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redhairedwolfwitch · 1 year

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Alongside Her Goalie - Clàudia Pina x Reader

A/n: The next part from the Score A Goalie universe, since I burnt out from this series during the February international break, but if anyone has any ideas for anything, I am all ears/eyes. This is also very long and if you want linking to the previous parts, send an ask, hyperlinks still break the tags for fics.

///

None of the players at Atleti had been able to get a response from you since your message about a loan to Barcelona, and social media confirming your message as you confused fans to no end. With Cata Coll returning to training in December too, Barcelona was juggling five potential goalkeepers, and your contract dictated you get minutes or Atleti would recall you.

Atleti were scrambling to keep a hold on you, since Lola had re-signed with Atleti until 2026. As much as you loved Lola, you had drifted from your team mother, and were now stuck trying to get out of her shadow, your desire for minutes and not getting them was affecting your mental health.

Your mental health ended up being a reason that you had not been present at Atleti’s training leading up to Three Kings Day on September 6th, not that your loan was pending and you would be training at a more intense level at Barcelona, coming back from the break, and the fact that Barcelona were pushing you in a way that made your heart ache.

Whilst Clàudia was getting ready for the match against Sevilla, you were on the phone with Barcelona, organising how things would go in January. You needed to pick up some things from Madrid, and you didn’t want to impose on the shared home of Patri and Clàudia for too long, even as they both complained that you’d be lost in Barcelona without them.

So, currently, you were packing up what you needed from your place in Madrid to take to Barcelona, in the form of two large suitcases and a backpack. You froze as you glanced around your place for anything else, your eyes landing on the two photo frames. Wrapping each of the frames in a hoodie, you strategically packed them so they would not shatter on the journey back to Barcelona.

It would be weird, not wearing the Atleti logo or colours for a while, especially after wearing them for three seasons now. Running over the plaster on your left ring finger that Clàudia had put there after you gave her your gift from New York, you sat down on your couch, taking out your phone to finally do something you had been avoiding doing with your Atleti teammates.

They hadn’t made it easy to talk to last year, and you were in a time crunch before your flight back to Barcelona, but you still began to reply to their messages after checking that they were in fact heading to Tenerife for the away game and couldn’t reply immediately. Yes, you were still slightly avoiding them.

It was easier to talk after you went through the messages that you had been sent, but your heart still ached as you messaged Virginia, then Carmen, then finally Lola. Each had long paragraphs that you probably could have split up for easier reading, but you were busy wiping tears from your face, turning off plugs and making sure your fridge was completely empty before heading out to get to the airport.

You’d have to rush with your suitcases, but Barcelona had a home game against Sevilla later on in the evening and you had been invited to watch it with the injured players.

Biting your lip nervously as Clàudia and Patri went to get ready for the game, you were caught off guard as a hand tapped your shoulder, but Alexia’s smile was warm as she welcomed you, checking you were okay as she noticed how nervous you looked.

“I’m fine… just… need to turn this off before the game.” You replied, trying to avoid looking at your notifications as you turned your phone off, you small talked with Alexia as she led you to where the rest of the injured Barcelona players would be watching the game against Sevilla.

“What happened to your finger?”

“Pancake flipping accident.” A blatant lie, but you weren’t going to say the real reason why your left ring finger had a plaster on it, Clàudia had promised it was only temporary.

Hearing a quiet chuckle, you met Alexia’s gaze, you knew she didn’t believe what you said, but she didn’t press as the game began to begin.

“Where are you staying? With Pina and Patri?”

“Sí. I tried sleeping on the couch but Patri sat on me.” You didn’t elaborate as your focus was stolen by the game, watching intently as Clàudia had started the game, the rest of the injured players falling silent as everyone watched carefully.

You were practically vibrating with energy when Clàudia scored at the 34th minute, amusing Alexia, Caro and Jana who were sitting near you and able to see your excitement, and how tense you were when Clàudia had to take a penalty before the half-time break.

Your eyes widened as you spotted Sampedro, your former captain at Atleti before she left last year. You nervously waved to her as she was subbed off two minutes after Clàudia, Lucy and Mariona were subbed off.

You spent your Saturday night curled up with Clàudia, realising that you had left your car in Madrid when you got up Sunday morning to head to the Barcelona facility for check-ups before you could start to join official training.

“We’ll drive you.” Patri volunteered, making you raise an eyebrow but Clàudia shrugged, asking if you needed a road trip to get your car, or if you wanted it somehow to be delivered to Barcelona.

Whilst you were at your check-up, Atleti were at their away game against Granadilla Tenerife, a game that if you had been watching, would have sent you into an anxious flurry as Lola went down twice in the first half. The first time for a boot to the head, the second for her left hip.

You also didn’t see the Barcelona Femeni had updated their social media stories with a short video of you running on a treadmill, although your lack of Barcelona training kit was obvious, it told fans that you were starting your training at your loan team.

Clàudia found you sitting in the corridor later on, staring at your phone in thought. Sitting down next to you, you rested your head on her shoulder, letting out a tired breath.

“They’re not mad at me, just disappointed, upset and a few more adjectives describing their feelings towards me going on loan and not telling any of them-” you were cut off by a notification of a message, but you didn’t expect Jenni to message from Mexico, checking in on you and asking how you were doing.

Reading over your texts, you didn’t realise you were talking aloud but Clàudia kept quiet, listening to what each of those closest to you in Madrid had said and your replies.

“‘please pick up the phone, nobody has heard from you since before Christmas’… ‘sorry Vir, I’ll call when you’re free later?’

‘You could have talked to me’ you didn’t make it easy Lola, ‘I'm sorry, can I call you later?’

‘i’m always here for you, just be safe in Barcelona, call me any time’ thanks Carmen...

oh there’s another ‘please tell Lola you did not run away and get eloped’ well… we’re not eloped, so?” You smiled slightly, looking at Clàudia, who smiled back at you, her gaze drifting to the plaster on your finger.

Typing a reply to Jenni, you chewed your lip for a moment.

“Shall we take a proof of life photo?” Your joke made Clàudia frown for a moment until she realised what you were asking, taking your phone to hold up at a better angle, the two of you smiled at the camera.

“Hopefully, this photo, plus a ‘i am alive’ update will mean we have the rest of the afternoon to ourselves.” You murmured, uploading to your close friends instagram stories with ‘estoy viva’ update that you were alive, then ignoring your notifications for the rest of the afternoon as Clàudia and yourself tracked down Patri and headed back.

You missed your balcony in Madrid, instead looking out the window in Barcelona as you listened to the dial tone, waiting for the person on the other end to pick up the phone. Letting out a shaky breath, you listened as the person picked up.

“Hola Lola.”

“Hola, mini-me.”

“You were right. I should have talked to you about what was going on. But, it was hard. You were always so busy with your captain duties, so I kept it to myself, trying not to waste your time. Then when you weren’t doing captain stuff, you were busy with Medina or… I couldn’t talk to you, or anyone at Atleti. I felt alone, I have not played at all this season and it was messing with my head. I missed playing, and I missed my girlfriend, so I asked for a loan with the hopes that I’d get some minutes somewhere. I didn’t think Barcelona would be interested and I don’t know how it works with them having five goalkeepers, but my loan states I have to get minutes. I wanted to talk to someone, but everyone was busy with their own lives, so I fell through the cracks. Lola, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t tell any of you about any of this, you’re my family, and I love you.”

Lola was silent as your talking turned into muffled sobs, processing what you had said as shuffling on the other side caught her attention, hearing Pina softly comforting you.

Lola couldn’t ignore how her stomach twisted, reminding her of how withdrawn you had been from the start of the season to the last time she had seen you in person.

That last time was before Christmas, but you had been nervous about something at the annual holiday meal, she had noticed it, Carmen had noticed it, and Virginia had pointed out your odd behaviour at training after the meal.

It was like ice water had been dumped over her, realising it had been right in front of her for a while now.

“I’m sorry mini-me, I should have been there for you. I should have realised you were withdrawing and struggling…” Lola began to apologise, reflecting on how her focus had drifted and she had failed to check in on you properly, the conversation continuing until Lola had to go.

“Uh, by the way, Carmen texted me to tell you I did not run away to get eloped, but um, we’re not engaged, but, it’s just, uh, I bought Clàudia a promise ring in New York, okay, buenas noches!” You scrambled to spit out the news, hanging up the phone before Lola could respond, and turning to your girlfriend who immediately looked at your phone with wide eyes. Lola was trying to call back.

Flicking your phone across the room, you opened your mouth to begin to apologise, but you were cut off as lips met yours, quietening you as you were led back to the bed the two of you were sharing. Arms wrapping around each other, you laid in silence together with your fingers running through her hair before eventually falling asleep together for an early night with training tomorrow.

///

Excitement overruled anxiety for the morning, it would lead up to your first official training with the Barcelona team. You still weren’t sure how things would work, but the Copa De La Reina Round of 16 was coming up, you weren’t on the squad list for it but you were ready to throw yourself into training. You didn’t have Lola here, having left her and Atleti behind in Madrid. You didn’t have Carmen or Virginia either, but Clàudia didn’t have Jenni, and Alexia was doing her own training separate to the group.

Sandra spotted you almost instantly, pacing up and down the goal area with something on your mind.

“Hola! Bienvenida a Barcelona, estás bien?” Sandra checked in with you, pulling you into a hug to stop your pacing.

“Hola, muchas gracias, I’m, I’m okay, just… Clàudia is with the physio, and I don’t know what I’m doing.” You admitted, fiddling with your goalie gloves in your hand. They had your number on from Atleti, a number you were not at Barcelona.

“Vamos, mini Lola.” Sandra replied, gesturing for you to run with her around the training field, the two of you eventually joined by Gemma Font, continuing to jog around until everyone else was gathered to warm-up for training.

You were still a bit awkward when you crashed at Clàudia and Patri’s place after New Years turned into staying with them for longer. You had suggested finding a place to rent for your loan, but without your car (that you had left in Madrid in your hurry to get back for Barcelona’s game against Sevilla) you were stuck in a city you didn’t know as well as you knew Madrid. Clàudia knew this, and asked you to stay, the two of you able to function in the same space since staying together.

You still worried about Patri being uncomfortable by living with a couple, but she didn’t seem to mind. You weren’t sure how she hadn’t figured out anything about the promise ring, or if she had heard anything from when you’d shown Clàudia the ring.

The awkwardness washed over you like a wave when Patri and Clàudia had a few more teammates over after training that night, another Barcelona goalkeeper, Cata Coll, Jana, Laia and Aitana included as you ended up hiding out in Clàudia’s room, or, your shared room now. Sat on the bed, you ended up on the phone with Carmen, and then Virginia, who pointed out that you should be bonding with your teammates at Barcelona.

“I know, I know, I just… don’t text Clàudia- wow, thanks, Vir…” You murmured, hearing the Spanish woman hang up on you.

“Bebé, ¿por qué te escondes?” Clàudia enquired, entering the room with her phone in hand, sitting down next to you and leaning into your side. She wondered why you were hiding in your shared bedroom.

“Lo siento. I felt awkward.” You apologised, running your fingers over the plaster that Clàudia had put on your finger. Clàudia took your hand, bringing it to her mouth to kiss with a smile.

“Vamos bebé, we have dinner. You need to eat.” Your lover persuaded you to leave your hideaway, feeling awkward to join the others until Patri cut in with teasing the two of you for taking so long, but you both made a beeline for the food in the kitchen instead.

“How is it you two have been dating for over a year and we barely know you?”

“Madrid to Barcelona is an over six hour drive, or a maximum three hour train journey or an hour and a bit by aeroplane. Circumstances meant I have spent time with some Barcelona players more than others-”

“No shit, Jenni said she and Alexia lost you two in the streets of Barcelona once.” Patri pointed out, making you chuckle, biting your lip as Clàudia flustered slightly, but she still had a smirk on her face at the memories.

“Lola was ready to kill me after she found out that we ditched them, and Carmen and Virginia were not far behind…” you began to recall the story, not realising how relaxed you were until Clàudia was leaning into you, the two of you curled up together until the girls called it a night.

“Te amo, Pina.” You whispered into the darkness, pausing as Clàudia rolled over to bury her face in your neck, holding you closely.

“Te amo, mi amor.”

///

You didn’t play in the Copa De La Reina round of sixteen, instead you, Patri and Pina were at the park. Those two were supposed to be resting, but they were running goalkeeper drills with you in the park. Your confidence was growing as you pushed your worries out of your mind, preventing Patri and Pina from scoring, or making it harder if you couldn’t stop the ball completely. You hadn’t seen how Patri had set her phone up, showing you the pictures she had caught after for you to upload to your socials.

Your drive was relentless as you developed yourself with the training at Barcelona. The hopelessness you felt at Atleti when it came to actually getting minutes had evolved into a hopefulness, even if the loan in general was bittersweet. Barcelona were gearing up to keep Sandra, Gemma and Cata, and with Meritxell with team B, you knew your loan would just be a loan.

It was haunting how it felt like your roots were being ripped out from under you, your family in Madrid with Lola, Carmen, Virginia and Andrea, then your girlfriend/partner/soon fiancee, Clàudia in Barcelona. You were a great goalkeeper, but what you wanted was impossible.

You had tripped over your words as you explained the ring to Clàudia, giving her the option to have it as just a regular ring, if she didn’t want it to be a promise ring, or the relationship to be what it would be with that ring. She didn’t even have to wear it, but at that point you were rambling.

You had a feeling that Barcelona would not keep you, and you would not get many minutes at Atleti now, since Lola had re-signed until 2026. It was too early to make a prediction, but you had a feeling you would be loaned out for next season, because whilst Atleti wanted to keep you, but you wanted minutes, and to be close to the people you care about. Too bad the clubs were rather scattered… you really needed to get your car from Madrid.

Every time Atleti played a match, you texted your teammates a red and white heart if it was a home game, a purple and black heart for the second kit, or an orange heart for the third kit. Especially since Carmen had been playing again since the round of sixteen, and Virginia was finally subbed on against Villareal.

The Supercopa de España Femenina semi-final against Real Madrid left you watching intensely with Jana and Cata, the two slowly coming back into training whilst you were not required on the roster for the match, Barcelona had already listed three goalkeepers, but you were fine watching.

El Clásico matches were something you didn’t want to miss, especially when Clàudia scored. Or when Irene got her second yellow, turning into a red card and ejecting her from the game. The extra time left you tense, even after Clàudia had been subbed off, but Mariona’s penalty, followed by Salma’s goal in the 120th minute left you, Jana and Cata jumping around in celebration.

Eventually everyone gathered down on the pitch, hugging and grinning. You let out a breath, glancing around as you spotted the Real Madrid players, your stomach twisting as you recalled something Lola said last year, before keeping your attention on the team you were loaned to, smiling as Sandra pulled you into the celebrations.

The final of the Supercopa de España Femenina would be Barcelona against Real Sociedad, with the players out with injuries coming to watch the match.

“I feel like a traffic cone in this orange.” You murmured to yourself, pulling the coat further around yourself as you heard Alexia chuckle.

“It is very bright, but it is like Atleti’s third kit, yes?”

“Not the goalie kits, black, pink or green.” You fiddled with the zip of your coat, frowning slightly as Alexia asked her next question.

“You are not used to being here, at Barcelona yet, are you?”

“I feel like a fan wearing my fia- wearing Clàudia’s jersey, watching, then it was the same at Atleti last year, sat watching Lola for half a season. Am I just not good enough as a goalie to play? I thought I was good enough, they even put me in against Barcelona last season, but I haven’t had any minutes since,” fiddling with the zip, you didn’t see the frown on Alexia’s face, “I requested the loan to get minutes because it messes with my head to not play at all… I, I need to stop talking, the match is starting.”

Compared to the semi finals, the finals of the Supercopa went quicker, with you making quiet observations under your breath about the defensive lines and goalkeeping, to being completely silent when one of Real Sociedad’s players was taken off the pitch in a stretcher.

Your foot bounced against the floor as you watched everything going on, Barcelona winning the Supercopa 3-0. You grinned as you watched the team flood from the bench onto the pitch, lingering on the sidelines as the team got their medals and began to celebrate with the Supercopa trophy.

It looked strange, but you weren’t on the list for Barcelona for the Supercopa, and Atleti hadn’t qualified this season. It was only when Clàudia ran to you, a Barcelona flag around her shoulders like a cape as she jumped into your arms.

“Felicidades, mi supercampeona.” You smiled, holding Pina in your arms as her nose brushed yours.

“Gracias, mi amor. Vamos!” She grinned, taking your hand and guiding you to where Patri was stood with the cup, which somehow made its way onto the top of Patri’s head in Pina’s hands, before the three of you took a photo, Clàudia holding the cup, with Patri grinning at the camera, and you grinning at Clàudia with pride in your eyes.

You heard Clàudia let out a confused noise from where she sat next to Patri on the coach on the way back, Patri was next to the window so you and Clàudia could hold hands across the aisle when nobody was looking, unless you both wanted to be teased by the others.

“Qué?” you murmured, opening your eyes to look at Clàudia, who was on your phone.

“There are only two photos with you in.” Clàudia pouted, showing you the two photos. One was of you, Clàudia and Patri, whilst the other was you and Clàudia walking around the pitch together.

“Main focus was the trophy winners. Not the fourth goalie, technically fifth once Cata is back.” You whispered, half asleep somehow even with the celebrations on the coach.

Clàudia pouted again, about to open her mouth but instead she was nudging Patri to look at the camera as you got your phone out, holding it up to take a selfie with the two.

“Three photos.” You smiled, texting the photo over to Clàudia, who beamed at you.

“Ey!” Patri jokingly complained as Clàudia stood up, sliding into the seat next to you as you shuffled back against the window.

“You are not fourth choice, or fifth.” Your lover whispered, kissing your cheek before the two of you continued to snuggle, much to Patri’s teasing.

“You know, if I had known, I could have given everyone their medals, shake hands and stuff, since nobody gave them out to you all, maybe it would piss some people off but I’ve not played on a national level so…” You admitted, playing with Clàudia’s hair as she snuggled into you, the two of you in a entanglement of limbs after less than five seconds.

///

“Hey, cariño, do you know how to use photoshop? My attempts aren’t exactly great, I think I’m messing up the layers?” Turning your laptop to Clàudia, who paused, taking a closer look before shaking your head.

“Photoshop?” Patri raised an eyebrow, walking over to see what you were working on.

“I’m not in the team picture for Atleti this season, and I’m not in the Barça one either, so I’m photoshopping myself in… badly.” You grimaced, about to ask Patri for help but she shrugged too, suggesting you try to find a tutorial on youtube.

Later that evening, you uploaded the two photoshopped images to your instagram, captioning the post with ‘fixed it’, gaining the attention of your Atleti teammates and your Barcelona ones, liking and commenting on your post. Andrea had even commented, whilst Lola deadpanned you could have picked a photo where you were wearing your goalie kit.

Your drive had increased. Everyone could see it, your skills were improving, desperate not to plateau your abilities, but also you wanted to enjoy yourself. You started football because you enjoyed it, and you loved being a goalkeeper. So when you got to hold your own in goal during training, Clàudia couldn’t help but grin at the smile on your face. Sandra spotted it too, taking time to bond, and making sure the goalkeeper union got along after the slightly tense realisation Barcelona had five goalkeepers at different stages this season.

Watching Barcelona play Levante Las Planas, your foot bounced up and down, thoughts running through your mind as the minutes went by. Atleti would start playing against Madrid CFF soon, but you pushed it back, quietly talking strategy with Sandra, much to her amusement.

“You will play in February, I know it.” Sandra patted your shoulder, nodding to you as you hummed, watching Clàudia before she was subbed off at the 67th minute, coming over to sit with you both.

Atleti played Sevilla earlier in the day than when Barcelona had an away game against Granadilla Tenerife. You’d eyed the line-ups for the game, feeling your stomach twist at Lola captaining Atleti against former Atleti captain, now captain of Sevilla, Sampedro. Alteti had drawn against Madrid CFF, the score 2-2 in a 15 minute scramble, but as much as you adored Atleti, your focus was on Barcelona.

“I think I’m going to get my car from Madrid during February’s international break…” you decided, your leg bouncing against the floor of the bus as you had to lean across to talk to Clàudia, who sat in the seats adjacent to you with Patri.

“What if you are called up?” Patri enquired but you let out a huff, shaking your head.

“They have enough goalkeepers.”

You knew Lola would be beating herself up about Sevilla’s equaliser goal at the 90th minute, Atleti drawing for the fourth time in a row in the league, but you didn’t have a chance to text her anything too long, as a jersey hit you in the face.

“You know I wear a goalkeeper kit, right? Wow, this kit is reminding me of that Barcelona away shirt from 2019, maybe? It was before I was at Atleti…” You reminisced, smiling as you gently folded the jersey that was thrown at you.

“Where were you before Atleti?”

“I was at-” you were cut off as the staff asked to talk to you, your eyes meeting your girlfriend’s confused gaze which you mirrored.

Your confused look was exchanged for a nervous one as you returned from talking to the staff, getting Patri and Pina’s attention as you wrapped up a conversation with Gemma, and Sandra was not far behind you.

“What’s-”

“Um, against Granadilla Tenerife, I’m starting… they’re resting Gemma and Sandra has some muscle discomfort? I don’t know… but, I’m starting, I’m getting minutes?” Your voice was shaky with disbelief, glancing towards Sandra with concern but the older goalkeeper was supportive, pulling you into a side hug as Pina rushed towards you to hug you too.

For over an entire season, Lola and Carmen had been a part of your pre-match preparations after they took you under their wing upon Lola’s return to Atleti for the 2021/22 season. Now you were preparing for a match miles away from them in the Canary Islands, but unlike your first season at Atleti back in 2020, you had someone by your side. Clàudia squeezed your hand as she reached over for it on the bus, smiling softly as you met her eyes with as much of a smile as you could muster.

No doubt your Atleti teammates would see your name on Barcelona line-ups, you didn’t have the same number as you did at Atleti, taking Lola’s number 13 after Lola was shuffled up to number 1 there. But at Barcelona, your jersey number was more than triple that.

The first half of the game, you had a few touches on the ball, but Barcelona had more of a handle on it at 5-0 by halftime. You were hopeful that the cameras hadn’t caught you grinning at Clàudia’s goal in the 5th minute, but the cameras and the fans had caught it, just like they had caught you jumping up to grab the crossbar, in a perfect world you would have done a pull-up, but instead you got down quickly, waiting for the game to begin.

The second half of the game, your drive was in overdrive, anticipating as much as you could as you slipped into the zone, retrieving a stray ball to send back to Mapi. With Alexia and Sandra out, and Marta on the bench, Patri was wearing the captain’s armband for the match.

Glancing to the sidelines after one of the Granadilla Tenerife players was down, you spotted the substitutions getting ready to come on soon for both teams. The captain’s armband eventually made its way to Marta as she was subbed on. Asisat, Patri, Rolfö, Mariona and Irene eventually make way for Emma, Nuria, María, Marta and Laia to come onto the pitch.

The scoreline was unchanged since halftime, but you headed onto the field, retrieving another stray ball to send back to your defenders. Nearing the 89th minute, Mapi sent the ball back to you, sending it back to her once the Granadilla Tenerife players moved around a bit to try to anticipate your move.

You let out a breath as the two minutes of stoppage time arrived, Clàudia’s goal attempt falling flat as the Granadilla Tenerife goalkeeper managed to keep the scoreline the same since before halftime, until Lucy’s head sent the ball into the net.

The final score of the match was 6-0 as you made your way around, shaking hands with the opposing players and complimenting Noelia Ramos on her goalkeeping as she let out a sigh.

You were about to mention the shots and shots on target statistics in comparison to how many goals Barcelona did score, when a warm body wrapped around your side, kissing your cheek.

“Hola, cariño, well done today.” You whispered, smiling at the first goalscorer of the game, and your love.

“Well done, bebé. You were amazing.” Pina whispered back, smirking slightly as you glanced over her kit, the fourth kit jersey having grasped your attention from the moment her jersey hit you in the face earlier.

“Vamos, we both stink…” You paused, frowning slightly at the memory of when you and Pina would run away from team mothers who had played the full 90 minutes, but you pushed it back, following your team back to the locker room, where Sandra congratulated you on your performance as you got in the door.

“Gracias!” you grinned back, cut off as a jersey hit you in the face again.

///

The next match was an away game against Valencia, with Sandra still out on precaution due to the muscle strain, it was almost a toss up between who would be selected to start. The next matches after were against Real Betis, then Alavés before the international break.

You didn’t play internationally, so you would be able to retrieve your car from Madrid when it rolled around.

But right now, you were in Barcelona’s yellow goalkeeper kit, standing in goal watching carefully. Valencia’s attempts at goal were good, but Barcelona had already scored twice. A free kick almost had you stood on, but it went your way as the whistle was blown.

Twenty two minutes in, and your captain, Marta had scored, taking the scoreline up to 3-0. You were tested twice more before the twenty fifth minute, the ball being carried away down to the other goal for Barcelona to have more attempts. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were enjoying the challenge of this match, especially with how Patri was in control of the game.

Valencia’s Chacón hurtling down towards goal had you and Nuria hurrying into action, before the ball met your gloves less than two minutes later. Valencia’s determination to take away the clean sheet as half-time approached had you on high alert as you sent the ball back into play. You were done comparing yourself to anyone else’s goalkeeping. You glanced over at the bench as the half-time whistle went, walking over to the tunnel.

The music playing coming out of the tunnel was dramatic as you headed over to the goal, hopping up to attempt to reach the crossbar, you smiled at Pina on the bench as she smiled back.

Less than two minutes into the second half, Aitana had taken the score up to 4-0. Punching a ball away near the 58th minute, you caught it again as it was sent back at you, sending the ball away before Valencia could try again.

Two substitutions were made for each time, for Barcelona, Marta and Aitana went off for Lucy and Keira, Patri getting the armband in the process.

A corner to Valencia in the 69th minute ended up hitting the post as you watched, Geyse being subbed off for Ana not long after as you went to retrieve the ball. Another attempt at the 79th minute after a really good cross from Valencia had you smiling to yourself, the ball having clipped the goal frame, going out for a goal kick.

More substitutions came for Barcelona as Vicky came on for Rolfö, whilst Pina came on for Mariona, you had to fight back the excitement as you schooled your features. There were still five minutes left and you couldn’t let yourself get distracted.

Three minutes of stoppage time went by and the whistle was blown, you held back from jogging over to your teammates, instead taking a moment to stand in goal and reflect on everything.

“Hola, mi amor…” you went to hug Pina, but she smirked, looking you up and down before teasingly pulling away.

“Go shower, you smell.”

“Wow… I mean it’s not like you can join me here so…” you teased, heading away when you were pulled back.

“We’re lucky our team mothers are not here, they’d never let us be alone in the same room.” Pina pointed out, smiling as you chuckled.

“Yeah, that sounds like Lola and Carmen, and Jenni and Alexia… time flies…” you began to reminisce, feeling your eyes water for a moment before everyone was heading back to the tunnel, Patri and Aitana coming over to get you and Pina in the process.

Atleti didn’t have another game until the 5th, the same day as Barcelona’s home game against Real Betis. But that didn’t mean you expected to find a missed call from Lola whilst on the trip back, listening to the voicemail as you watched the sun begin to set.

“Capitana Aitana!” you grinned, the Real Betis squad revealed, and although you were resting on the bench this match, you were excited to watch Aitana take the captain’s armband when the game began. Right now though, you were heading out to warm up with Gemma, who was starting this match.

“Atleti won against Huelva.”

“3-1, Huelva’s goal in stoppage time.” You didn’t take your eyes off of the pitch as you watched your team, Geyse already having scored but you were hooked on everything happening.

“Uva?”

“What? Oh, a grape! Gracias- oh, shit, yes Keira!” you exclaimed, spotting Keira score her first goal for Barcelona, whilst you held the tub of grapes in your hand.

Pulling the blanket over your legs, you wrapped your arms around yourself, watching the second half get ready to start, with Human by The Killers playing in the Estadi, giving you something to dance to, and make Bruna laugh too.

Barcelona’s third goal of the game belonged to your lover, your celebration making Bruna laugh again, followed by Patri playfully nudging you to sit down.

“What, can you really blame me? Go, warm up!” you sassed, leaning back in your seat to watch the rest of the game.

It hadn’t taken long for the Barcelona substitutes to make an impact, with Asisat and Mariona both scoring goals quickly. More substitutions and more goals came, with Asisat scoring her third hattrick in twelve days by the end of the match.

///

Your instagram stories, and Pina’s, were full of reposts of Barcelona posts, but every so often, the two of you would post something different. This time, the two of you had posted your plates, having dinner together after the match.

Sandra was back by the time the last game before the February international break, so she was starting, whilst you and Gemma sat on the bench, discussing possible gameplays and the international break. You were not called up, so you’d talked to the Barcelona staff, finding a gap where you could go to Madrid to get your car, and drive it back to Barcelona.

The game against Alavés was already going quickly, the offside flag being called before the first goal of the match. It took longer for Barcelona to score against Alavés, compared to the game back in November, being at 2-0 by half-time, (a goal from Asisat, and an own goal from Alavés) compared to the 5-0 that Barcelona were at in the November game.

“Why do you sound weird?”

“I have come to the conclusion that I am going to get ill every time Clàudia does…” you explained, wrapping your coat further around yourself as the second half commenced. Aitana took the score up to 3-0 in the 64th minute, substitutions occurring as Rolfö sat down next to you to observe the rest of the match.

Clàudia took the score up to 4-0 in the 84th minute, your reaction making Rolfö chuckle as you snapped out of whatever half-awake state you were in, the brunt of whatever bug you had caught from the girl you shared a bed with hitting you hard.

��You know you could have told them you’re sick-”

“I felt fine before, that’s what is so silly.” You admitted, sticking your tongue out playfully as Clàudia walked over to you post-match, pulling you into a hug.

“I think I caught what you had.”

///

Carmen didn’t expect to get a text message from Clàudia, or that there would be an attached photo of you bundled up in blankets, visually ill, watching the Atleti vs Athletic Club match, then a video of you celebrating Carmen’s goal before almost coughing your lungs up from over doing it.

It might have taken you a little while to go get your car from Madrid.

#claudia pina x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #claudia pina imagine #woso imagines #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni imagines #atletico madrid x reader #claudia pina imagines

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pollyna · 1 year

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Carole starts the tradition, little name tags on Goose's Hawaiian shirts and almost every item of clothes Bradley owns. She starts writing them down with a sharpy on label, N.G.B and B.P.B, and she ends up adding little rectangular pieces of fabric to embody their initial. She adds little flowers and planes, a frog and a baseball bat. It goes from a sort-of-an-hobby to the-perfect-hobby-to-fill-the-time-during-Bradley's practice. Some of Mav and Ice' clothes end up being stitched too and one of Slider's hoodies gets decorated with an actual slide and his name.

She never really stops working with needles, even when all her life is in a hospital and someday, her baby looks a lot too much like her dead husband. She smiles and adds another half of a stitch or some kind of impossible point one of the nurses taught her during chemotherapy.

After she passes Bradley's life is all a new and scary adventure, with a new house, no mom but two dads he can call dad and pop only behind close doors and uncles in front of everyone else's and the thought about embroidered planes and baseball bats almost passes. At least until Mav doesn't get him a new Hawaiian shirt, and it feels all wrong to wear it.

It takes a while, a particularly cold day and one of Slider's hoodies, to solve the mystery. Dad dad dad! I know what the shirt is missing! I want to put the label like mom did!

For someone who never took a needle in his hand, it all shows. Their first try is a total disaster and even when Mav decides it would be nice to learn all together it still takes time and most of their new works are wonky, splashes of colors and not looking like planes, at all. But it gets better. They get better in a lot of things.

Bradley is thirty-one, on a carrier in the middle of the Indian Ocean doing patrol rounds on patrol rounds, and most of his service clothes aren't back yet from the laundry, with most of his regular laundry too. The sweater is sitting on the bottom of his bag for years, new place after new place, but he can vividly remember uncle Ice, dad, wearing it to go outside and uncle Mav, po- uncle Mav, wearing it inside. And he remembers stealing it from a fresh bucket of laundry, without the slightest intention to give it back. The cotton is soft against is fingers and the labels, two of them, almost lost all their color but Bradley can recognize his mom's work and what they, him and Ice and Mav, try to do years later. His mom needle work is of a little goose, green and brown and gray, while their part is pending a little too much on the left side and some letters are still readable but the indent of the original design is totally lost to time and Bradley's vague memories of that day. Wearing it is like really feeling at home for the first time in a long while and he can't stop thinking, in the days to come, that the first step to actually get back home could be that, a new sweater, a piece of fabric and a needle work that will receive more than one interpretation.

#carole bradshaw #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #parental icemav #icemav

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everyonewooeverywhere · 4 months

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minor life update

taglist form | about me | guidelines | ao3 | anon list

seventeen masterlist | ateez masterlist

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

requests: OPEN (but read guidelines first please 💗)

pending requests: 2

safe haven | detective!yeosang x f!reader title tbd | idol!yunho x idol!f!reader

latest works :

tags:

-> my writing : #everyonewooeverywhere

-> rambles/text posts : #dj is talking (feel free to block the tag if you don't want to see me post random shit completely out of context)

-> fic recs/reblogs : #my faves

-> mutuals : #moots 💗

#everyonewooeverywhere

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somehazydaze · 6 months

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Riding high, when I was king Played it hard and fast, 'cause I had everything Walked away, wonderin' then But easy come and easy go And it would end 💨

cerberus corp has been watching Malakai Dawson. some of the public has dubbed them Haze because of Smoke Materialization gifted by misplaced footing during one his parkour sessions been an extra ordinary since 2009, they’re doing a good job at hiding Wheezing Cough, Low Lung Capacity, Asthmas Attacks, when they aren’t working their day job as a Vigilante for Hire , they are fond of Exploring the Abandoned Corners of New York and are never seen without Inhaler. at first glance they seem Chill & Free Spirited, though their close friends know them to also be Cocky & Defensive. they consider themself a vigilante

bio ┋ musings ┋ connections ┋ playlist ┋ pinterest ┋ navi

name Malakai Dawson nicknames Kai, Kiki [only by Ampi<;3] age 31 date of birth April 10th 1992 zodiac Aries place of birth Queens, New York current residence Queens, New York gender cisgender man pronouns he/him sexuality bisexual occupation vigilante for hire [name pending], Volunteer at Youth Group

faceclaim keiynan lonsdale height 6'0 ft tattoos [coming soon] piercings earlobe distinguishing features that cocky ass smirk, his height, awesome hair always sometime dyed,sometime natural really does depend on his mood.

positive traits chill, free-spirited, brave, laidback, generous negative traits cocky, defensive, irrational, spontaneous, do-first-think later.

labels Big Ego, Hidden Depths, Smug Super

characters [coming soon]

likes Mini Cookies, Sweet Treats, Beating Asses at Petty Contests, His Bose Headphones, Bright Clothes, A Comfy Hoodie, Helping People Out, Capoeira, Breakfast for Dinner, Taking Selfies, Bright Trainers, Upbeat Music, dislikes Meaningless Work, Fake People, His Annoying Ass Cough, Cerberus Corp, Accidently getting ASL Signs Wrong, Sour Food, Letting Food go to Waste, Classical Music fears Getting a Corporate Job, Working for Cerberus Corp, Agent Cupcake running out of Cupcakes, His Friends and Family getting Hurt, Falling from a Height, hobbies Parkour, Beating ass on Mario Kart [he is a Yoshi Main], Dance Battles, Exploring Abandon Corners of New York, Occasionally Tagging habits Arms tucked behind his head when thinking, Opening the Fridge and closing it again before remembering what he got, fiddling with his pockets, never standing still so rocking on hills or swaying arms, humming or drumming his fingers against something, asking people if they are going to finish that.

near death experience… He got too cocky with his friends, filming Youtube Videos of them free running. The jump was something that he was never going to make, he knew that. But when he was double dared by a friend for $100, who was he to say no? Showing off, he thought he was going to make it. Clearly, he didn't cause when he was awake in an overpriced hospital bed. Of course, after being given some expensive meds and given the all clear from his near death experience he was curious if he'd get powers like he had heard about. That's when he started experimenting in an abandoned building, hoping for something badass like wall-crawlin, enhanced jumping or agility, something that would already enhance his natural talents. When he learned about his power Smoke Materlization, it was time to hit the science textbooks and learn about smoke properties and where to find them in New York City.

power…

💨Malakai's power is Smoke Materialization. He is unable to create smoke, however, he is able to use available smoke around him to be shaped into different solid constructs and objects that appear to have a smoky like consistency .His constructs are able to hold his weight and can become solid forms. He needs a high level of concentration to create the form, the more complex a form tends to be, the more smoke that is needed to bring it to existence. His creations are under his control and influence they can be dismissed when he blows the smoke away or they are "beaten" or "attacked" by others. When his constructs do disappear they do let let out a loud "poof" sound that can effect the use of stealth.

💨One of this main constructs he metalizes are small platforms that help him more from building to building with ease. He tends to make constructs for escape, nothing as extensive as a car or motorcycle, as those shapes are far too complex, so he sticks to simple constructs like a skateboard.

💨He can get pretty creative with his materializations from creating duplicate items, like keys and passes. If they actually work that would depend on the attention to detail with the constructs. Some of his bigger constructs are sometimes just very showy like dragon like smoke monsters, that are basically their for aesthetic, not actual creatures that would attack for him- some would assume this is a stronger version but merely would be used as a distraction. He can create replicas of items such as food, but it may look like food does not mean that it will have the same genetic makeup or nutrition of food. He's tried and it is just basically a smoke after taste leaving you more hungry than before.

💨Due to him relying on smoke around him, his constructs will inhabit different strengths and forms that are dependent on the type of smoke used to create the constructs. New York is filled with wonderful smokes and gases, each with it's own unique property. Such as flammable gases, chemical reactions, acid smoke, corrosion..

[more detail to be added about various smoke type, imagine like different materials that have strengths and weaknesses. ]

drawbacks / vulnerabilities…

💨Sadly due to the extent of his power relying on smoke, his body is not immune to how the smoke can effect his body. He is constantly breathing in the toxic and poisonous air with damage his lungs.

💨Kai as a result of his powers has developed Asthma and is often faced with Asthma Attacks where he is struggling to breath. Unfortunately for him he now needs to carry and inhaler around with him most places that he goes. Especially, needing to take it easy with his Parkour Adventures.

💨He suffers with a constant wheezing cough that sounds very much like a smokers cough. And he has never smoked in his life. So it is pretty damn frustrating coughing all the damn time. It is something he is learning to get use too.

codename… Haze something about it just felt simple, clean and had an edge to it. Sounded cooler than being Smokey....making him sound like a dog. Also things with a Z automatically seem to look cool in his mind.

OTHER

💨He just wants to help people and give back. Hates big corp way of doing it and wanting attention. He basically runs a hero for hire business cause he wants to give back. Sometimes for a price. Sometimes from the kindness of his heart.

💨Agent Cupcake might be the only Agent he really like since he is the vibes that Malakai vibes with most. Other than that he is very fuck cooperation.

#cc.task #cc.intro

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anubisystem · 2 years

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My praxis has withered specifically re: image descriptions, I need to get back to doing those and prioritizing reblogs with them and ALSO I should start tagging the undescribed ones on my own webbed site page. Primarily note to self. Also practice moment - I wanna know if this is grammable . Regardless of if it is I’m still pending my decision about whether to use instagram ever again but LOOK at me posting my visage on the internet. So brave, so unprecedented.

ID: medium length blue haired white guy (transgender variety) in a darker blue hoodie does a bathroom mirror selfie with an iPhone. His eye line is off because he is making a TBH/autism creature expression.

#is the tbh face on purpose? you get to decide #jamie speaks #taylor talks #image described #trans rights #trans is beautiful #xxxtra schizophrenia #autism creature #tbh creature

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ejjxnes · 3 years

Photo

Ethan Tobias Jones

#self;#Maple;#squad tag pending;#edits;#[Another moodboard for the day]#[This time it's for Eef and I adore it]#[Hoodies galore]

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goldpilot22 · 3 years

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finished writing this thing! a little introduction to a few of the birds, from killdeer's perspective!

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toestalucia · 4 years

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how many hoodies does gran have, tell us their secrets

i would like to not answer that.

#strelizxa #in rune factory frontier bianca has a line where she essentially says 'wtf u thought i wear the same dress everyday? i have 100+ IDENTICAL #dresses so i will nvr wear the same one'#and thats. gran #80% of what they own is hoodies #gran WOULD like to stitch together them forever but alas battles arent that kind always so.#anyone: lets go shopping #gran seeing another almost identical blue hoodie: i Must have it #JADJAD YALL ARE SO FUNNY!!!!!! ILU SERIN #pending hc tag.#they DO wear simple shirts or t-shirts sometimes but......its way more likely to find them in a hoodie

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mypersonmyg · 3 years

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The Misery Chick | MYG

thank you to my favorite @kimtaehyunq for the wonderful banner, ily you talented cutie <3

pairing: Yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, a lil tiny bit of angst, college au

wc: 5.2k (issa short one)

warnings: language

summary: maybe yoongi has a fat crush on you OR he notices, that’s all

a/n: happy birthday to the one and only min yoongi! i am so so fond of him and i couldn’t not write something for him, so I hope you enjoy :D and as always feel free to send in drabble requests for the fic and blah blah blah...

honorary tag: @gukssunshine

masterlist

To wonder about the quickened stride of the beating appendage in Yoongi’s chest, would be to question the routine catch of gaze to the lone figure at the far end of the classroom, dwarfed by cuddled fabric, consumed with the rapid turn of the lengthy page. His arm rests atop the desk’s surface, supporting the chin that minutely dips with your every flicker of expression, the parting of your lips in gasp mimed by his own. His eyes are glazed under bright light, lids threatening to blink, the passage of time too fast, but oh so slow.

Yoongi’s knowledge is second hand, rumblings of your demeanor spread through the vine of dialogue that floats coincidentally through his ears to connect with the edges of his brain, chewed and regurgitated without second thought. He holds his refusal to high regard, refusal to believe that you’re nothing more than a student, disgruntled by circumstance. It’s not simple attraction that guides his mind to the eye of logic, the region of reason, though it was the peak of initial interest.

He notices, and that’s all.

He notices the round of your puffed cheeks that follows a particularly surprising piece of narrative. He notices the seat left empty between you and the wall, open but not a forced invitation, and he notices the way your posture straightens when someone grazes a hair too close. He notices the deflation of your shoulders when you’re left without pair during lessons framed with the inopportunity of interaction forced to simulate the false reality of reality itself. He notices the things others are blind to in their half squint, though the picture is still blurred like the edges of a polaroid.

The numbness of his wrist, angled by the rest of his chin, draws him from captivation despite motivation to outlast the congregation huddle before you, their fronts focused toward him, his view obscured by obligation of association. His lips form the curvature of amiability necessary for pleasantry, neck craning to the defense of blue jeans offending his locked gaze.

“Can you stop staring so hard? She’s gonna eat you alive,” Hoseok’s finger nudges at the round of Yoongi’s jaw, urging his attention completely away from his person of interest.

“Fuck off, you don’t even know her.”

“Neither do you, despite your dedication to staring holes into her side every chance you get. They don’t call her ‘the misery chick’ for nothing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.” The jab rubs the wrong direction, Yoongi’s hand landing with a thud to the thick of Hoseok’s skull. “Come on, it’s a joke.”

“Maybe to you, and to everyone else, but she is a person. You guys just don’t look beyond what you wanna see because then she’s more than just a good laugh.” Every utterance of the moniker draws is lips to a downward twitch, fists balling in the pocket of his hoodie or scraping at the fabric of stressed jeans. It’s knowing that if he’s heard it you have ten fold, the thought harboring the wish that he could fold you inward, close to the beat of his chest to shield from the displeasure of words half baked with stupidity and the ignorance of hilarity.

“Well not everyone wants to see her between the sheets.”

Interruption of the education saves Hoseok from the verbal spar pending within the fire engulfing Yoongi’s pupils. A place of love harbors the words of war, he knows this, knows that Hoseok’s plan is to rile to the point of action, but he’s driven to the brink of insanity by twisted words of encouragement. The kindest person on the planet playing into the stereo of broken records hurled toward the edges of your delicate framing, .

Yoongi’s hands curl around his pen, ballpoint and already dancing the page, jotting words flown from one canal to the other and back to the atmospheric toxins of brains shorting caffeine. His sleeves are suddenly burning, neck itching with the heat of nerves crawling outward from within the confines of his collar. He glances toward Hoseok staring absently at Yoongi’s decorative scrawl, raising a brow to colliding gazes.

“Is it hot?” Yoongi puckers in mumble, swiping at the skin kissing the fringe sweeping his eyeline. Hoseok’s head careens in the negative, averting gaze to the front of the room, professor droning about the coming assignment, a project that Yoongi barely catches wind of.

The plague responsible for his discomfort of familiarity is comfort enough to stop the distant tremble of shoulders keen to the stare that meets his eyes from the room’s opposing side. He jolts, or rather the calm of his heart picks back to pace, when his eyes meet irises reflective of his own. They’re gone as soon as he finds them, but he’s confident that the cool of his neck is confirmation that sanity isn’t all lost.

“Dude, could you take your notes? I’m gonna need those later,” Hoseok nudges at his forearm, limp from distraction. Yoongi hurries to scribble missed lecture, patient for a lull in speech to make room for declaration.

“She was looking at me.”

“What?”

“Y/n, she was looking at me. I saw her...I felt her.”

“Maybe she was just staring off into space because this class is a snooze-fest.” Hoseok speaks through the timing of yawn, perfectly punctuating his point. “She probably doesn’t even know you exist. Though, I guess everyone knows you exist, so maybe she just doesn’t care.”

The words aren’t false, Yoongi’s following his beyond the definition of quaint, his celebrity following him from the rush of the court to the thrill of the keys. He’s hard pressed for a moment of peace, but he often finds it here, lost in you.

“I’m serious.”

Yoongi sighs an audible defeat, Hoseok’s dropped lids and the rest of his chin atop folded arms a clear sign that his mind is beyond the classroom and beyond Yoongi’s own romantic woes. The end of the lecture appears miles from the start, the wave of dismissal a spell releasing its hold on the shackles chaining the ghoulish appearance of sleepless students.

Yoongi has worked himself to the brink of decision by the end of the lecture, sure enough that his stride to your desk will prove a build in the shy tint of his cheeks when he musters a faint ‘hello’. The pan of his half thought out plan doesn’t sort as well as he hoped, the rush of legs scurrying for the door tripping him up in his rush to the chair where you patiently filed notebook to bag.

His vision is blurred by the passage of sweaters and hoodies, emblems emblazoned on sleeves and beanies sagging from the tips of bedhead. Hoseok follows after his stride in a confused wake from the desk that housed his sleepy head for the last seventy minutes, stumbling along with the drag of feet on tile.

When destination is met, your chair is neatly housed, your figure nowhere to be found, Yoongi paces back, his sizable sneaker just scuffing the metal recline of an adjacent chair.

“What are you doing?” Hoseok clutches the muscled fabric of Yoongi’s shoulder, stopping near disaster following the weighted displacement of the two.

“Nothing, let's get lunch.”

The passage of days are a haze in the midst of the craze of midterms and Yoongi’s attempt to find reason to believe your glance was more than a passing innocence. The press of his back to his mattress, sheets freshly laundered, linens, scented of the artificial makings of fresh lilac courtesy of Jeongguk, are used to his mid-day collapse for a pre-study snooze. He’s swallowed whole beneath the dense of his comforter, fingers curling into the soft material, lips emitting a sigh of satisfaction.

The buds in his ears are a dull hum, white noise to saturate the crevices of his brain still vibrating from the surge of knowledge consumed at the twice rapid pace of the semester’s schedule. His lids are aflutter, pupils rolling to the dark precipice, the unconscious already tugging at the bits of his subconscious manifested to snooze.

The muscles of his pillowy cheeks fight upward against the smush to the firm cushioning of his mattress, arms cuddled around the decorative cushion of deep blue. A pitched giggle echoes in the receptors of his brain, bouncing against the walls, a comforting sound. It’s foreign though, the melodic stutter, yet it engulfs his chest with the warmth of affection, his stomach turning with nerves of the giddy sort.

He teeters on the edge of more, features dancing between streams, a waterfall blur. Yoongi aches for the reach, his physical and metaphorical being extending from the depths of his full size bed, yearning for the exploration of the four walls and beyond. He can swear his fingers graze the soft of skin, the trace of lip curved in sensuality just visible through sleepy haze. The giggles grow in volume, almost as if guided toward his hasty reach.

“Jeongguk, shut up!” Yoongi falls forward, just catching onto the ledge of his dresser, quick reflexes doing wonders for his physical well being, but the skip in his mental and the stop of his heart are undeniable.

He's heard the voice a handful of times, an arm eagerly shooting to respond to a professor’s quarry, the hidden mumblings that he swears he’s the only one to pick up on, his smirk almost never enough to stop impending chuckle.

It’s you.

He knows, but can’t quite grasp that just beyond the barrier of belief, past the door sealed to keep from disturbance you’re somewhere laughing with Jeongguk. He listens for a moment, unmoving, to attempt a deciphering of your intentions, but laughter has turned to the inaudible mumblings from the room across the hall. He’s silent in his trek to the door, pulling it on rusted hinges, cringing with every scrape of copper and wood.

He slips down the hall on tiptoe, unsure if you’re attune to the other members of the house, but not ready to face you if Jeongguk’s door swings back to reveal the occupants of the small cubical. Yoongi makes way to the kitchen, surprised to find the rest of his roommates crowded into the sizable space, each occupied with their own endeavor of strewn textbooks and half frozen toaster strudel.

“Well well look who’s awake,” Jimin sneers playfully in Yoongi’s direction, drawing attention from the rest of the room.

“Bet I can guess why,” Taehyung snickers, glances exchanged with a conspiratorial air, the shift of Yoongi’s feet not unnoticed by his personal tormentors. “We told Jeongguk he might wanna keep it down, we know how you like your rest.”

“Jeongguk didn’t wake me,” Not the correct turn of phrase, realized just moments late, the flicker of pupils raising with the feigned ah ha! Yoongi side steps them all, settling on the sphere of orange grabbing his interest from the bowl on the table, plopping into the nearest chair.

“Oh he didn’t? Well what other reason could you possibly have to forgo your pre-study nap, hmmm?” Jin pokes at the slightly greened peel of Yoongi’s fruit, hand smacked away with haste. He withdraws to card through his hair, lengthening by the day, framing his face with more beauty than should be allowed by the ethereal senior.

“I was hungry, s’all.” He tosses scraps with each peel of fruitful flesh, eagerly sliding bits of tangerine past his puckered lips. Anything to keep his mind from the fresh dose of giggles eating at his brain like a love bitten parasite. “Who—umm, who does Jeongguk have over.”

“Oh, Kookie has a friend over? We had no idea,” Namjoon hums, glasses perched to the bridge of his nose, arms eaten by the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Maybe you recognize their voice? I mean, you’re the only one close enough to hear it.” Hoseok’s grin is shit eating, half hidden behind the length of his hand, fingers curling in position at the tip of his chin.

“Oh, oh! I think I recall him saying something about a...Y/—hmmm was it…” Taehyung fakes stumbles over the name, tips of his fingers tracing the glass of his crumbed plate.

“Y/n.” Yoongi speaks through teeth clenched, his cheeks rosy from snatched sleep and the scrutiny he’s placed himself under, the heat of a lamp concentrated in the five pairs of eyes trained on his every movement for their amusement.

“So you do know her, why don’t you go say hi?” Jin pats him with vigour, the sound of an echoed frame permeating the air of what Yoongi has affectionately titled, friendly toxicity. Those same muffled voices grow with the trek down the stairs, threatening to give way with each step. Yoongi lifts his eyes from his half eaten fruit for the first time since he sat down, daring them to say a word out of turn with a single look.

“It’s pretty quiet considering seven guys live here,” Your voice is audible from the front door, Yoongi’s grip tightening, juice spilling down the crevices of his hand, soiling his shirt sleeve, palms already sticky from the stress. “I have one roommate and, as you’ve seen, she can be loud enough for the both of us.”

“I’m just as surprised as you are actually. I know Yoongi is probably asleep,” Yoongi sinks into his chair, knowing glances threatening to drop him straight through the wooden surface. “The rest are probably out.”

“Yoongi?” Your voice strays a bit, Yoongi’s lip twitching, unsure what to think of the sudden strain in pitch.

“Yeah, do you know him?”

“Oh, um...kinda? Not really, we share a class together, but we’ve never talked. I’m pretty sure he’d think he’s too cool for me anyways. You know, ‘misery chick’ and all.” Yoongi levels a stare at Hoseok whose arms lift in readied defense, though his own face conjures frown at your words. Your attention clearly never spotting the longing with which he’s leveled you for the past few months.

“You’re not the ‘misery chick’,” Jeongguk’s voice holds firm reassurance, something Yoongi wishes he could give you, but he’s glued, too curious for the thought of impromptu interruption. “People are just jerks. Besides, Yoongi-hyung isn’t like that at all. He likes to pretend he doesn’t know how cool people think he is.”

“Guess I’ll just have to take your word for it. I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Koo.”

The door closes, Jeongguk just as soon rounding into the kitchen, tracks dead when there are six pairs of eyes trained on his figure. “Wha—have you all been here the whole time?”

He only takes pause momentarily, his stride leading to the fridge, a juice box of all things pulled from metal confines. The naked eye would never guess the soft interior of Jeongguk, his features contrasting with the boots swallowing his feet and the tattoos eating his arm, tracing his digits. But he’s the walking embodiment of the careful youth painting each man posted in the room, a piece of him nursed by a piece of them with each day passing.

“Yeah, we’re just hangin’ around, Jeonggukie.” Hoseok shrugs, ruffling the base of Jeongguk’s wild curls.

“Well you’re doing it pretty quietly, Y/n thought it was weird.”

“Are you guys dating?” Jimin’s question is thrown with abandon, eyes trained on Jeongguk with absolute focus, Yoongi sending a glare toward the silver haired fiend.

“No.” Jeongguk pays little mind to the question, too busy squeezing every last drop from the box clutched in his fist, doe eyes glistening with concentration. “We met last semester in lit and she’s really cool so we started hanging out. You guys should meet her sometime, she doesn’t have a lot of friends because of this dumb rumor that she’s ‘the misery chick’ which is ridiculous because she’s one of the nicest people I’ve met here.”

“Yeah, you can bring her over any time.” Namjoon encourages, book lowered to the table, face scrunching in mental agony when he realizes the corner of his novel is soaked with the spill of orange juice.

“She said she knows you from class Yoongi, but she doesn’t think you’d like her. I think you would though! Maybe you should try to talk to her next class.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi readily agrees, new found vigor in his speech. “Maybe…”

Over the next several weeks, Yoongi is sure that coincidence isn’t what found his stare locked to yours, Jeongguk’s overheard conversation clearly leaving your interest peaked about Yoongi who was forced to make his own gazes less frequent for fear of being caught. His first sighting after he floated the walls of his home like a ghost in haunt was next lecture.

The nerves that ate at his skin the first instance of your curious scan was turned bearable by the itching of excitement to his every nerve, skin alight with the tango of possibility traversing his very being. His attention was wayward, standing at the head of the class, scooping the pages required for lecture from the overflowing desk, a minute ‘excuse me’ cutting through the thick of his cogged brain.

“Yes?” Was his response, regurgitated dumbly despite the forming line waiting for him to budge to his waiting seat.

“Uh...could I get by...papers.” He smiles, unintentional, but the effect is the duck of your head, refusal to meet his eyes under such a heated gaze. He’s left to stare a moment longer before the snag of his sleeve, Hoseok forcing him away, calming the mob of students too impatient to momentarily still for the fruition of his romantic interest.

Lately, your exit from class seems somehow quicker than usual, the practiced haste too much for him to master, another obstacle to his formal introduction. Though it seems your professor can read the tension that hovers the expanse of the classroom, a thread itching to be linked by two lovers, one unknowing of the delicate pull she has on her soul suitor.

“Okay!” The professor stands at the front of the room, barely holding the attention of the class, barely holding Yoongi’s attention until he speaks once more. “Instead of a formal midterm, I want you all to complete a joint essay, yes you heard me correctly! I want you to pair up and write an essay on the topic of your choosing—as long as that topic is related to the course.”

Yoongi perks up, ignoring the telltale that Hoseok hopes to grab him as soon as the class is dismissed because Yoongi has a plan of his own.

“Of course I won’t force you to choose a partner, I know some of you prefer to work alone. But no more than two people to a group. Now I can see that you’re all on the edge of your seats, but I’m feeling generous today, so you’re dismissed, but your pages are due on my desk beginning of class Monday!” The final words of the professor send the class into frenzy, those who were paying attention quick to grab hold of their half and those who weren’t suddenly catching up and scrambling for someone who’ll make do.

“Hey, we’re partners, right?” Hoseok looks at Yoongi hopeful, but Yoongi already has his sights set on you, watching everyone link up, resigned to working solo.

“Nah, I’ve got another partner in mind if that’s okay with you.” Hoseok catches the drift rather quickly, wide smile forgoing slight disappointment at his loss of the sure A on his midterm.

“Go for it,” Hoseok gives a light shove forward, much appreciated by Yoongi whose heart threatens to burst from his chest, sure that the nerves are painted on his face like a slice of Van Gogh. He’s just in time, your hands shoved into your pockets, ready to leave the suffocation of a space smothered in unwelcome.

“Hey.” Yoongi can see the uncertainty, your eyes glancing to either side to ensure that he is certainly addressing you.

“Hey…”

“So, this midterm thing is kinda weird, right?” He can already see the snicker on Hoseok’s face, though his friend is posted at the door opposite him. Your own lips quirk, his only thought of coherency aimed at how cute the action is. You rock on your heels, he notes your style isn’t far off from the bones of Jeongguk, hoodie black and heavy boots ready to stomp through endless waves of the nauseating sea of university.

“Yeah...I guess it’s a little unconventional. But great for people who get test anxiety,” You humor him, hands withdrawing from jeaned confines to gesture wildly to the room void of anyone but the three remaining vessels, two of which are engaged in unlikely exchange. “Did you need something?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry! I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a class to get to and I have a thing about being late. I figure there’s a reason you’re talking to me seeing as we’ve never actually talked before…” You catch yourself in ramble, tripping over phrases whilst Yoongi watches without missing a beat.

He’s incredibly taken with the way the words flow without pretense, a nice change to the closed off demeanor people falsely associate with you. He would listen for a lifetime to the things you have to say, hopefully with the clasp of finger and longing glances. Your intent is nonsense, nerves eating away at the buds of your tongue. To him it’s a poetry specially curated, a tickle to his throat bringing forth the soft laughter that halts your speech.

“I’m sorry, you go ahead I’m just...nervous.”

“No no, don’t apologize, I like listening to you,” He coos when you smile, quick to recover before your eyes, wide and attentive find his own once more, now notably softer, safer. “I love your smile too…”

“You’re not so bad yourself…” Soft spoken and not altogether sure is the way you speak, your class long forgotten, a blip in rear view shadowed by the shining beacon before you. “So…?”

“Right, right...I was just wondering if you’d maybe wanna work together?” Despite compliments and hinted flirtation you’re taken aback by the offer, your eyes skirting Yoongi completely, raising question to the figure station by the exit. Hoseok offers you a smile you can’t help but return his thumbs raising in the affirmative.

“He’s all yours,” Hoseok assures, taking his leave prematurely, Yoongi still waiting for confirmation.

“No pressure, just thought I’d ask. I think we’d work well together,” And I wanna know you, he withholds for fear of frightening you more so than the sudden acknowledgement already has.

“Well I don’t know about that, but yeah I’d love to if you’re sure.”

“I’m positive. Wanna meet at my place after school?”

“Sounds good.” You pull your phone swiping at the screen before passing it over. “Just text me when you’re free.”

“I’ll text the address,” He knows it’s unnecessary, just taking precautions to shield from the admission of his eavesdrop the last time you occupied the residence. You wait until you’re once again clutching the spherical confines of your devices, checking and double checking that all digits are present, not unfamiliar with the harsh reality of falsehood buried beneath genuine interest.

“Oh, I actually know where you live. My friend Jeongguk is one of your roommates, so I know my way.”

“Well I’m sorry we’ve missed each other, that it took me so long to say hello.” Yoongi’s legs lead him half a step closer, an accidentally purposeful close of the gap between, your eyes avoid the bottom half of his face, focusing instead on the bill of his cap and the dark hair tickling the edges.

“Guess you’ll just have to make up for it somehow.”

“Guess I will.”

Your visits to Yoongi are routine over the next week, the laughter filling the hectic halls caused by him rather than his roommates. He’s seen more of you in a week than he could’ve hoped in a lifetime, even more confused about the way you’ve been outcast by a majority of your major. He’s awed by your lack of reaction to the judgement of peers, often citing it as a joke, sarcasm lacing the words.

It’s the day before assignment is due, you’re perched at Yoongi’s desk, he’s laying on his bed, tossing his basketball in mock free throw simultaneously with his toss of ideas while your fingers type vigorously in final draft.

This particular evening leaves you alone with Yoongi, the other members of the house trying and failing to convince you to join for their weekly outing to the nearest bar where they would no doubt drink their weight to poorly prepare for the week to come. Yoongi was swift to opt out, much preferring your company to the stench of stale beer and jokes poorly executed by Jin after he downs his fifth shot.

You were insistent that he let you handle the rest of the paper, just pages standing between you and your final product, but he’s too fond of the way your post-its decorate the shelf over his desk, different colored notes for every paragraph, the ink of your pens highlighting each point in magenta saturation. He’s obsessed with the way you hunch to close to the pages of your textbook while scolding him for getting too close to the screen of his laptop in the next breath.

He can’t help the thought of what could be, close calls and a hair’s breadth stepping between you all week. It’s the price of seven roommates and a lock loosened with the jiggle of a handle. The hesitancy that still fills your pupils despite the easy way his words lace with genuine interest.

Yoongi remembered what it was like to notice, deciding that it’s much better to experience you. The moment is delicate, your soft suggestions and argumentative replies tossed with a hint of tease lacing the bite of your tone. He doesn’t try to hide the smile that breaks the mold of his face, lips dampened by the press of gums prominent from healthy reach.

“Can I ask you a question?” He raises, your fingers slowing against the keyboard, chair swiveling to offer full attention. “Does it bother you...the whole ‘misery chick’ thing?”

He’s not sure what possesses it, but he is sure that knowing will make things easier, break a barrier that to him doesn’t exist. He knows your breath is baited, knows you’ve been waiting for the pull of the rug, so he offers a tug, a comforting teasing sort of thing to ease your mind and close the gap of misunderstanding that he could never blame you for.

“Can I ask you a question? Do you believe the whole ‘misery chick’ thing?” You counter, scooting along hardwood until your knees are pressed to his mattress, sinking into the cushioned flesh as far as it allows. Your stare is careful, not expectant of the negative or offended by the positive. “It’s okay if you do, just don’t lie about it.”

There's a sadness in your delivery and Yoongi notes it immediately. Your attempt to hide the twitch of your lip and the anxious fold of your hands in your lap don’t escape him. Your tone is even, your eyes much the same and he wonders how anyone could ever believe it, he’s grateful that he never did.

“Not for a second.” He responds almost immediately, waiting for any lingering doubt on your end. It never comes.

“Good.” Is your reply, just as even as the question itself. Your shoulders relax, posture not as stiff as before. “It does bother me, not as much as it used to, but it does. It bothers me that they don’t like that I’m not like them. I don’t mean that in the whole ‘I’m not like other girls’ way, but I’m just not Cathy college, you know? I don’t get excited about parties and drinking, I don’t need to go out all the time to have fun, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you if you do, but I don’t and because I’m not like everyone else I have to be ‘the misery chick’.

He’s sure you don’t realize it, but Yoongi see’s the build of tears in your eyes, unshed but there and it breaks him. Breaks him that something so trivial could be the defining factor of someone’s experience, that you can hide it so well at the cost of your own happiness.

“I mean, it’s college, you’d think that people have better things to do than come up with reasons to ridicule someone, but I guess I have too much faith.” You finish, glancing up to find Yoongi all ears, lips etched in frown. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for all of that.”

“People suck.” Is all he says, hand extending toward you, inviting you to join him on his island, silent but sure. You crawl the length of the mattress, your back pressing the headboard, fingers laced with his own, warm and sweaty from nerves, yours or his neither of you are sure.

“People do suck.”

“I know what’ll make you feel better.” He offers, thumb running along the jagged edges of your knuckle, skin kissing skin. You lift your head, half leaning on his shoulder so your eyes meet, a reflection of picture perfect, a record in perfect sync.

“Yeah?”

“You should go out with me.” Yoongi doesn’t expect a snort, but the response is exactly what he receives your head averting to conceal your laughter, hands shielding your face from the expanse of an ego deflated by the graze of your accidental needle. “Why are you laughing?”

“No I’m not—I just—you’ve been looking at me like I’m completely insane all semester! I didn’t think you liked me, I thought you were looking right through me...I kinda thought you were just coming to class high every day.”

“I don’t even smoke, those were not the eyes of a stoner, they were the eyes of a man who’s very fond of you.” Yoongi defends his position, his usually dormant stare now bugged to exaggeration, unavailable for serious consideration.

“My mistake, though I don’t know whether to be weirded out or completely flattered.”

“You better be so flattered that I can see hearts in your eyes because you were pretty quick to agree to be my partner for this project!” Yoongi keeps the charade, glad to lighten the tension and draw from the heaviness of the previous conversation. It’s not a chapter that’s closed, but the beginning is the build and he’s planning an entire novel with you, so he figures his time isn’t limited by the tick of a clock nearing the midnight hour.

“I heard I’ve got a sure ‘A’ and I’d be an idiot to pass that up.”

“You could get a passing grade in your sleep, you can’t fool me. But you can go on a date with me.”

“So you, cool guy Min Yoongi, want to go on a date with me, ‘the misery chick’?” You gasp, hand clutched to your chest, Yoongi’s hand catching hold and bringing it to his own, to the beat of his heart, the bass begging for a melody that only you can satisfy.

“More than anything.”

“Well when you put it that way I have no choice but to say yes, but to be clear, I’ve definitely seen you looking at Hoseok with that same look in your eyes so you might wanna sort some stuff out first—”

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #suganetwork #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #yoongi x reader #myg x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #yoongi oneshot #bts oneshot #houseofddaeng

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ma-tsu-the-male-goddess · 3 years

Text

The Men at the Table

(the title is Patton pending, but here y’all go!)

Tags: Gen, Outside POV, Written in Second Person, 1K

Read it on ao3 instead! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/32793643)

There is a man at the table in the back when you start your shift, sipping on a steaming cup of coffee and staring hard at his laptop screen. He has a quiet sophistication about him, glasses perched on his nose and dressed far too formally for the small coffee shop. The round table is meant to fit a larger family, but there’s no reason to comment on it; there are no other customers at the moment. You give a nod at the zoned-out cashier as you walk to the back to get your schedule fixed.

By the time you make it back to the front, another man has joined him. He’s somehow even quieter than the first and swamped in a purple hoodie with smears of dark makeup under his eyes; a messenger bag is slung across the back of his chair. Neither are speaking, but Glasses has shifted his work slightly so that Hoodie can see his screen. They make for an odd pair, like a teacher and his student, but strangely relaxed with one another. Hoodie is communing with his own mug, just breathing in from time to time to bask in the smell of it. It’s a calming sight.

Later, as you’re restocking the chip bags in front of the counter, a passing shape startles you. Twisting around, you see a third man approach the table. You must have missed the ring of the bell above the door. He’s wearing the same glasses as the teacher-dude at the table, but a grey cat sweater is tied around the shoulders of his light blue Polo. He seems much more approachable than the other two, nearly bouncing in his seat as he settles near straight across from the other two. Teach and Hoodie glance up, lips twitching into gentle, welcoming smiles at Polo. His face isn’t visible from this angle, but you have a feeling that he’s returning them with a blinding grin. Something about the arrangement strikes you as off, but there’s nothing more to be done as you get called away to clean up a spill, and things start to get busy.

The next time you glance out at the floor, there’s a man in a bowler hat, of all things, staring out of the window at the front of the store. After a moment, he turns around, and you catch what must be stage makeup stretching snake scales up the left side of his face. You don’t recognize the character he is playing, but the slit pupil contact is certainly attention-grabbing enough. It’s surprising that none of the tables around him react to it as he passes them to join the trio at the back. Even as he sinks into the chair next to Polo, he seems too skittish for his general ensemble. A gentle hand settles on his for a moment, a breath calms him down. Something about them is still niggling at you, but you can’t quite pick it out yet.

It’s during the afternoon rush that the most ostentatious of their group swans in. Two men, dressed in respective black and white, green and red princely outfits. It’s impossible to hear them over the bustle of the crowd, but they’re obviously arguing with each other. The darker-dressed one has a mustache and seems almost gleeful in their spat, but the one in a sash is angrily gesturing in large motions, barely missing the people around him as he passes. Mustache sits first, turning away from Sash mid-sentence and giving a wide grin to the rest of the table. Bowler Hat smirks at first at him and then a fuming Sash still standing behind his own chair. An unimpressed eyebrow raise from Hoodie makes Sash slump and sit between him and his companion.

It’s these two that finally tweak your brain to what is odd about the whole situation. Were there not six of them, you would have pegged these men as identical twins. Differences in makeup, clothing, and posture aside, they all look exactly the same. It was difficult to match them at first because of how strange they all are, but now that you’ve noticed it, it’s impossible to ignore. Only your coworker’s tap on your shoulder drags you out of your shocked staring. Her own questioning and slightly confused gaze shames you into getting back to work, wiping down the crusty counters. One last glance at them solidifies your realization, and it's difficult to focus on anything else for the next hour.

The bell on the front door finally catches your attention from where you’ve been refilling the napkin dispenser. It’s another match to the group at the back. You watch as he walks to the table in the back, juggling the multitude of things in his arms and backpack. They all seem delighted to see him, in their own either understated or overt ways, each of them making room as he sits between Bowler Hat and Teach, shifting over plates and cups (When did those get there?) and giving him glancing touches to his shoulders and arms, making him feel welcome.

It’s odd, that these six have sat in such a way that makes perfect room for their last member to join them. But, what takes a moment to strike you is the way they are utterly silent. Not a word is spoken; they barely even look at each other, but there is no way they would rather be somewhere else. The customer bell at the entrance steals your attention again for a moment, and you watch a boisterous family bustle their way into the small-ish coffee shop. When you turn back, you can’t stop yourself from staring. There’s only one man at the table. The man who walked in last with his arms full. He’s now typing frantically, a small twitch of his lips as a funny thought crosses his mind. The men around him are all gone. No notebooks; no dishes; no pulled out chairs. All that’s left is a man, sitting alone at a table too large for him. Somehow, not a thing about it seems out of place.

The only question you have is how the other six could have possibly left when you were looking at the only exit.

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prismatales · 4 years

Text

Fade

Word Count: 3.4k

Bingo slot: Vigilante AU

Pairings: Takami Keigo x Reader

Tag/Warnings: Slight violence

Synopsis: Dealing with this vigilante was almost like an endless game of tag. Hawks knew it was only a matter of time until he found out her identity. What he didn't expect was realizing she was closest than he thought.

A new entry for @bnhabookclub's bingo event! Thank you @pixxiesdust for helping me bounce off some ideas! This one-shot's for my dear wifey @Hawks-senseis!

“Suspect’s heading your way Hawks. They’ve sustained a fair amount of injuries, should be a piece of cake for the number two hero.” The intercom died down with a wave of static.

Sighing tiredly, Hawks kept his regular pace, flying leisurely across the dark sky cluttered with stunningly bright stars. The scenario above and the lights from the buildings dispersed all across the city, shining just as strongly as the dark sky in the middle of the night, are a scenario that he could easily consider breath-taking.

If only he wasn’t so busy chasing after this one particular villain, then he’d certainly be relaxing at the top of a building, admiring the view with a satisfied smile, allowing the soft breeze of the night to brush peacefully against his face. All while enjoying a nice, warm canned drink in the middle of this cold night.

Maybe once this runaway criminal was finally trapped behind bars, ready to face justice, Hawks could actually manage to take that well-deserved break. And perhaps, some of his favorite yakitori would accompany that drink as well.

“Come on, where is he?” For a villain as quick on his feet as the reports mentioned, this guy was seriously taking his sweet time to show his god-damn face. Groaning impatiently, Hawks finally had enough and began flying in the direction the villain should have come from a long time ago.

But what he witnessed in its place was more than enough to make the hero do a double-take. Not only was this villain face down on the floor, but there was also someone else standing tall above him, tying up the struggling, seething criminal, who kept swearing like a sailor as he attempted to get out of the restrains.

“What took you so long birdy?” Said person slowly turned around to face the winged hero. When their “eyes” met, Hawks couldn’t help groaning in disdain once he recognized that costume. A black sleeveless hoodie, accompanied by matching pants and military boots. But the most characteristic trait was that white kitsune mask, adorned with six stripes across the cheeks; two purple ones, and a gold one in between, a total of three marks adorning both sides of her ‘face’.

“You again? I swear this is the fourth time this week!” Hawks ran a hand all over his face out of frustration. Even with that mask on, he could feel the smug vibes around her, and he could almost swear she also gave him a sly smirk.

“You should know this by now. Vigilante work is illegal.” Eyes wandered up into the dark sky as he breathed in deeply, before exhaling slowly as he looked back down. Hawks turned his attention back at the woman standing before him with her hands on her hips, confidently angled to the side.

“And you should know by now that isn’t going to stop me. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.” Jerking the rope in hand, she easily pulled the villain off the ground, dragging him in between her and the hero standing before them. “Here, Merry Christmas!”

The villain was sent crashing down on the groaning hero, courtesy of a swift kick to the back. The near-collision was a good distraction for her. As Hawks became busy catching the delinquent, a loud “poof!” was heard, and when he looked up, there was a golden, glittery mist, and at the top of the roof, she observed him for a solid minute, before running off.

“Oh no, you won’t!” Hawks quickly pushed the stumbling criminal away from himself, and towards the arms of an upcoming sidekick that only happened to appear at exactly the same time this vigilante ran off on her own. Quickly spreading his vermilion wings wide open, Hawks took off into the sky, decided to catch this girl once and for all, so he could finally give her a piece of his mind.

He had to admit, she was pretty fast. Once he got her on sight, she was already a good distance away from the scene, and she hadn’t even used her quirk to keep the distance with the blond.

Looking back over her shoulder, he could almost feel that smug grin again as she kept jumping swiftly between rooftops, not losing balance for a single second as she kept dashing with an elegant and balanced step.

Finally, Hawks eventually caught up and landed in front of her with a soft thump as his feet touched hard surface below, wings raised high in the air folded into themselves before settling down on his back. Hawks smiled at her nonchalantly as both of them stayed still, looking at each other for a solid minute before he coughed in his hand to break the silence.

“You do realize this is illegal behavior? don’t you, Fade?”

“Fade” just tilted her head, feigning innocence while staring at the hero before her. She may be wearing a disguise to hide her identity, but even with it, Hawks just knew she was giving him a teasing smile underneath that mask.

“Oh? Is that so? What are you gonna do about it, pretty bird? Handcuff me?” She places her hand closer by the wrists, presenting them before the hero, it was a taunt, a challenging for him to arrest her at once, and for a second, he was tempted to clap those wrists in between the metallic restrains. “First you’re gonna have to catch me!”

Fade’s body started giving out the same sparkly smoke from before, just to be interrupted as a hand wrapped itself firmly around her wrist, snapping her out from focus, and preventing her from teleporting away from the hero.

“I just did. Now, you have to report everything to the police and who knows? Maybe they’ll let you off the hook easily, maybe they won’t.” But Fade wasn’t fazed in the slightest by his statement or even bothered moving from the spot. “As much as I appreciate your help back there. I’m gonna have to turn you in for illegal hero activity.”

His hand reached out for her mask. The idea of seeing her face for the first time after dealing with her intervenience for months now was so enthralling, that he completely missed it when something hit him on his side with force, knocking his breath away for just enough time for Fade to quickly escape from the hero’s grasp.

“For one of the fastest heroes out there, that sure was a slow reaction!” Her teasing laughter echoed through their surroundings like that of the Cheshire cat itself as she held a retractile staff in hand. Fade began walking backward with a bounce on her steps before a golden, glittery mass spread around her figure before teleporting her away from the scene much to Hawk’s frustration. He was so close this time!

“Shit, she’s good.”

Feathers fluttered wildly around in the air out of pain and pent-up frustration. This was the first time he managed to get this close since the very first time they met. He glared irritatedly at the spot where Fade once stood before him with a confident stance.

The chance to look for Fade disappeared just as fast when the shrill sound of his transmitter went off inside his ear. The voice of the sidekick who had taken the villain off his hands could be heard through the other side, as they gave the hero a status report.

Disappointed, he opted to call it a day before heading back home. Next time he ran into Fade it would definitely end with her caught. But right now, his body begged for some well-needed rest that unfortunately couldn’t be provided just yet, remembering the piles of pending paperwork, waiting patiently at his desk back at the agency, Hawks sighed tiredly before heading back to the office. Today would end up being one of those nights he’d spend sleeping on the couch even though he was single...

“So much for a nice, quiet night…”

The next day was followed by clear skies, engulfing everything around with a pleasant warmth. At least this was something Hawks could enjoy with tranquility as he walked to one of his favorite restaurants in town, mouth-watering at the idea of having one of his favorite meals and one of the house specials.

As soon as he stepped inside the small building packed with people, a cheerful chorus welcomed the hero inside. Every employee and customer inside greeted the hero eagerly, excited to see one of the top heroes coming for one of his favorite dishes and his usual meal at that small, but enjoyable local that greeted everyone inside with their tender, family-friendly environment.

After chatting with some of the staff and fans, Hawks quickly strolled towards his usual spot and took a seat, staring outside through the crystal walls separating everyone inside from the outside. Not only did This little restaurant had some of the best food, but it also had some of the best views he could ask for, the perfect spot to relax as he watched people passing by and at the same time he kept an eye open for any villain activity.

He may be on break, but you never know when a hero is needed, right?

The soft clank on the table catches his attention and he smiles knowing just who is beside the clothed table, serving a glass of cold water with a sweet smile on her face.

“Is nice to see you again Hawks!” You welcomed him happily before pulling out the small notepad from a pocket at the side of the uniform’s small apron, next was a pen that spun gracefully in between your fingers before its inky tip was pressed over the smooth, blank paper. “Let me guess, having the usual again, am I right?”

The hero just leaned on his hand with a chuckle “You know me too well, don’t you, y/n?” He observed you, quickly writing down his order without having to ask twice for anything else. sides? something extra? You already knew his order like the back of your hand.

Speaking of hands….

If there was something Hawks as good at was being observant, as he noticed the bandage carefully wrapped around the girl’s wrist and the slight, almost unnoticeable wince she gave every now and then as she had to move her hand in a way that put pressure on the joint.

“Aaaalright! The house’s special coming up hot! Same drink, as usual, right?” He nodded in response. Despite the discomfort from the small injury, you kept serving the hero with nothing but a cheerful smile and attitude of literal sunshine that always left the hero entranced.

A few minutes later, he saw you coming back with a steaming plate of fried chicken, but not just any fried chicken. This restaurant was well-known for its secret seasoning they used to marinate most of their dishes. Not only that, but it was also covered with this rich, homemade spicy sauce that left everyone on cloud nine after the first bite, and even those who weren’t fans of spicy food ended up obsessed with its peculiar flavor.

“Here you go Mrs. Hero! The house special with a side of fries, enjoy your meal!” As soon as the plate was placed down, one of his hands grabbed yours. His slender fingers traced the outline of the bandage with a soft caress that sent shivers down your spine.

“What happened to your hand, y/n? Is not what I think it is, right?” He asked, voice full of concern as you began stuttering.

“I-it’s nothing, I just tripped back home and landed on my wrist, don’t worry about it, Hawks!” You reassured the blond, pulling your hand back from his grasp before heading back to get his drink.

His gaze followed after you for a while. For a second he thought it had something to do with an abusive partner until he remembered you mentioning being single. How did he ever forget that when the two of you have been throwing mixed signals at each other for months now? He could still remember the first time your eyes met when he came to check the place out for the very first time and how much of a mess you were, after all, it was your first day of work.

So for the time being Hawks just let it slip with some hesitation, eventually he stopped worrying so much before taking a small bite of his chicken and groaning with gusto by that mouth-watering flavor of the sauce, the food in this place was really out of this world.

If he hadn’t been so busy with his food, Hawks would have noticed the cautious look you sent him from the other side of the local, waiting for another customer to order.

A few weeks later…

Once again, Hawks was busy flying through the skies as he patrolled the city at late hours of the night. The way the building’s lights illuminated their surroundings was a sight to remember when you had the chance to see them high up in the sky.

For once, it appeared that he was finally gonna have the chance to enjoy the scenario without a single disturbance. That is until he sees someone sitting at the edge of a rooftop, who seemingly had the same idea as him as they leaned back looking at the vast, dark sky.

That’s when he caught sight of that all too familiar mask. The mere sight was enough to make him groan internally, knowing that whenever Fade was around, the night would be anything but calm…. But then he thought, maybe this time he’d finally get the chance to find out just who was hiding underneath that mask.

Quickly, he landed a few feet behind the masked hero and tried to get close enough. But instantly she leaned forward, letting herself fall off the building before disappearing into a golden burst. surprised, Hawks strolled all the way to the edge and looked down, just to see nothing but that unique mist.

A foot quickly shoved him from behind, followed by that peculiar laughter as he struggled to regain balance for a second, completely caught off guard by the vigilante’s antics before his wings began thrashing wildly in a desperate attempt to help him regain balance. And once the hero finally was back on his normal stance, he turned back to give the cackling girl gripping the sides of her stomach a small glare.

“ahahaha! The look on your face!” She wiped away an imaginary tear, or maybe she was actually tearing up, Hawks couldn’t tell with that cursed mask “Should’ve brought my camera, that look was gold!”

Fade’s shoulder kept trembling the more time she spent laughing at the winged, who’s only response consisted of a bashful glare in her direction.

“Oh come on birdy, don’t give me that look.” Fade walked up to him, hands placed confidently over her hips as she leaned forwards, face tilted up slightly to be face to face with the hero. “For someone who enjoys teasing others non-stop, you’re too easy to rile up y’know?”

She quickly jerked her body back to dodge the hand that aimed for the mask, narrowly missing those leather gloves, which barely grazed that intricate piece of wood that did such a good job when it came to hiding her identity from both the heroes and the public.

“Geez, so forward! Buy me some dinner first!” She sassed, walking backwards again, with a turn on her heels Fade turned her back on the blond and began running away. The sound of wings fluttering swiftly pulled the corners of her hidden lips into a smirk when she literally felt as the hero quickly followed after her.

But if there was something Fade was just as good as Hawks, was at speed. Inhaling deeply, her body became surrounded into golden energy before she rapidly began teleporting from building to building, a special movement that focused on distracting her foes.

Her little trick managed to confuse Hawks only for a moment, quickly he used some stray feathers in order to pinpoint her next location with the aid of their ability to detect vibrations. The feathers managed to feel a small trembling in the spot where she was meant to appear next and Hawks quickly moved in position.

Just as predicted, that golden burst appeared all of sudden and this time Fade nearly crashed into the hero standing in her way, had it not been for her quickly maneuver, placing her hands on the hero’s shoulder to propel herself high in the air, nearly sending Hawks crashing down on the floor.

“Getting slow, aren’t you birdy?” She mocked him, still in the air while he growled in frustration “Maybe you should tone it down on that spicy chicken and extra fries!”

…Wait a second…

He quickly turned around with eyes widened in realization, that sentence was like the missing piece he was looking for “What did you just say?”

The realization hit Fade like a slap to the face, her body became tense once she realized what she told him. Just that little bit of information was more than enough for Hawks to know her identity once and for all. After all, he was no idiot, he just pretended to be.

“You idiot…!” She whispered to herself before attempting to teleport once again, but this time Hawks was ready. In the blink of an eye he had already caught up to her, when she teleported again the stray feathers were already doing their job looking for her next location, the chase quickly turned to Hawk’s favor when it became obvious just how nervous Fade had become.

There was one thing he just didn’t get...Why was someone like you doing as a vigilante? After getting to know you for months now, it was so hard to understand for him. But right now his main focus was to catch you. He knew the police would go easy on you, the only reason he said those words last time was that he was irked with Fade- well, you to be exact….

In the midst of his distraction, he barely noticed when you crashed into each other with force, knocking the both of you off balance before falling off the rooftop in a tangled mass of limbs. His protective instincts kicked in as he quickly turned around mid-air, pulling your startled body into his chest out of reflex. Somehow a part of your jacket had become tangled into his wings, preventing them from moving around to stop the fall…

It seemed luck was on their side when they fell into an empty alleyway. The trash bags littering the floor helping to cushion their fall, but they couldn’t help when Hawk's breath was knocked away by the impact on his back, as well as your weight landing harshly on top of him.

“You ok?” He couldn’t help asking, more worried about the girl in his arms than his own well-being. Hawks sighed with relief when you slowly lifted yourself up with a small, pained groan before looking at him, feeling slightly awkward once the realization hit in, that you were sitting on top of the winged hero.

He received no vocal answer, but rather a physical one as your hand grabbed the lower part of the mask to lift it off your face for a small moment, then swiftly you leaned down to plant a deep kiss over the male’s soft lips.

The gesture caught him off guard at such point, that for a minute Hawks forgot how to breathe. Eyes wide in surprise and body going stiff as all he could concentrate on was your soft lips moving against his own.

But before he had the chance to kiss back, you had already shoved him away by the shoulder with a devilish smile back in that sweet, flushed face as you slowly licked your lips teasingly.

“This isn’t over Birdy...See you around~”

You vanished from view in a flash, leaving behind a sparkling, golden cloud. As well as a stupefied hero laying into a pile of trash bags who only draped his arm over his face.

He would definitely need to have a chat with you the next time he went to the restaurant.

#bnhabookclub #mha imagine #bnha imagine #bnha hawks #takami keigo #keigo takami x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 | 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Rowaelin modern AU ▶ Masterlist

note: hi, this is my first multi chaptered fic so constructive criticism is always welcome. quick shout-out to @pansexualharrypotternerd for the invaluable help! Love you! 💖

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The only thing redeemable about a high school with a bunch of brats who had sticks shoved up their asses was recess. Half a day had passed and Aelin was already swarmed with homework, previous assignments still pending and she needed to prepare for the upcoming Maths test by the end of the week. Recess offered a much needed break.

It would go better if Lorcan stopped being such a hard ass though. "Please?" Aelin whined. "I will fail Math if you don't help me."

The bastard snorted. "You will fail Math either way because you refuse to listen to me when I teach." Lorcan was not wrong but Aelin shot him a glare anyway, picking at the miserable stuff they dared call food in this cafeteria. With the amount of fee the school charged, you would think they would serve quality food here but nope. It tasted worse than it looked which was saying something.

The two of them were the only ones at their usual table today. Fenrys had taken a leave because of catching the flu, Connall was sitting with his teammates today and Aedion and Lysandra were a no show, likely making out in some vacant classroom.

Lorcan had finished his lunch already and was waiting for her. Aelin chewed slowly, more like swallowed (the food was disgusting but she was hungry), eyes flitting from one table to another until they landed on a hooded figure sitting alone by the corner, the scowl on his face visible from a distance.

Rowan Whitethorn.

Lorcan followed her gaze to the corner, then said, "Whatever you are thinking, Ace, drop it. He is trouble."

He certainly looked like trouble with wicked looking tattoos covering half his face and his right ear pierced. The hood was pulled over his face, eyes trained on the empty tray of food. She had never seen him have lunch with someone else. Hell, she had never seen him talk with someone else. Most of the school was convinced Rowan communicated in grunts and nods, not words and that he was either a werewolf, a gang leader or included in some very shady business.

Aelin lifted her shoulders in a shrug, then changed the topic. She did not need Lorcan to go all overprotective brother on her. "You are sure you can't help me?"

"And have to spend extra time with you? Gods, no!" He made a dramatic show of throwing his hands up in the air.

Aelin smacked his shoulder, grateful that Fenrys was not here to join in on the teasing today. She pouted, rising from her seat and apparently, done eating. "I hate you, Salvaterre."

He rolled his eyes, walking beside her with his own tray towards the trash bin. "You love me, admit it."

Aelin scoffed, even though she did love him, rude bastard and all. "Not a chance," she said.

She wasn't sure what happened next or how but she slipped on some wrapper, there was a loud scream (likely her own), strong arms stabling her—probably Lorcan—and her tray of half finished food went flying through the air, the contents spilling on someone's clothes and hair.

Aelin froze when she realised who she had spilled her food on. Rowan had a blank look on his face, lips pressed into a thin line. With the notorious reputation he had, Aelin could not have chosen a worse person to pick a fight with. It took her all of one moment to summon that insufferable swagger that drove others mad, chin lifted and shoulders squared back.

She did not need anyone to know how nervous she was. "I am sorry," she said.

"I am sure you are," he drawled, the deep voice heavily accented. The scowl on his face deepened when she looked again, letting her know she had made a remarkable first impression and quite possibly pissed off the one guy she should not have fucked with.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Lorcan step beside her. He said, "She said sorry already, it was an accident."

"And I said I am sure she is," he stressed.

If the situation were different and her heart wasn't pounding so hard inside her chest, Aelin would have taken a moment to appreciate the lovely voice, the rich accents or the muscular build. Being around fitness freaks like Aedion and Lorcan had her used to towering male hunks but god, it suited him. He was a real package.

Too bad manners weren't included in it because he walked away after sending her a scornful glare.

"What an ass," Lorcan grumbled. "Let's leave before you manage to set off another hulking brute." He was still cackling when they parted ways for their next class.

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This was ridiculous. English had always been Aelin's favourite class but now she was trying to find reasons to avoid it because she did not want to run into Rowan. He didn't scare her, of course, but she did not feel like subjecting herself to his insults and temper after the day she had had. She tried to convince herself that they had been in the same class for years now. If he had never bothered anyone before, he wouldn't start now but as luck would have it, she reached the classroom five minutes late to find two unoccupied seats - one beside Rowan and the other beside her ex-boyfriend Chaol who was trying his best to look like he didn't know she was staring at him.

With a sigh, Aelin made her way to the back, sitting down beside Rowan. She turned to him. "I am sorry, you know?"

He had ditched the stained hoodie in favour of a white uniform shirt that outlined his muscles in a flattering way. They were only supposed to wear uniforms on a special occasion, founders day or on inspection days but his shirt was especially tight, sticking to the sculpted chest beneath the fabric.

"If I wanted to hear excuses, I'd have asked." Gods, why were all hot guys assholes?

She frowned. "It was an accident!"

"You stumbled on thin air, managed to right yourself but spilled your food on me and ruined my shirt," he retorted.

Her temper snapped at it's leash. Aelin had to grit her teeth to keep herself from barking out an insult. Why would she ruin his clothes on purpose? Before she could ask as much, Gavriel called the attention of the class towards the front. Her Uncle made a point to look at her in warning as if he had knew she had been fighting someone she shouldn't be fighting minutes ago.

She sneaked a glance at Rowan again, whorls of black ink peeking out from beneath the collar of the white shirt. She would be angry too if someone embarrassed her in front of everyone.

In good spirit, she offered, "Why don't I make it up to you by buying coffee?"

He ignored her.

Aelin didn't know if she was being brave or stupid as she poked him. "I could wash your hoodie or buy you a new one! Please, Rowan?"

He ignored her again, eyes trained on the blackboard. She was about to poke him again when Gavriel called from the front, "Miss Galathynius, will you please pay attention instead of chatting Whitethorn up?"

Some of the students snickered when Aelin rolled her eyes, cheeks flushing with colour. Just like him to draw all attention towards her and embarass her in front of her classmates. In his defense, she did claim her revenge every time by refusing to address him as anything other than 'Uncle Kitty-Cat.' She had a sneaking suspicion he liked it.

Minutes later, Gavriel announced, "You will all be partnering up for the next project. It determines twenty five percent of your grade so work hard."

"Are we allowed to choose partners?" Kaltain asked from the front.

Her Uncle answered, "Partner up with the person sitting beside you."

There were a few audible groans and excited whispers before class was dismissed. She would be partnered up with the guy who was intent on ignoring her. She was about to offer to do the whole project by herself (because that was a much better option than working with Rowan when he hated her guts) when Rowan rose from his seat with lightning fast speed and made his way towards the teacher's desk.

She made it in time to hear his request: "I would like to work alone on the project, sir. I won't want to drag Miss Galathynius' grade down with mine." His tone held enough bite that Aelin knew he knew she was listening in.

Gavriel scoffed. "Non sense! Aelin will be more than happy to assist you, Rowan."

She smiled tightly in confirmation before Gavriel left, the class almost vacant now. Students were filtering out of the door but Rowan stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"I have cheer practice next but we should meet up after that," Aelin said. "We can go to the diner nearby?"

Rowan only grunted in confirmation, sent her one last scathing look and turned on his heel, walking out of the door with his usual annoyed expression etched onto his face. Aelin sighed. If Rowan refused to even utter a word, it was going to be a real treat working together on this project, her only consolation being that she hadn't been paired with Chaol. Though maybe that would have been a better option.

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Tags :

@thesirenwashere // @judexcardanxgreenbriar //@fangirltrash74 // @the-dark-swan // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover

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#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #dancing in the dark #modern au #high school au #throne of glass #aelin fireheart #aelin ashryver #queen aelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin fanfiction

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years

Text

Sick Little Games: Thirteen

In the morning, when you come downstairs to eat breakfast wearing one of Clint’s hoodies and a pair of leggings, no one says anything about the day before. Thor kisses your cheek, and so does Bruce.

Sam can’t quite look you in the face. Yesterday had been terrifying. Even after Thor had pulled him aside and quietly explained what had been done to you all those years before. You give him a shy smile, and Sam flinches away from you. That hurts, and you look away quickly. You get your coffee and a pastry and slip out quietly, going to find somewhere to curl up and ease into your day.

You’re just about to take a bite of your donut when Steve finds you. And it takes effort not to roll your eyes.

“Hey,” Steve says, approaching slowly.

“Hey,” you answer, taking a sip of your coffee. He takes a seat and looks you over slowly, folding his hands.

“You okay?” he asks. You nod and shrug.

“How’s Bucky?” you counter, and Steve doesn’t miss that you sound detached. Not for the first time, Steve wonders how much you really remember about what happens when you’re in kill mode.

“Breathing,” Steve said, smiling a little, “You managed to scare the shit out of him. But he wasn’t close to death or anything.”

You nod, “That’s good. I don’t THINK I actually wanted him dead. Just to leave me alone.”

“What’d he do?” Steve asked, seriously.

“Enough,” you answer, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Y/N,” he pressed, “Help me understand this. Please? Bucky told me you’re crazy. That he turned you down and now you’re just pissed off at him. But. I know you.”

“He did, in fact, turn me down, months ago,” you snort, “But that wasn’t where it stopped.”

Steve gestured for you to continue, and you sigh.

“Look. I don’t know why, but Bucky decided I needed to be punished apparently. I’m not going to go into detail, but he took my feelings for him, and he used them. After that, and all the fallout, I left. I had intended to stay gone. Just... just to make it easier on everyone. I didn’t want drama. I didn’t want to have people choosing sides. I just wanted it to be over.”

Steve’s heart drops, “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Would you have heard me?” you counter, looking away. “The second I would have said anything, especially about the baby-”

“Baby?” Steve said slowly, a look of horror crossing his face. “Are you still-”

“No,” you tell him, taking a deep breath.

Steve nods, “Did you ever tell Bucky?”

“God no,” you laugh, “If he didn’t try to pressure me to make the choice he wanted, he might have just outright killed me.”

Steve wanted to protest. He wanted to say Bucky wouldn’t have done that, but... With what he’d gotten from Thor... or rather Bruce while Thor stood by and looked uncomfortable, and the few details you’d just given him. Well. He felt like gainsaying you was probably not fair. It had been hard for Steve to come to terms with this Bucky not being HIS Bucky any more after decades of torture. But it still rankled. He wanted this to not be true, but. You had no reason to lie. And he knew first hand how nice you had tried to be to Bucky. How much you’d done to try and make him feel welcome.

He should have realized you had a crush. And he should have kept an eye on Bucky. But he hadn’t. And he didn’t. And it had led you here.

“How- I mean-” Steve doesn’t know how to ask how you’re feeling. He doesn’t know how to apologize. All he can do is stammer at you and turn red.

“I’m okay, Steve,” you answer softly. “He- he took things from me that I can’t get back but. I’m okay. I’m here. And I made the best choice for me at the time. Even if it meant hurting all your feelings when it came to a boil. I knew that if I ran around talking about it, everyone would be so busy telling me what to do or what I needed, no one would hear what I had to say.”

Steve watches you sip coffee and sighs, “I’d like to tell you you’re wrong, but... I probably would have been buying a baby-sized Baseball cap. So.”

You snort, “I know you guys all think I’m a baby. But... I survived. I survived everything they did to me. And everything before then. I’ve fought gods and monsters right next to you. What do I have to do to prove that I’m strong enough?”

The Super Soldier looked at you and blinked slowly. It caught him off guard sometimes. The old soul that peered out of you from time to time. Weathered and beaten. Something he could recognize. He got caught up sometimes, in your sweetness. The youthful exuberance, as you demanded that everyone come with you to the zoo. Your joy at sparkly makeup and the sound of the music you played as you baked cookies that looked like pinatas. You basked in the brightness. You delighted in things that made you happy. Any little thing that made you happy. It was how you coped.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not the one who owes me an apology,” you say quietly.

“I know,” Steve said, nodding at Clint, who had found his way to you, Lucky at his heels.

You slip Lucky your last bite of the doughnut and kiss his nose, fondly, “Good morning, handsome.”

“Oh sure, kiss him hello,” Clint drawled without any real heat, handing you another cup of coffee and kissing your head.

You look up at him and smile, “His morning breath isn’t as gnarly.”

He rolled his eyes and sat on the arm of your chair; Steve smiled a little. It was cute. Grotesquely cute when you tucked yourself into his side and Lucky laid his head on your lap for pets. It was a little glimpse into some domesticity and you glowed. A soft kind of warmth that made him feel better. At the very least, you were healing. You were healing and Clint had only the best of intentions.

__________

Bucky sat with his feet on his desk cleaning his gun and Natasha leaned on the door and watched him for a second. You’d given her more details than you had given Steve. More mindful of Steve’s feelings for Bucky. And the spy was furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked. Her voice was calm and that’s what had Bucky startled.

“If this is about Y/N,” Bucky started.

“Of course it is you fucking asshole!” she said slamming the door shut.

“What do you care?” he countered.

“What do I care? Why wouldn’t I care?” she laughed bitterly, “This is Y/N we’re talking about. Do you know what they had to do to her to make her what she is?”

Bucky bolted to his feet, “What they did to her?” he barked, “They fucking babied her. They treated her like a kid. What’d they fucking do to her again?”

Natasha’s eyes widened in understanding, “You resent her,” she said, “You did all this just to make her suffer because you don’t think she suffered enough?”

“She didn’t!” he growls, “I spent literal decades in hell. And for what?”

Natasha sighed and threw a file on his desk, “You think she got off easy?” she laughed, “You think you’ve got a monopoly on torment? You wanna know why they didn’t have to break her? She was already broken, Barnes.” Natasha doesn’t say another word and walked out of the room. Afraid that if she stayed she’d hurt him. Hurt him a lot.

___________________

Clint ducked out of the way of your staff and grinned, “Gotta be quicker than that,” he teases.

“Just gotta wait for you to slow down,” you say calmly, sliding back as he swings his sword at you.

“I can go all night, baby,” he says, winking.

“We’ll see,” you answer, disarming him neatly, “Does that one count towards my tally or no?”

Clint looked towards his sword, well out of reach and took a moment to admire your cleavage where you had him pinned to the mats, “I’ll allow it,” he said enjoying the view your tanktop afforded. He’d like to lean up and nuzzle the soft skin. He really wanted to. But. There were rookies watching and he was supposed to be showing them how to repel magical attacks. You notice him staring and quirk an eyebrow, making him wink at you.

“Douchebag,” you murmur, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” he says, giving you a look that makes you blush, even as you’re trying not to giggle.

Tags:

@lancsnerd, @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess, @stevieang, @beautybyfire, @sunmoonandbucky @mrsfox79, @bbmommy0902, @mendes-fan, @iheartsebastianstan, @wtfcas @pinknerdpanda, @process-pending, @ladifreakingda, @leasly, @coldbookworm, @hv-chw3, @past-perfect-future-tense, @starkrobb @beardburnsupersoldiers, @petlaufeyson, @queenoftheunderdark, @potatoheadthewise, @thehyperactiveteen, @thefridgeismybestie, @boyett514, @an-awkward-human-1, @sunshine-and-riverwater

#Clint Barton #Clint Barton x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes X reader #Steve Rogers #natasha romanoff #angst #manipulation #abuse #flirting

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malereader-inserts · 5 years

Text

Andante, Andante | Ch. IX

You looked at him blankly, it takes a moment to realise he was talking to you and it takes another second that you like the way he says your name. You blink before nodding, to acknowledge him.

Word Count: 1,732

A/n: Sorry for such a long wait, but I think I might have to delete old requests that have been pending because I want to fresh start but also I have nothing, no energy for some of them. I hope you guys understand

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“I’m sorry again, Peter,” Rhodey sighs as he stares at the teenager.

Peter refused to move, nor speak or even acknowledge anyone around him. He was numb and angry. Rhodey sighs as his apology goes unnoticed. The teenager was so angry that he couldn’t react. Rhodey leaves Peter in peace as he shakes his head to the team.

“Nothing,” Rhodey sighs, looking upset with himself, “he’s really taking it hard.”

Tony looked behind Rhodey and through the glass wall. The team standing behind it as they worry for their teammate. They didn’t know how to help Peter, because the only person who could really help him was in a hospital bed next to him, unresponsive for the past two days.

Peter woke up the next day, from the building incident and the first thing he asked, despite his body aching and in pain, was for you. He panicked when you weren’t there to greet him, he panicked when Steve told him that you were unresponsive.

Peter freaked out when Tony relays the story. And everything came back to him, he remembers everything and wants to forget everything. You said his name, and yet, he wished that when you said his name it was under better circumstances.

He had imagined that you would slip up, not in a state of panic and the possibility of death.

He wished you were awake to mock him, that he’s spending each minute by your side hoping, praying you would wake up. He wished he could hear you grumble profanities under your breath as if you think no one could hear you grumbling away. He wished you were awake so you could tease him that he turned so red that he was hotter than the sun.

And yet, he was met with the unsettling silence.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony says softly by the doorway, his hands in his pockets as he looks at his protegee.

He pulls up a chair however Peter does not flinch at the scraping noise nor does he turn his head. Almost as if he was fixated on his place that he had become a statue.

“You know, (Y/n) wouldn’t be so happy if he knew you would be watching over him. You were injured too, Pete, you need to rest up,” Tony pointed out as Peter sighs.

He finally looks at his mentor, the first person he’s looking directly at them. His eyes brimming with tears yet all red and puffy. He’s exhausted, not from his injuries but from his crying. Tony looks upon his protege with pity as he opens his arms.

Pulling the boy into a tight embrace as Peter holds on to his mentor with such grip that Tony thinks that Peter’s afraid he’ll fall. Peter sobs into his jacket, as Tony brushes his hair, cooing and calming him down.

“It’s my fault, Tony,” His voice breaks, muffled as he was pressing himself tighter into Tony’s embrace.

“No, it’s not, Pete,” Tony sternly says, rubbing Peter’s back as he calms down, slowly but Tony couldn’t blame the boy much.

As the two separated, Tony grabs the box of tissues from nearby and offers them to Peter, who grabs them timidly. Wiping his face whilst Tony waited for him to catch his breath. Tony tried not looking at Peter with a pitying look, but he both looked all pathetic and Peter would stand by that.

“It’s not your fault Peter,” Tony reaffirmed as the boy stares at him with bleary eyes, “And I can guarantee that (Y/n) would say the same thing, in fact, he’ll probably tease you about crying over him.”

“He wouldn’t,” Peter sniffed, letting out a soft fond chuckle, “He’d grumble about him not worth crying about.”

Tony tilted his head and lets out an exhale as he placed a firm hand on the teenager’s shoulder, “Come on, we have to get you something to eat, change of scenery. And if (Y/n) wakes up, we’ll come right back.”

Peter looked over to your way before sighing and nodded. Hesitantly standing up and following Tony. Tony puts a hand on his shoulder, reassuring and caring but Peter can’t help but dread the separation.

Peter had been by your side since the Monday mission, he’s tried to be preoccupied with other things like watching his Netflix, listening to music, reading a book, hell he even tried studying ahead of the plan.

It was Friday, early morning, around three am. Peter’s lost the sense of time as guilt still ate him up. What he had not noticed that you had woken up. You thought you still had your eyes closed as you were met with near pitch darkness.

It takes you a moment to gather your senses and the crushing realisation of the pain jabbing you. Then it was the sound of the heart monitor then Peter’s nonsensical muttering to himself that you’ve convinced yourself you’re in your own torment of hell.

You adjusted yourself to lift your head up to see the bright light of Peter’s laptop glow onto his face.

“Peter?” You groaned, surprising yourself with your own rough voice.

He jumps when he sees you awake, almost breaking his laptop in the process. But, you don’t see the relief that washes over him, how his shoulders go from tense to relax and the beaming smile to see you awake and remembering him.

“Hey (Y/n).”

You looked at him blankly, it takes a moment to realise he was talking to you and it takes another second that you like the way he says your name. You blink before nodding, to acknowledge him.

“You need anything? Water? Doctor?” Peter asked, there was a state of franticness to his tone but you take no notice of it.

“Just,” You gasped in pain when you shift your position that Peter almost dropped his laptop to go to assist you, “Hold on, Peter, just put your laptop down before you break it and Stark won’t buy you another.”

You had your hand out to stop him from coming closer to you, you only dropped it down when he carefully places his laptop down. You let out a steady breath, slowly. You looked at Peter as he gazed at you, tilting his head as he remembers how much he had missed staring into your eyes, how much he adored how you subconsciously turn your eyes soft when you find something adoring about him.

You let out another huff of air, licking your lips as you relax your shoulders. You tilt your head at him and gave him a small smile.

“So what did I miss?”

“Pst,”

You groaned as you wake up to Peter crouching by your hospital bed. You rubbed your eyes as you leaned up to look at him, your eyebrows scrunched up together in confusion as you looked mildly confused and annoyed that you were disturbed.

“What,” You mumbled, the darkness settling as you can curve out the angels of his jaw.

“Sunrise, (Y/n), come join me.”

There was a faint smile playing upon his lips, the annoyance that was slowly building in you has flushed away as you sat up slowly, groaning as Peter helps you up. He helps you put on some sweats, shirt and hoodie on as you pulled on some shoes. He passes you a cane as the two of you lead yourself out the hospital room of the compound.

You found yourself finding familiarity in the steps of the first week of the bet when Peter dragged your ass out of bed. Peter hauls himself up the ladder first before reaching for you and your cane, almost effortlessly lifting you to the top. There was a static shock when your hands touched his, and you were sure it wasn’t your powers acting up again.

The fresh air hits you as you see him grin at you, you narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“What is this, Peter?”

“This,” Peter steps to his left, whilst your lips dropped the smile, “is breakfast, (Y/n).”

“Peter-?” You lost your train of thought as you beamed at him.

Picnic blanket laid upon the concrete roof, fairy lights decorated the edge of the blanket as there was a basket in the middle. He motions for you to sit down, worried that if you stand for too long that you’ll collapse. You roll your eyes but do what as he pleases as he sits by you.

“You’re a sap, Parker,” You chuckled.

“We’re going back to last names, ey? Thought we established that we didn’t anymore.”

You rolled your eyes again, but a grin was still upon your lips, “Alright, alright, whatever, Peter.”

Peter tries to hide the shudder as a shiver, but it still make his heart flutter and the stomach acid rise when you say his name. It’s almost natural to you like it had found home within your laughter and fondness of your mouth. He wonders if his eyes trick him when he catches you staring just a minute longer, he wonders if his eye fools him when he can see the admiration and love settle in those big eyes of yours.

Peter often wonders what your embrace would be like, and he dreams the range of ways your lips taste against his.

“Keep looking, Peter, you’re going to miss the sunrise,” You joked, there was a flush of blush undertone on your cheeks.

The sun blooms on the horizon, golden petals stretching ever outwards into the rich blue. It is the brilliant flower of the sky that warms our days. It is the invitation to a new day, that sunrise so ordinary extraordinary.

“Under the sun we are all the same,” Peter says softly and Peter let the soft amber glow of the sunrise pour through his fingers and onto his upturned face.

You relished in his state, your features softening as you remember those words. You had said out loud to him when you both first ventured here on the first week, and just like how Peter had admired you - Peter was Helios. The god of the sun, controlling the rising and allowing the soft hues of the morning to be absorbed by him.

And you found yourself smiling to yourself, biting your lip to conceal it. To conceal that you didn’t just love Peter Parker.

You were in love with Peter Parker.

Tagged: @locke-writes @yesthetrashbin @blackirisposts @idwithoutthesuperego @screamingmuffinsunite @fifi550 @vydante @batfam16 @kpopchangedmylifesstuff @chaotictyler @delphicillusion @daeshaunex2 @spideylovin @lewi-black @vances-violets @hey-cigasrette @vaijuiins-shelter @wobbleknocker @awkwardwintersoldier @wanna-plan-world-domination

#Andante andante #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x male!reader #x male reader #Avengers #avengers imagine

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