keep playing with her knee like that?”

He can’t bring himself to dash the hope she was clearly harboring on the behalf of Tashi but the girl’s recovery is…unlikely. Art tucks his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as he chooses his words carefully. “Tashi’s strong, and really fucking good, if anyone is going to recover from that kind of injury, it’s her.”

“So…no.” Heaven sits down on Tashi’s bed, staring forward at the wall that’s littered with pictures of some of the best tennis players in the world. A shaky breath leaves her as she stares at the professional posters, accompanied by the posters Adidas had made with Tashi on them. 

“You’re a really good girlfriend.” Art whispers.

“I cheated on her with you. I’m pretty much the worst girlfriend ever.”

“No, I mean, you’re really invested in her. In the thing she loves, like you care about tennis the same way we do, f-for her.” 

Heaven smiles softly to herself, grabbing Tashi’s pillow and hugging it to her body. “I fell in love with Tashi watching her play tennis. Just like everyone else does.” she jokes, poking Art’s leg with her toe. “When I’m watching her, it’s like I’m getting to witness something. It’s…corny but tennis is her calling. She goes to some other little world when she’s playing, and, even though I’m not a tennis player, she takes me with her. It’s this feeling of closeness that I can’t get anywhere else, you know?” Or at least, nowhere else I’m willing to talk about.

He does know. Art does know exactly what she’s talking about. He felt it. Once, when he and Patrick sat and watched Tashi play for the first time. It’s an all encompassing feeling. He was so caught up in watching her every move that he hadn’t looked anywhere but at Tashi. If he’d just looked three rows in front of him he’d have seen the girl in front of him now. 

The second time, the feeling was more intense, more of a sensation than a mere feeling. It was when he was sitting in an empty theater, watching Heaven dance, just for him. Art had never felt the things he’d felt before. He’d never had the thoughts he thought. He’d held his breath for the entire minute and 26 seconds that she gave him. He sat on the edge of the red, fabric auditorium seat, scared to blink and get left behind. He wanted to capture the feeling and keep it forever. And he has. He’s kept it. And everytime she gives him another taste, a smile, a kiss, a laugh, a touch, he goes back to being alone in the theater, experiencing euphoria for the very first time. 

If that’s the feeling Tashi gives Heaven, then he’s very jealous. And he wants it.

And that’s another new feeling the girls introduced him to. He’d never wanted something like her…or…uh them. 

Jealousy. Longing. Needing. 

Art knew exactly what Patrick was talking about when he said he liked seeing him fired up about something. Because, as much as he loves tennis, it didn’t make his blood boil. It didn’t make his stomach muscles clench with intensity. He didn’t feel that satisfying nervous burn. Not until…

Art needs to test a theory.

He scratches the back of his head, looking down at his sneakers before clearing his throat. “Uh, so, Hev, I’ve got a match this afternoon. And, I know things are weird right now, so you might think I’m a dick for even asking-”

“Arthur.”

“Come watch me play.” He blurts. Heaven’s eyes widen and he finds himself taking a tentative step forward as if he was trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I don’t know, I just figured…I mean, you might miss watching someone play, with Tashi taking a break and Patrick being…himself.” When Heaven continues to look unsure, Art puts himself out there again, trying to entice her the way he knows how. He moves to stand in front of where she’s seated on the bed, crouching to be just below her level. “When I win it will be for you. I’d like you to be there.” Art carefully tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, before grabbing her chin between his thumb and index finger, moving her face around playfully. “As a friend.”

As a friend. That’s exactly what Heaven repeats to herself, over and over when she carries her bags over to the tennis courts, placing one foot onto the metal bleacher and opting to sit in the seats down on the front to rows. Just so she can see better. And it’ll be easier to slip out before the match is over. Besides, she couldn’t bring herself to sit with the women’s tennis players towards the top. All she could think of when she saw them was that it should have been one of their legs cracking instead of Tashi’s and it didn’t exactly make her feel like a great person. 

She slips into the seat and crosses her legs, struggling as she pushes her overnight bag under the low seat.

“Hey, let me help you.” A blonde girl crouches beside her, pushing along with Heaven and getting the back underneath. 

“Oh,” Heaven offers her a bright smile. “Thanks, I have to head back to my school after this so I have all my shit with me, didn’t think I was gonna come.”

“No problem,” the girl chirps, plopping down into the seat next to Heaven. “Sara. Myles’ girlfriend, he’s playing after this first match. Whose girlfriend are you?”

Tashi’s name is on the tip of her tongue. She swears it is. But the girl is clearly talking about the players that were starting to filter in, with their red shirts that Heaven could see fitting Art perfectly from her seat. His blond curls flopping as his head moves side to side, she knows he’s looking for her. Heaven gives a soft wave to catch his attention and can’t help but match his smile when he spots her, waving back. “I’m not dating a player.”

“Well these are girlfriend seats, so don’t let anyone else hear you say that.” Sara says lightly, pulling her shades down over her eyes. 

Heaven turns to look at her, tearing her eyes away from Art stretching. “What the hell are girlfriend seats?”

“They’re seats…where girlfriends sit?” The girl sits up to get a pixelated picture of her boyfriend on her razor. “You know, the players’ girls sit, so they can see them. No wonder I don’t recognize you, you’re a plant.”

“I’m Heaven, I don’t go here, I’m just watching my friend before I go back to UCLA.” 

“Oh, shit,” Sara’s eyes widen in realization. “You’re Donaldson’s girl right? Myles’ cousin Kyle, trust me I know the names kill me too, but he was saying how Donaldson brought his hot girlfriend out with them the other night and was dick trying to show off for her.” 

“Again, we’re friends, m’not his girl.”

“Hey, Hev!” Sara ducks her head, watching out of her peripheral as Art jogs over, racket in hand, pushing up onto the fence so he could be eye level with Heaven. “Match is about to start, kiss for good luck?” He grins, holding his racket handle out to her. He playfully pouts until she gives in, leaning forward and pressing her glossed lips to the handle, looking at Art through her lashes. The blond wets his bottom lip and pulls the racket back. “Eyes on me, okay?” 

“Whatever, just remember you promised me a win.” Heaven giggles, crossing her arms as she settles back into her seat. Art beams even wider, hopping down off of the fence and jogging backwards back to where the players sit. “And spit out your gum!”

Faintly, she could hear Art’s teammates reprimanding him for ‘making the rest of them look bad’ and she smiles to herself, bringing a hand up to play with her name chain.

“Girl.” Sara snorts.

“Just friends.”

“Yeah sure.” the blonde girl shrugs, pushing her shades back down. “Don’t tell me, tell Donaldson.”

Art delivers a win, as promised. It wasn’t hard, really. One thing Patrick had gotten right was that college kids weren’t really much competition. And maybe he had some very good motivation sitting out in the crowd with her eyes locked on him. So he showed off a little, served a little harder, made the other guy run a little bit more than necessary. He could always explain that away as wanting to impress his coach and any possible reps looking to endorse him. And sure, he might’ve looked over at her for each point he wrenched out of the poor guy from Temple’s hands but…well he didn’t have an excuse for that other than it gave him a rush knowing that she is sitting pretty, legs crossed, perched with the other girlfriends, watching him, rooting for him, breathing heavy for him. 

When matchpoint is declared his, Art smiles cockily, strolling up to the net and shaking hands with his opponent before making his way over to Heaven again, this time climbing completely over the fence, leaving behind his tennis bag on the opposite side of the court. This time she stands, catching him a little as he lands in the small space in front of her and the fence. “Well?” he pants, lifting his hat to adjust his hair before placing it back on his head. 

“Well, what? You want me to say congratulations?” Heaven grins, sweeping some sweat that dripped from his forehead off of his cheek. “Congratulations, Arthur.” she hums.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” Sarah calls from her seat, smiling smugly up at the pair. “Good job, Donaldson. Why don’t you try to pass some of that mojo to Myles, huh? Getting kinda tired of coming out to these things just to watch you play.”

“I’ve got a lucky charm, that’s all.” Art nudges Heaven, wrapping an arm around her waist so she doesn’t stumble too far away from him.

“Yeah, so, lucky, or the other guy sucks and Art is good-”

“No, I think you’re my lucky charm, don’t try to ruin it-” Art laughs, taking his hat off again, his messy blond hair falling all over as he places it on Heaven’s head, holding her to him as she squirms.

“Ew, Arthur, it's sweaty!”

“It’s the fruit of my labor, Hev, that win was for you!”

Sarah scoffs, shaking her head as she watches the pair, leaning away to avoid getting hit when Art lifts Heaven, swinging her to the opposite side of him to help her get to the steps before grabbing her bags. As she sees him guide her by her waist down the bleachers, both of them cheesing as they chat as if no one else was there and she realizes that Art is leaving the courts before his fellow teammates play, Sarah commends her own instincts.

And then she makes a note to herself to start saving the returning girlfriend seat next to hers for Heaven. The other girls were sort’ve bitches, anyway.

“So, I should head back.” Heaven leans back against the driver door of her car, clasping her hands together behind her. “But, this got my mind off of things for a little, so thank you.”

“It’s what friends are for.” Art laughs, stepping in front of her, hand behind his neck.

“Pft, you’re such a dick. Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?”

“I am nice.” he smiles, rocking on his feet, feeling his chest tighten as Heaven bites her rose petal bottom lip again. His eyes soften as he stares down at her delicate features and thinks about how right things feel when they’re together. How he hasn’t felt this good in…ever. “So nice, I’m not gonna say what I want to say. I’m just gonna say,” he takes her hand gently, toying with her fingers, pushing her thumb with his own, “goodnight.”

Heaven’s lips part, and looking up into his eyes, how kindly he looks down at her. What she can see in them almost does it. She almost got lost, just like that. But a buzz in her jacket pocket has her grabbing her phone and the message has her taking a small step backward and placing her hand on her door handle. “Goodbye, Art.”

“One two three, one two three, and Peter please keep up with Heaven, Heaven a little less hatred on your face, thank you, two three and up, I want her in the air-” Madame Fontaine claps her hands to the pace of the movements she wants from her two leads, following them as they move across the floor. Heaven holds her breath as she’s lifted into the air for two counts before she’s slid down Peter’s body, draping herself across him romantically as he kneels to accommodate her. “Yes, that is exactly it. Now kiss.”

Heaven feels herself wince, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels Peter’s lips press against hers.

“Still doesn’t look good, Madame.” Fallon calls from her seat. 

“No, no it doesn’t, does it? You two, what’s the issue, tu veux m'humilier et me faire me suicider ou quoi?”

“No, Madame,” Heaven huffs, swatting Peter’s hand away from her waist. “We don’t want to humiliate you or make you kill yourself, I don’t understand why we have to do the version with the kiss, there are plenty of variations without it-”

“You understood her?” Peter squints at the girl next to him before huffing, “Fine, whatever, MacMillan intended for there to be passion between Romeo and Juliet, and you curl your lip up everytime I kiss you.”

“I don’t like doing it.” Heaven shrugs. “I’m a professional dancer, not a porn star, and I’m playing a 15 year old girl, I don’t know why any sane, adult audience would want to watch me lay on top and kiss a grown man and then kill myself to be with him-”

“We open tonight. We are doing the ballet as we rehearsed, you two will kiss and you will tolerate it. Practice if you must, pretend he’s someone else, take a shot before you do it, I don’t care.”

“Madame, we’re 19.”

“Oh please.” The older woman storms off, her assistant behind her and the two dancers are left side by side. 

“So…should we practice?”

“Absolutely fucking not, thank you very much.” Heaven pushes past Peter, snatching her dance bag from the floor. “You’re gonna practice until your knees bleed for the next hour and then you’re gonna soak in the athletic building so you’re actually ready for tonight and I’m gonna go…I don’t know, pray.” 

As Heaven storms away, dramatically slamming the theater door behind her, she can recognize she was in a bitchy mood. She felt like she had a lot of shit to be annoyed about and was frankly pissed to feel her world collapsing around her on the first night of her first college role in which she’s the fucking prima. 

First, she once again demonstrated to herself that she has absolutely no fucking self control when it comes to Art Donaldson, a truth that she’s learned about herself that really agitates her. She discovered this as she struggled into the routine of only responding to the blond every couple of days and found herself sitting up in the privacy of her own dorm, reading and rereading every message she sent, the bright light of her phone shining brightly on her shame.

Second, she still hadn’t heard from her boyfriend (ex?), Patrick. She’d watched a couple of his matches while she was on the treadmill at the gym and as he does, he wins the first two rounds only to lose in the third. He found time to get lazy in his tennis playing but failed to pick up his goddamn phone and call either of his girlfriends.

Which leads to the third thing haunting her. Tashi is fucking irritable as shit. Apparently, surgery does not agree with her, because Tashi had been crabby for the last few days. It started with the day of Art’s match when she’d sent her perfectly timed message. 'Did he win?' It was like she was taunting her. Like Tashi knew Heaven couldn't stay away. It pisses Heaven off even more that she was right. Then Tashi had moved on to venting about how Patrick was absolutely wasting his talent, how the fact that he’s not winning pisses her off even more now that she can’t play. How she’s going pro as soon as she gets the chance because if this injury told her anything, it was that there was no time to wait. How now that she’s got time on her hands, she’s been thinking more about her plan for her life and Heaven’s.

And lastly, the real kicker, what had Heaven gritting her teeth as she did bar warmups this morning, was that fucking phone call. The one from her mother that she received at 5:00am when she was stretching. The one where her mother said she wouldn’t be able to make it to her first night of her first ballet in college in which she’s the fucking prima. And when she expressed her disappointment, Beatrice responded ‘It’s just a school ballet, I’ll come to your first professional one.’ 

So, yep, she was in a shitty fucking mood. 

But she wouldn’t let all of that stop her debut as an adult dancer. She was going to be a pro, she was going to do it her way, even if the 5 seats she had reserved in the front row were empty. 

So, she sits at the vanity backstage, putting her hair into Juliet’s first hairstyle. She listens to music that reminds her of when she was 15 to get into the right headspace as she puts blush on her cheeks. She offers Peter a soft smile when she sees him in his costume and forces herself to try to look at him the right way. Because the things that are pissing her off don’t matter right now. Right now, all there is is Juliet.

It doesn’t matter if Heaven’s smile is fake as the lights shine down on her when she first prances her way onto the stage. Juliet’s smile is real. It’s meaningless if Heaven’s tears are real when she squints and sees that her mother’s seat is indeed empty, her stepfather attempting to send her a thumbs up to distract from the woman’s absence. And so what, if Heaven can’t go to her happy place as she solos because she sees both Patrick and Tashi’s seats are empty as well. As long as she can still breezily get through her motions, as long as it looks beautiful for the crowd, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter.

And it definitely doesn’t matter, that as she came out of her fake balcony in her sleep gown to blow everyone’s minds with the most loving, fucking passionate pas de deux they’d ever seen, she accidentally caught eyes with Art in the audience, staring up at her intensely. 

So she doesn’t have to feel guilty that when she kissed Peter, she envisioned him with curly blond hair and heterochromatic eyes. Or the fact that Madame Fontaine told her when she stepped off stage to change into her next costume that it was the most romantic, realistic kiss she’d ever seen.

Does Art know he's stupid? Absolutely. He's never dared call himself intelligent. He didn't need the little voice that sounds like Patrick calling him pussywhipped. He knows. But, he still found himself on the highway, traveling at a breakneck speed, eyeing the bouquet of flowers that he has placed in the seat.

He'd known Heaven was serious about this whole friend thing. She's so good, and kind. And she cares so much about Tashi and Patrick. But Art knows he can treat her better. He's sure of it. Despite what he knows to be true, Art refuses to pressure her...anymore. He'd just rely on the fact that if they were supposed to be together like he believed they should be, they would be. Eventually. Soon. Hopefully.

So he came fully ready to play the dutiful friend. He was gonna stand politely by as Heaven leapt into Patrick's arms after the show. Art was gonna smile politely as she and Tashi shared kisses and exchanged giggles as they talked about inside jokes that they only understood. But then he got there. He'd been directed to the front where the two premier dancers families were arranged to sit and found three empty seats separating him from a man with peppered hair and smart looking glasses who had his own bouquet of flowers across his lap and a Chanel gift bag next to his feet. As he inches into his seat the man looks at him with a smile.

"You must be Patrick. I'm Heaven's stepfather, Luca Whitlock, I'm sorry I missed you at her birthday." The older man holds his hand out to Art with a kind smile. "Nice to meet you."

Art offers him his own awkward grin, accepting the tight squeeze of the man's hand. "Uh, no, I'm Heaven's friend, Art. It's really nice to meet you Mr. Whitlock."

"You as well." The man lifts his wrist to check his watch. "Show is meant to start in a few minutes, hopefully he will be here shortly. Stellina won't like for her boyfriend to be late.

Art shifts uncomfortably again, checking his phone. Patrick had reached out to him a couple days after Tashi's injuries. Mostly to make insults thinly veiled as jokes, clearly still pissed that he yelled at him. Art responded with short, one worded messages.

It's the least they'd ever spoken since they'd met.

The guilt he feels for his part in this fight they were having is very real. But it was currently heavily outweighed by his annoyance at the fact that his friend was seemingly punishing Heaven by not showing up for her big night. He knew Patrick didn't deserve her, and he was only proving his point.

"Is Tashi with Mrs. Whitlock or..."

"Oh, my, my wife couldn't make it. And Tashi is still...healing. Her mother called right before I was supposed to pick her up."

Oh. "Oh."

As much as he's glad he could be here for Heaven, he knows that Tashi and her mother being there would mean more. His heart aches for her as he settles back into his seat and the lights dim. The pain he feels for her only intensifies when he sees her step out onto the stage. She's beautiful. The perfect Juliet. If anyone would make a man fall in love within a few glances, ready to die at the thought of not being with her, Heaven would be it.

Her eyes are sad as she eyes the empty seats, using them as a tragic point of focus as she completes her expert turns. Behind him he could hear people whispering about how gorgeous the girl playing Juliet was, how talented she is. All Art can think is that they have no idea. They don't know how she's managing to be so elegant, so beautiful, so perfect, even as she's in the type of pain she's in.

Art would do anything to bring the light back into her eyes so they would shine the way the rest of her was.

He loves her.

He knows it. He feels it as her eyes finally make their way to his seat and her smile is a little more real. A little bit of light slips back into her eyes. She dances even more beautifully, more genuinely than before. And his mind is filled with the same thought.

Yes baby, that's right. Eyes on me. I'll make it better. I'll make you happy.

And he means it. Friends or not. Lovers or not.

It's on Heaven's first night of her first ballet in college where she's the fucking prima ballerina that Art makes a vow to himself.

He was gonna dedicate himself to Heaven Whitlock's happiness. No matter what that meant.

3 Years Later (California)(Age: 22):

Tashi shakes her head to herself as she watches Art pace in the kitchen. She brings her coffee to her lips, blowing at the smoke slowly as she observes him from the couch, taking a small sip before setting the mug loudly on the glass coffee table. She rolls her eyes when he doesn’t stop his steadily paced steps across the floor.  “You good?”

The blond finally pauses to look at her, jaw clenching and unclenching before he opens his mouth to speak. “This is just different, you know?”

“How? It’s still tennis.” 

“It’s pros, Tashi, I’m just nervous.” Art says, running his hand through his blond curls. “These guys are good.”

“You’re fucking good.” She asserts, crossing her arms. “Look, I can’t make you believe in yourself. If you can’t do this, please, let me know now, because I need to know if you’re not going to make this happen. We have a deal.” 

Art sighs, planting his hands down on the counter, staring down at the scattered marble with a frown as he tries to get out of his head. Suddenly, he feels a hand slide across his back and an envelope lands on the counter between his hands, into his line of sight.

“Something for you to consider while you decide if you’re gonna fuckin’ play like I know you can.”

With that, Tashi storms out, heels clicking on the hotel room floor and the door beeping as it slams shut behind her. Art stares down at the envelope, reading and rereading the name of the sender.His heart both clenches and races as he thinks about what the 4 little words on the small, insignificant piece of paper could mean for him. How those 4 words and whatever they’re hiding behind them will ruin his life. 

The Paris Opera Ballet

[updownlately]

no, you don’t have to hide (the things you feel inside, i feel too)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 1.3k | a/n: heard 'lonely eyes' by lauv for the first time today and i got obsessed. whipped up a tiny little h/c fic based on the song! if you want the full effect of the fic (imo) listen to the song as you read! (it's linked above :)) sorry for slightly depressing content, im in a mood.... but anyways, happy reading!

~~~

"i don’t mean to be rude there’s things in myself that i see in you lonely eyes she had those lonely eyes i only know ‘cause i have them too lonely eyes no, you don’t have to hide the things you feel inside, i feel too ‘cause i’m lonely just like you ‘cause i’m lonely just like you"

-

“Had you not moved your arm a few seconds ago, I swear I would’ve called an ambulance or something…”

The words came from the blonde stood above you, her voice teasing yet cautious, softly testing the waters as she took in your sprawled out state in the middle of the training field.

It was much, much past the time practice had ended, Leah’s rehab session what brought her to stay after, to be there to notice your crumpled form on the pitch. 

You, who was still in your training gear, a light hoodie on you however, limbs sprawled out save for your left arm, which was haphazardly slung across your face, hiding your eyes. 

Your hum of response barely audible, had the midfielder’s eyebrows furrowing in worry, head tilting to the side as she crouched down beside you.

“Hey, you okay?”

The gentle words caused you to smile wryly, bloodshot eyes hidden underneath the protective cover of the crook of your arm as you did your best to make your voice sound normal.

Clearing your throat as nonchalantly as possible, you took a deep breath before speaking out. 

“Yeah….why wouldn’t I be?”

Sighing at how you were clearly not okay, the tear tracks on your cheeks very much visible in the setting rays of the sun, Leah shook her head to herself. 

You were stubborn- she very much knew it from having had the privilege of playing with you for the better part of the past season, and if there was one thing she definitively learned about you, it was that you hesitated to show any excess emotions, much rather choosing to let out whatever it may be on the pitch.

Right now though? Right now you looked utterly exhausted, the lack of games clearly taking its toll on you. 

Stretching her neck, Leah decided to take her chances at getting through to you, at least enough so that whatever it was you were feeling right now disappeared, her only goal at the moment to make you feel better. 

Gently tossing her water bottle a few feet away from where the pair of you were, Leah took a seat beside you, leaving a considerable gap so as to not make you uncomfortable.

Legs extended out as she stretched them, the blonde watched as your chest rose unevenly, almost as if she could hear each shaky breath as it escaped you, you still hellbent on trying to claim you were doing alright. 

“You can tell me you’re fine but it doesn’t mean I have to believe it…”

The words were hushed, just whispered quietly enough to stay between you two, even though no one else was around to hear it. 

The blonde eyed you warily though, her eyes scanning your face as she saw you register the words. 

Watching keenly, she saw you clench your jaw impossibly tight, shoulders tensing, you swallowing hard at the words as your breathing stilled for a second until you realized how you had frozen and quickly picked it back up again. 

“You might be doing a good job of hiding it, at least from the others, but- and I don’t mean to be rude- but there’s things in myself that I see in you…and those things aren’t fun, at least in my experience.”

You didn’t realize it, but you found yourself nodding subconsciously at the words, a part of you relieved that your mind wasn’t the only one this messy. 

Seeing the way your head moved had the Gunner beside you smiling slightly, glad to see your walls crumbling ever so slightly. 

Pausing to see if you would say anything, Leah patiently waited, head turning as she gazed around at the scenery around you two, bathing in the calmness of Mother Nature as she gave you a minute or so to collect yourself. 

So caught up in watching a baby bird as it shakily flew from one branch of a tree to another, Leah was pleasantly jolted out of her reverie by your faint voice, your words lowly mumbled, as your arm came to move down from your eyes, revealing your bloodshot eyes to Leah, your gaze not meeting hers one bit as you looked up into the pinking sky above.

“It- it sometimes gets loud, y’know?”

Your hesitant tone, coupled with the tired words and red eyes had the skipper’s heart quietly breaking, well aware of what you were referring to.

Staying silent to urge you to continue, the blonde leaned back on her elbows, humming near soundlessly, 

“The voices up there, they just don’t stop. I wish they did so bad, but they don’t…”

A bubble of comfort took over the both of you at the words, the breeze blowing between as you basked in the freeing relief of being understood.

It just so happened that the blonde unfortunately knew exactly what you were referring to- the little voice, sometimes voices, that never stopped. Reminding you of each mistake in a game, each misspoke or awkward pause in your conversations. Voices that held the weight of the fans’ emotions, their expectations, their disappointment, each and every criticism ever uttered into existence, all meshed into a voice that followed her everywhere, not a moment of reprieve, as the assault battered her down day by day, no matter how hard she pushed through it. 

Nodding in understanding, breathing deeply as she felt herself feel seen, Leah exhaled softly before speaking.

“I wish I could tell you it gets better, but I can’t promise that…”

Her words hung in the air as you felt another wave of emotions cross you, the sentiment not really what you expected nor wanted to hear at the moment. 

Eyes tearing up at the admission, exhaustive frustration seeping into your bones, you sunk deeper into the grass beneath you, too afraid of the hurricane of emotions within you to speak up. 

Doing your best to hold it together, you willed the tears to not fall, keeping your eyes open for as long as possible so that they’d dry out faster, hoping the unshed tears would disappear. 

You were almost successful too, nearly getting a grasp on your emotions, before you heard shuffling from the girl beside you, feeling your arms brush as you just barely tilted your head to the side, watching from the corner of your eye as Leah settled down beside you, joining you in laying down.

Feeling her body warmth near you, you took a shuddering breath, the heavy weight of being alone earlier slowly rising from your chest as breathing became a tad bit easier. 

“What I can tell you- no, promise- what I can promise you is that I’ll be here beside you through it all if you’ll have me. We don’t even have to talk if you want. If you want someone to sit beside you when your mind gets a little too loud, your heart a little too heavy? I can do that. You don’t have to do it alone…I rather you not, to be honest.”

Lips turning ever so slightly as you closed your eyes, head nodding microscopically, you took in a deep sigh, flexing your jaw as your lungs loosened, the weight not completely off your chest just yet, but just enough that you believed for a second, for a moment, that maybe things could be alright.

“I think I’d like that…”

And when Leah intertwined your hands together, letting them rest between your bodies as you watched as the pink sky slowly molded into orange and then purple as the sun finally set, you took the chance to look over at her, her eyes meeting yours at the sound of your movement, two pairs of lonely eyes recognizing your shared emotions, any differences pushed aside as you stripped down to nothing but understanding and relief- grateful to find someone just like you, to be there for you. 

[junedenim]

put your heavy metal to the test

part one part two

if you're fucking him, you might as well take advantage of it

warnings: smut, fluff, facefucking, sex toy, piv

word count: 4.8k

It's Elizabeth's birthday on Friday. This means two things: an office party & a drinking party.

"Do you not want me to go?" Alex asks. He's in your kitchen making breakfast. Repeat: he's in your kitchen making breakfast. These things have started to sneak up on you increasingly—this pattern of waking up in his arms and making breakfast on weekends. 

You shrug with your cup of coffee. "You can do whatever you want." That tiptoeing-around habit has continued. There has been no addressing of what this is other than the fact that it's happening and you both want it to happen. 

He chuckles as he butters his near-burnt toast. "I know that. She's your friend and I don't want to overstep on your night out."

"Well." You lean over the counter, your arms prop up your boobs showcasing your cleavage on a full display for his eyes to look directly at. "Who's gonna take me home after a long night?"

Alex raises his eyebrows with a smirk. "You want me to?"

You stand from the barstool and walk over to the sink to empty your cup. "There's plenty of options."

You start to walk to your bedroom when his arms wrap around you tightly. "Who? Gunner?" You try to escape but his grip only grows tighter. You're laughing and it's too much but you decide to enjoy a moment when his touch is friendly and means nothing more than a laugh instead of some goal of pleasure. It's too much and just enough.

*

Elizabeth's birthday cake is a vanilla sheet cake bought by Ed at the grocery store down the street. It looks pretty and tastes shitty but it's the effort that counts and Ed is probably the best boss you've ever had (maybe, second best, but the other one gets disqualified for unfair advantages). 

You're sitting in a little group of people eating a slice of cake when Alex sits next to you with a mouthful of cake. "Got enough there?" You ask him. He sticks his tongue with a dusting of his chewed-up food. "Ew."

"Alex," Elizabeth calls from a few seats over. "You're joining our little party tonight, right?"

He nods, swallowing his piece. "That was the plan."

"Fantastic!" She cheers. "Everyone has to buy me a drink, well, unless you got a present for me. Your present is a drink for me."

"Okay."

With the group distracted and returning to their conversation, you lean over and whisper to Alex, "Or you could go halvesies on my gift?"

He looks over, all serene. You don't understand how he doesn't stare at himself in the mirror all day like Narcissus. "Are we at the stage in our relationship where we're gifting things as a couple?"

You giggle softly, covering your mouth. "Elizabeth would rip my hair out if that happened."

"Why?" 

"Because she's in love with you."

His jaw becomes slightly agape. "What?"

You stare at him, searching for a sign of trickery. "You can not be that clueless. You're pulling my leg."

He shakes his head.

"Seriously? She stares at you all the time."

"Well, my eyes are busy elsewhere." His browns stare clearly at you.

You roll your eyes. "She's been into you since before all our stuff."

"My eyes have been busy since before all our stuff."

You laugh. "You're full of shit."

He turns away and looks at the last crumbs of his slice of cake. "Maybe you're the clueless one. Did you ever think that?"

You point your plastic fork at him. "No, because you're lying."

"I'm an honest man." He sighs and stands with an empty plate. "Happy birthday, Elizabeth. I'll see you later tonight."

"You're leaving already?" She frowns. "Come on, Ed gave us an extended break for a reason."

Alex waves her off. "I have to work on some things with Ed. I'm lucky he gave me long enough of a break to eat a slice of cake."

"He works you too hard."

"Yeah, well, I like it. Have a good one, you guys." You've learned that Alex works too much. You told him you think he's going to have a heart attack one day for the emphasis he places on work in his life. He told you he doesn't know how to function without it. You told him that sounded sad and he should find ways to relieve that stress. Then, he fucked you and said that was his stress relief. And you said that was good enough.

*

He sits next to you at the bar, which should be suspicious to your co-workers but no questionable looks are shot in your direction. He's smooth in every way. He shaved this morning and he moves in such a way that you can only call smooth. He moves his hands smooth. He talks smooth. He kisses smooth.

When he put his lips on you outside the bar you could have slapped him because he tempts fate too much and you swear he is trying to get you both fired. But he molds himself to you, shoves his hand into the curve of your back, and doesn't let go for a second. He smiled when he pulled away and you couldn't do anything to that poor face of his. So lovely to look at and so loving in return. He's becoming too sweet and anyone who squinted could see the truth. His thigh rubbing up against yours and you laughing too hard at his dumb jokes but they keep hushed and you hope it stays that way (at least for now).

Elizabeth is double-fisting drinks and she sips one and then the other. You're drinking but you don't want to get drunk because you want to end the night cognizant with Alex. Elizabeth has other ideas...

"Chug your beer with me. Come on! Come on!" She urges. 

You wave her off. "I'm good. But I'll watch you."

She whines. "No fun! Alex!" She grabs a hold of his hand from across the table. "You drink with me. Come on! Come on!"

Alex chuckles, amused by the display. He pats her hand and then pulls away, wrapping his hand around his cold glass, caressing it with such care you're jealous of it. "I'm the kind of guy who likes to savour his drinks."

"Boo! No fun you two!" She slurs. Being referred to in a pair gives you tingles. A thing in which you wish to be shoved away through the numbness of alcohol. Feeling it in private is one thing but suffocated in a crowd of people you feel as if your skin could fall off. That you're exposed and they can see right through you with their feelings X-ray scanner. Maybe you're just paranoid.

Elizabeth leans forward, completely intoxicated with liquor and infatuation. "So, Alex, I've heard about this big project you have. I'll admit I'm jealous I don't get to work on it." She's jealous of you for working with him...she's going to kill you if she ever finds out.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you announce.

"Okay!" Elizabeth says, all happy and perky for alone time with Alex. 

Should you feel jealous? Probably not, you've always been told jealousy isn't a good emotion. It's weird. You feel an obligation to be jealous but you aren't. Maybe it's because you and Alex are just fooling around in a highly sophisticated we-aren't-going-to-do-this-with-anybody-else-except-each-other-but-we-are-totally-not-a-couple kind of way. Maybe because you know he won't do anything. Elizabeth has been throwing yourself at Alex since she started working here and nothing has come of it. What's the difference now? He's so blase toward anything that it's obvious when he is interested in something.

Like when he walks into the women's restroom.

"What are you doing here?" You're washing your hands and he's by the door, chest pumped out and so heroic-looking with a smolder you could laugh.

"I thought we were..." He gestures between the two of you.

"We were?" You implore him to finish as you wipe your hands clean. 

His head drops. 

You laugh. "No, I actually did just have to go to the bathroom."

"Well, since I'm here..." Alex trails off for you to get the idea again.

You finish, "Fuck you? No, not really."

"Okay," he accepts. He looks around examining the stalls and sinks as you watch on. "Do you want to leave now and go do it?"

"And have everyone watch us leave together? No thanks." You say as you toss the paper towel.

"We've done it before." He's moving forward suggestively and you'd take a step back if you weren't so into it. Into him.

You move past him, brushing shoulders like it's the greatest romance, something Austenian. "And we won't be repeating." 

He moves backward, blocking your exit. "Fine. I'll leave saying I'm loaded with work and in a half hour, you'll say you have a headache and then you'll come to my place."

"I don't want to go to your place," you whine. You're being difficult but your place is closer to here and the drive home from Alex's is always annoying it almost makes you want to stay there forever (solely for driving purposes, nothing else).

"Then, we'll go to your place."

"But if you leave first you'll need a key."

"Then you go first."

"I don't want to leave yet."

"Then I'll use the key in the potted plant." A key you put there for Alex because nobody else visits enough to warrant a spare key.

"So, you're just going to mess about in my flat for 30 minutes."

He shrugs with his hands on his hips. "I'll find something to do."

You squint. "You're gonna snoop."

"You have no faith in me."

"Well, I know what I would do if you left me alone in your place for 30 minutes."

He laughs. "You wouldn't find much." His place generally carries a stark bareness to it.

"I'd find something. Everyone hides something."

"What do you hide?"

You roll your eyes. "You'll have no fun in your snooping if I tell you what I'm hiding."

He raises his eyebrows. "So, you want me to snoop?"

"I want to get out of this bathroom but you're trapping me in here. You're lucky no one has walked in."

"I'm a very lucky guy. You should know this." 

Something in his eyes makes flutter and an uncontrollable smile covers your face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs with a wide grin on his face and steps out of the way of the door. His face is endlessly endearing and you could leave if your body would let you but it would be a crime to leave without a simple kiss. 

You hold his left cheek, so smooth. You peck his lips. Twice, for a good measure. That grin is still irreplaceable and wider than ever. "Have fun putting your tampon in."

He just gives a light slap to your ass and lets you go. For now.

*

"I have a wicked headache." You place to palm of your hand on your forehead, cringing your eyes.

Alex chuckles on the other side of the opened door. It's weird having him open your flat's door. He claps his hands together. "Stellar acting. Destined for the stage."

You bow dramatically. "Thank you."

He opens the door more, letting you pass. You toss your purse on the couch, then your body. "It took some convincing. She nearly shoved two Advils down my throat before I was able to leave."

Alex sits beside you. "What about me? I thought my clothes were gonna have claw marks on them."

"Well," you sigh, "don't flatter yourself too much. She was all over Ben when I left."

He snaps his fingers. "Shucks."

You sniffle. "What's that smell?"

"I made dinner."

"You made me dinner?"

"I made me dinner. You came back earlier than I thought you would."

You're quick to grab your purse and smack him with it. He grabs your wrist, then your hips, guiding you to straddle him. You sit on top of him. You can feel him. His every move. Your hands lying on his shoulders. His light touch on your elbows. He kisses your hand and it feels like a holy blessing. Like you're the Pope and he's kissing your ring. 

"Did you snoop?"

"I snooped."

"And?"

"You're boring." You erupt with laughter, laying your head on his shoulder. "I didn't look too hard anyway. I didn't want to invade your space."

"It's fine. I invited you to." But you don't mind how caring he is. How gentle he is as his fingertips brush down your clothed spine.

"Okay. I guess that helps because I did find your vibrator."

You hit his chest with your hands. "Ew. Don't talk about that."

"You told me to snoop!"

"Whatever. It's a common thing. Every girl has one in their drawer. We have to use it because guys never get the job done," you reason.

Alex brags, "I get the job done."

"Don't be cocky. I could be faking it."

"Okay," he easily accepts. Maybe because it isn't believable in the slightest. 

"You're being cunning. If you think we're going to do some sex thing with it you're out of luck because it's out of batteries."

"Oh, so if it's out of batteries then how are you able to use it after you're done with me."

You pull away from him, standing up, your heels clunking on the floor. "Stop it! That is a personal item. I don't talk to you about your sex toys."

"Mine's just my hand and I'm not really using it much as of late."

You cross your arms. "So, I'm your sex toy. I should be paid."

He raises his eyebrows. "You want to be my prostitute?"

You think about it. "Fair point. Pay me with dinner."

"They're your ingredients anyway."

You shake your head. "No, I mean, take me out to dinner."

"Now?"

"No!" You giggle. "Like this weekend or something. On a date," you clarify. You've slept with the guy. Why are you nervous about a date? 

Alex nods and gives you a crooked smile. "Okay."

"You're being cunning again."

"Fuck yeah. You've been blue balling me all night."

You purse your lips. "You haven't exactly returned the favour."

"You have your vibrator for that."

"Oh, okay, sure. I'll just grab some batteries." You make a point, marching over to grab your TV remote and popping it out. He follows you to your bedroom where you stuff them into your vibrator. You turn around, staring at him standing at the edge of your bed. "If you don't mind, we'd like some time alone."

He toots a laugh. "Nice try. Now put the vibrator down and let me fuck you."

"But the vibrator hits me just right," you taunt, all pouty and flirty.

His steps are controlled but powerful. You can feel his shoes thud on the floor and his gaze is controlling like he's mind-controlling you to put the vibrator down. Your grip stays steady even as his hand rounds your back and pulls you closer and closer until his lips are on you. 

"Your vibrator do this?" He teases. Your boobs are pressed against his chest and his hand is pushing your head closer to his, keeping you in a kiss. 

"They're very advanced these days," you mutter against his lips. 

He's kissing you tight and harder. Your knees buckle against your bed as you fall back onto the bed. In some chaos of tugging on clothes before pulling them fully off, Alex takes the vibrator out of your hand. He's kissing you again, distracting you. Your hand travels down the space in between your bodies and you're reaching out, rubbing your hand against his cock.

"How badly do you want me in your mouth?"

"You're presumptuous," you joke.

But he's clearly not in a joking mood as he stops your hand from moving around him. He reiterates, "How bad do you want it?" 

"Badly," you tell him. 

You can tell Alex wants to tease you more, but he's getting too worked up for verbal foreplay, so he stands up, tugging your head along with him. He grabs you by the throat and pulls you closer, so your head is dangling upside down off the bed, and then roughly shoves his cock down your throat.

"There you go," he taunts, thrusting into your mouth with brutal force. It only takes three hits to the back of her throat for you to gag on his cock, choking on its thickness. He pulls back just long enough for you to catch a breath before he pushes back in. "You fucking love it, don't you?"

You gurgle around him, trying to breathe through your nose as the pace of his pumps picks up. You do love it and wish you didn't have a gag reflex, so you could take all of him without needing a break, but he told you once before he loves it when you choke on him. 

He slows his thrusts down a bit and leans forward, palming your breasts. He plays with your nipples knowing how much you love when he does that, especially when you're in a position like this. Your squeak of surprise is muffled by his cock before it turns into moans of pleasure when he grabs a tit, roughly massaging it with his callused hands. He starts to pick up his rhythm again. Your body jerks at the action and he makes sure to shove down extra hard in response. After a few minutes of toying with your tits, his hand travels further down, running a finger through you. "Look at you, so wet for my cock already. You want it so badly, I can't believe you didn't fuck me in the bathroom. You love doing that shit, dirty girl."

You can't get any words out, but you jerk your hips up, trying to get his fingers to press harder or go into you or just do something. You're wet and aching for him. He lets his fingers slip through you a few times, making sure to avoid your clit, before he pulls away from her completely. Without thinking, you bring your hand to your pussy to replace his, but he immediately slaps it away.

Alex asks, "You want me to leave?" You shake your head. "Then, don't play with yourself."

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before turning you around. He climbs up onto the bed and urges your legs apart so he can kneel between them. The heel of his hand presses against your clit as his fingers slip through you, finding your entrance and pushing two fingers into you with ease. 

He fingers you for a few moments before leaving you empty. He positions you properly and lines himself up before plunging into you.

"Jesus," he grunts. He stays inside of you for a moment to gather himself, before he pulls out and slams back into you once, twice, three times, until he's started a steady rhythm of pumps. He pushes on his toes, bending you further, giving him an even steeper angle to pound into you. He stretches, his thighs slapping against her ass loudly with each hit, before it's too much of a strain on his muscles to fuck you at this angle. 

He stops and palms your ass cheeks and brings you closer to him. You hear the buzz and can't help but roll your eyes even if you're begging for any pleasure. "Seriously?"

"You want me to stop?" He's playing with you. Dangling a carrot in front of your face and yanking it away in an instant. You're not going to tempt fate.

"No," you answer, trying to rock against him, desperately wanting him to start up again.

He presses the toy against you and you have a hard time holding yourself up. Your arms bucking and taking your face down to laying against a pillow. He bends a little at the knees so his cock is level with your cunt, and then shoves his length into you again until they meet with a smack. He squeezes your ass cheeks roughly before sliding them down your lower back, pulling your body closer to meet every one of his thrusts with as much force as possible. 

"Oh, oh fuck," you whimper, you start to clench around him as he holds the vibrator on your clit and bucks into you. You're impressed by his ability to do both at the same time while you can't even hold yourself up. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."

"Come on my cock," he tells you, his hips becoming frantic as he gets closer as well. "You fucking come on my cock. Then, I'm coming in you."

It's all you need to hear before you let go, letting your orgasm hit you in waves. You shake against him. He is still pounding into you through it, and holding the vibrator intensely onto you. Just as you start to come down, you feel him swell against the vice grip you have on him, before he lets go too, spilling into you.

His head falls into the slope of your back but he holds steady with the vibrator on you until you whack at his hand. "Too much," you cry. He looks tempted to push back but he shuts the device off before collapsing onto his back on the side of the bed that is looking more and more like his side of the bed. 

You fall on your stomach. Both of you just lie there in thought, trying to find something that will ease the shaking of your thighs and Alex's shallow breathing. "Fuck," you hear him mumble.

You make a sound in agreement but can't figure out how to do more. You feel as though you've been rewired. You feel his touch on your arm before he yanks you over into his arms. You groan, already feeling sore.

He kisses your temple before he gets up from the bed and disappears into the bathroom, returning with a towel. Loving and tender after rough and unforgiving.

*

It's late and you're in his arms and you feel as delicate as you ever have and feel like you can say anything and he would still hold you in his arms. "I think you should present the project on Monday," he tells you.

You pull your head back. "What?"

"It's really your project. I only supervised and, god knows, Jeff did nothing. It's your thing and I don't think I could—anyone could—explain the project as well as you do."

"That's a big thing."

"I'll practice with you."

"But to present to corporate and all of them. Isn't it out of character for someone like me to do that?"

"Ben has done it before." Ben is higher up than you so it's not exactly an equal comparison. 

You lift your head up to look him in his eyes and directly ask, "Are you doing this—"

He closes his eyes and tosses his head to the side. "God, don't even say that. That's two steps away from me trading sex for raises."

"Sorry."

"It's fine but it has nothing to do with that. You're brilliant," he says so earnestly you almost believe it.

"Sure," you say doubtfully.

He shakes his head and tugs you closer. "You'll see. You're the smartest person I've ever met."

You laugh. "You don't have to bullshit me now."

"No bullshitting. All those guys, Ed, corporate are a bunch of showoffs but you. You're like smart smart. Booksmart, streetsmart, emotionally intelligent. We're a bag of nothing."

"You're the smartest person I've ever met. No bullshit."

"I don't believe you."

"That's fine. That doesn't mean it isn't true."

*

On Monday morning, he kisses you in the middle of the breakroom. It's the closest you've come to nearly exposing whatever this is. It's much more risky than his office and a crowded city street. "Too much, Al," you tell him.

"I'm proud of you," he says. His thumb rubs against the corner of your lips, removing the kiss dribble. "Aren't I allowed to be proud of you?"

"You kiss everyone you're proud of?"

"Yeah, why do you think Ed and I take so long after meetings?"

"Ew!" You push him away from you, sharing a laugh between you.

The breakroom door swings open and Elizabeth walks in. It's alarming how unwilling you both are to move away from each other but she's distracted by her own cheer. "How'd it go?" She exclaims.

"Oh, yeah, she was perfect," Alex boasts, leaning against a counter.

Elizabeth claps her hands. "Did we ever have any doubts?"

"No, never," he says sincerely. You make eye contact with him and he stands up straight. "Well, I should go."

"No rest for the wicked, huh?" Elizabeth says.

"Yeah."

When he leaves she turns to you with a smile. "You better get me on the next project. God, I wish he'd talk about me that way." She's dreamy. A schoolgirl gazing onward at her teacher with her immature crush. You don't feel guilty about you and Alex but you feel shame from hiding it from her as if you're leading her on in some kind of way. But she seems to have accepted the idea of her and Alex as a fantasy. There's doubt she'll accept Alex being a reality for you.

*

You go into his office later and he's quick to attack. His lips are on you and his hands are heavy on your back. "How fucking good were you?"

You push him back. "You've mentioned it before." Alex exchanges hasty, uncoordinated kisses with you. 

"Want me to fuck you?"

"Not here."

Alex whines, you've never heard him do that before. "Quick."

You laugh. "After my stellar performance, you want me to get caught sucking off my boss?"

He seems to think about it for a moment before nodding. "You have a point."

Your arms curl around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you whisper in his ear, "I'll fuck you at my place. We'll fuck the whole night."

"Yeah?"

You pull back with a head nod and a lip bite. "Yeah."

"That reminds me I have your spare key." He moves to pull it out from his bag.

You hold your hand up. "Keep it." He's there half the week. The other half you're at his. You're fucked.

"Keep it?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

*

You don't go back to your place first. He takes you to dinner first. It's nothing fancy but it's a nice enough place that doesn't need a reservation. You drink nice wine and talk about nothing in particular but none of it has to do with work. In some ways, it feels like a first date if you didn't already know so much about him; what moves him, what makes him laugh, what makes him tick. At the same time, you know so little; where he's from, why is he in this business, what hurts him. You suppose it's the same for him with you. 

You don't talk about those things. Too heavy for a first date and whatever else you are. You end up in the back of his car with the rain pelting down. You're under him, pushing off layers and wrapping yourself around him, mouth on his Adam’s apple like you mean to take a bite of it. Alex pushes the skirt of your dress up. It’s a messy thing, hasty, a necessity. You make these sounds, hitched gasps and keening moans, rolling your hips up to match the beat of whatever tune his making with the rhythm of his hips. 

You press a light kiss on the soft skin underneath his lips, and push his hand down further, placing his fingers on top of your core. You hiss from the coldness of his hands.

His cock moves in and out of you. It's slower than usual. You're unsure if it's from the tight setting you're in or the moment you're stuck in. It's more romantic than usual, even if you're stuffed into a tiny backseat. 

Alex is leaning over and pulling you, and covering your mouth with his, his soft lips swallowing your moan. You kiss softly for a few moments. He breaks, letting out, "Fuck." 

Finding the angle a bit difficult, he grabs your hips tilting them up more so he can drive into you better. He leans over you and connects your mouths, swallowing each other's moans again.

Your hands thread through his soft hair, massaging his scalp before they drop down to his back, your fingertips trailing delicately along his sweaty skin. You love feeling the muscles in Alex's back straining as he fucks you, the way they tense each time he thrusts his cock deep inside you, hitting you just where you need it, pulling him just where he needs it. Your chests are flush together. You can feel each other's hearts pounding, the redness in your skins turning to fire.

He smiles into your kiss as you hook your legs around him, digging your heels into his ass and pulling him deeper into you each time he barrels down. He can never seem to go deep enough, always wanting more, more, more.

He picks up his pace as he watches you, his hips rocking into you as you both edge closer and closer. "I'm so close," he moans, releasing your lip and opening his eyes to find yours. 

"Come for me," you urge.

You buck up into him, desperate to come but even more desperate for him to come. "Oh fuck," he cries out. His thrusts start to get jerky as you tighten around his cock.

He only lasts a few more thrusts before he lets go inside you, something habitual now. He moans as he empties himself, feeling you wrap your legs around his waist and lock him in place as he continues to spill. 

You feel yourself come undone and it's uncontrollable as you hold tight onto him, wanting to do everything possible to keep him close. "Fuck," he lets out like a statement. With a chuckle, he tells you, "We couldn't even make it back to your fucking flat."

*

a/n: so, i think this is a series now because i have like two ideas for two more parts so if you guys want it i'll do it. thanks!

[jflemings]

— our 32

pairing: kyra cooney cross x aussie!reader

synopsis: there’s nothing you’d rather do then watch your 32

warnings: none

a/n: starting off wip week with some kyra ❤️

it was pure coincidence that you had gotten a job helping run the arsenal women’s social media the same time kyra made her move to the powerhouse club. it was even more of a coincidence that the two of you had actually lived only suburbs apart in melbourne yet had never met.

from the moment kyra met you, she was completely and utterly obsessed. your kind hearted nature and welcoming aura had her in a trance and she would find herself being more open to filming content for arsenal’s social media despite sometimes feeling awkward doing it.

it was safe to say that her cheeky ways had charmed you pretty quickly and before you knew it she was asking you to dinner and a movie. the two of you bonded over your shared interests and she asked about a million questions regarding what your life was like up until that point, having complete genuine interest in each and every answer.

now almost five months later you sit surrounded by a sea of red and white watching arsenal beat chelsea in the conti cup final. you’re sitting near the bench, you and your friends chanting loudly as kyra gets the ball at her feet.

“nothing i’d rather do than watch our 32, kyra cooney cross! oi, oi, oi!” you shout whilst clapping along with the crowd, your best friend’s arm wrapping around your shoulder “when she’s on the ball she’s fucking magical, kyra cooney cross, oi, oi, oi!”

kyra hooks her foot around the ball, swiveling past chelsea’s back line effortlessly before crossing it. the pass is clean and on target, finding the feet of another red shirt. cheers erupt from the stadium but quickly turn to moans from the gooner end when the ball doesn’t find the back of the net.

the game plays out a similar way until stina puts one past hannah hampton, ultimately winning the trophy for the gunners for the second year in a row. arsenal fans are in hysterics, jumping, cheering and shouting ecstatically. you are quick out of your seat and cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice, your face quickly going red from the blood rushing to your face.

you quickly pull out your phone and make your way to the sideline to get some content of the team and staff celebrating. kyra quickly spots you and breaks out into a sprint, her arms thrown out and a wide grin present on her face. she throws her arms around you and lifts you off the ground laughing “i saw you cheering! i saw you saying my chant!”

you place your hands on her shoulders as she hoists you up further, crossing her arms under your bum “i pride myself on being the loudest for my thirty-two” you wink and smile at her, cupping her face “you played so well today baby”

“thank you for coming” she says softly as she places you down

“it’s my job to be here ky” you laugh “but i’d be here regardless”

looping an arm around your waist, she taps the badge on her shirt and begins to lean in, meeting you halfway to place a soft kiss on your lips. one hand falls from her face and finds itself on her collarbone, your fingertips curl just under the collar of her jersey “go get your medal star girl”

kyra smiles again and pulls you in for another kiss, subtly swiping her tongue along your bottom lip. her action makes you hyper aware of where you are and you’re quick to pull away, making your girlfriend pout as you push her in the direction of her team. her arm slides out from behind you and she kisses your cheek sloppily, running off with a cheeky grin.

“i love you” she yells, looking behind her and blowing you a kiss before she practically jumps on lessi, the two gunners laughing joyfully.

“whipped. so, so whipped” a voice speaks up from behind you. you turn to your left and see caitlin begin to walk past you with katie “soooooooo whipped” the australian drags out obnoxiously whilst pulling a face.

you swipe at her “leave me alone foord!”

[adimouze]

is this a safe space? i want to scream and shout and cry because that was HIS seat, his seat, his seat. But also. He’s no longer their lightning rod, he’s no longer the PR dream to hide behind, he will forever haunt their narrative at how they messed up, and he will always be Max’s equal. He’s not going to become a rear gunner for a team that didn’t love him enough to keep their promises to him, he’s not going to take heat off of them by being sweet and kind and funny. He’s not going to be the scapegoat for the ultimate decline they will face next year and the next.

i will tell myself to rest easy, because I know a year from now, Daniel’s decision to step away from the narrative will make perfect sense.