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verstappensrealwife · 5 months ago

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Casual (Part 2 of 2) - Max Verstappen x Reader

[max verstappen masterlist / lando norris masterlist / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... lando can't give her what she wants, but max can. ʚɞ fluff, smut ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 3200 words ʚɞ warnings: ex!fwb!lando x reader (Part1), Austria GP '24, crash into lando, small smut at the end.

PART ONE HERE

Previously…

“Maxverstappen1 has requested to follow you.” “Maxverstappen1 has requested to message you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Max, with his quiet confidence and genuine smiles, was a stark contrast to Lando’s fleeting attentions. You thought back to the brief conversations in stores, the way Max's eyes seemed to hold a depth of understanding, a kindness that Lando never showed. He had always treated you with respect, even in those short interactions, and now he was reaching out.

Curiosity and a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time—hope—bubbled up inside you. You hesitated for only a moment before accepting his follow request and opening his message.

“Hey, I hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee sometime?”

The simplicity and sincerity of his message were refreshing. Max wasn’t playing games; he wasn’t hiding you or keeping you at arm’s length. As you read his words, you realized how much you craved that kind of straightforward, genuine connection.

In that moment, you knew you’d rather be with someone like Max—someone who saw you as more than just a fleeting distraction. You typed out a response, feeling a sense of anticipation and relief wash over you.

“Hi Max, I’d love to. When are you free?”

...

You continued to ignore Lando for a week before your date with Max.

Was it a date? You weren’t exactly sure.

Max looked incredibly handsome sitting across from you in the cozy corner of a cafe in Monaco. Outside, the rain poured down, casting the sky in a grey and gloomy shroud, while the warm lighting inside gave him a soft, inviting glow. You sipped from the mug in your hands, savoring the comforting warmth as you stole glances at him.

The cafe was a charming little place, filled with the comforting aromas of freshly brewed coffee and baked pastries. The walls were adorned with vintage art and photographs of Monaco’s picturesque coastline, while soft jazz played in the background, mingling with the quiet murmur of other patrons. The rain outside added a rhythmic percussion, making the inside feel even more like a warm, intimate refuge from the world.

Max's eyes, a striking shade of blue, seemed to reflect the dim light, making them look almost ethereal. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers drummed nervously against the table, a small but endearing gesture that made your heart flutter.

“So, uhm, does your boyfriend know we’re here?” Max asked, breaking the silence. You almost choked on your drink at his question, frowning in confusion.

“B-boyfriend?” you repeated, setting the mug down and staring into his eyes.

He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. God, you were pretty. “Lando? Is he not your boyfriend?”

You shook your head quickly, almost too quickly. Max hummed thoughtfully, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Is that a good thing?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“Well, I’m glad, so I suppose it is,” he replied, his smile widening slightly.

“Oh, so you asked out a woman you believed was taken, Max?” you teased, a laugh escaping your lips.

Max chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I guess I just couldn’t resist,” he said, his voice low and sincere. The sound of the rain pattering against the windows created a soothing backdrop to your conversation, the world outside forgotten as you both basked in the warm glow of the moment.

Conversation flowed effortlessly between the two of you, each word drawing you closer. Max listened intently as you spoke, his eyes never leaving your face, and when it was his turn, his stories and laughter held you spellbound. Time seemed to slip away unnoticed in the warm, inviting glow of the café.

By the end of the evening, around 5 pm, the rain had eased to a gentle drizzle, casting a magical shimmer on the streets. Max walked you back to your house, the quiet of the evening amplifying the lingering tension between you. The city felt almost enchanted in the soft twilight, the air fresh and clean after the rain.

When you reached your door, you turned to face him, your cheeks tinged with a soft blush. “Thanks for, uhm, walking me home,” you said sincerely, your eyes meeting his.

Max nodded, waving off your thanks as if it was nothing. “It’s fine. It’s on the way to my apartment anyway,” he said. You knew it was a lie—his apartment was in the complete opposite direction—but you didn’t call him out on it, appreciating the gesture. “This was nice…” he added, clearly reluctant to let the evening end and searching for a way to extend the moment.

“Yeah, it was,” you agreed, your lips curving into a grin. “We should do it again?” Your voice lifted at the end, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Yes! Ahem—yeah, totally,” he coughed, a flush creeping up his neck. “Sorry—erm—you could come to a race… if you’d want that—obviously no pressure but—”

“I’d love to,” you interrupted, placing your hand on his chest to stop his nervous rambling. The feel of his firm, muscular chest beneath your fingers sent a thrill through you. “Just text me any details, and I’ll be there.”

He nodded hurriedly, his excitement barely contained. “Of course, I’ll send you everything. The next race is in Austria,” he managed to say, his words tumbling over each other.

“See you later, Max,” you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek gently. His skin was warm under your lips, and he immediately went bright red, his flustered expression making you smirk. “Text me,” you repeated softly.

With one last smile, you turned and disappeared into your apartment building, leaving Max standing there, staring at the spot where you had been. His cheek tingled from where your lips had touched, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how he wanted that feeling every day, forever, with you. As he walked back to his apartment, his mind raced with thoughts of you, replaying every moment of the evening and imagining the possibilities of what could come next.

— AUSTRIA, RED BULL RING. SUNDAY, 30 JUNE 2024.

Race day had finally arrived. You’d just gotten to the paddock that morning, the familiar roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filling the air. It felt strange being back, especially without someone rushing you away from prying eyes, trying to hide the fact you were there with Lando. This time, you walked freely down the pit lane, no longer shadowed by secrecy.

You caught a glimpse of the back of Max’s head up ahead, his distinct figure standing out among the flurry of activity. But before you could call out to him, you heard your name being shouted from behind. Startled, you spun around to see Lando jogging toward you, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“You got my texts?” Lando asked, slightly breathless as he stopped in front of you. “I thought you wouldn’t come, but… anyway, do you wanna go away from here? Talk?”

For a moment, you just stared at him, processing the unexpected encounter. No, you didn’t have feelings for him anymore, but seeing him again like this, especially in such a familiar setting, was still a bit of a shock. His presence stirred memories you thought you’d left behind.

“I—uhm,” you stuttered, searching for the right words to tell him to leave you alone, to fuck off, really, but the words tangled on your tongue. “Well—”

“Come on,” Lando urged, his voice softer, almost pleading, as he took a step closer. His hand reached out, as if to gently guide you by the arm, but you instinctively flinched backward, the movement sharp and defensive.

“Y/N?” Lando frowned, confusion clouding his features. He dropped his hand, the space between you suddenly feeling like a chasm. The familiarity in his tone, the way he said your name—it tugged at something inside you, but it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt or the reasons you were no longer together.

“I’m not here with you, Lando…” you say quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was invited by someone else.”

“Someone else?” he stutters, his expression flickering with disbelief. “You… who?”

Before you can answer, Lando’s eyes shift behind you, catching sight of Max Verstappen approaching with purposeful strides. The realization seems to dawn on him just as Max reaches you, his hand naturally resting on your shoulder as if it belonged there.

“When did you get here?” Max asks, his tone warm and completely ignoring Lando’s presence. It’s not malicious, but his focus is entirely on you, making Lando seem like an afterthought.

“About three hours ago,” you reply with a smile, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you.

“I could’ve picked you up,” Max offers, his concern genuine, though you quickly wave him off.

“Don’t be silly,” you say lightly before turning to Lando, who is still staring at the two of you, visibly confused and almost… jealous. “Yeah—Lando—Max sort of invited me.”

Lando’s brows knit together, his confusion deepening. “What—huh—sorry, what?” he stammers. “When did you two get so close?” His eyes dart between you and Max, searching for answers he can’t seem to find.

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “Erm, like a month or so ago…”

The connection clicks in Lando’s mind—the timeline of when you stopped speaking to him and when you started getting close to Max. The realization seems to sting, his lips pressing into a thin line as he hums in acknowledgment before shaking his head and walking away without another word.

“That was… weird,” Max mutters, watching Lando’s retreating figure for a moment before his attention snaps back to you. He quickly changes the subject, eager to make you feel at ease. “Come on, let me show you the garage. It’s the best place to watch the race.”

“The garage?” you ask, confused by his offer.

Max frowns slightly, equally perplexed. “Where else would you watch it from?”

“I—well, usually in the drivers’ room,” you admit with a sigh, memories of hidden moments flashing through your mind.

Max scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Of course, he would do that,” he mumbles under his breath, before focusing on you again. “I mean, you can if you want to, but here is fine by me. You’ll be right in the heart of everything.”

You nod, silently agreeing to watch the race from the garage, knowing full well that all the cameras would catch you there, recording every move and fueling speculation about who you were. But this time, you didn’t mind. Max’s presence beside you made you feel secure, as if you belonged right there in the spotlight with him.

After the race, the atmosphere in the paddock was tense, the energy electric with the aftermath of Max’s crash into Lando. Lando made it painfully clear how furious he was, his frustration palpable in every gesture and word. Max, on the other hand, seemed remarkably unfazed by the whole ordeal. He’d still managed to finish in the points and, in his mind, had taken a small victory by ruining Lando’s race in the process. For Max, it was a win-win.

As the crowd buzzed with post-race excitement, Max spotted you standing by the edge of the garage, waiting for him. Despite the chaos around him, seeing you brought a smile to his face. He didn’t have much time before he had to face a swarm of interviewers, but he made a beeline for you, nudging your arm gently to grab your attention.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“Oh—hey!” You turned, grinning up at him. “P5 is good,” you said, your eyes sparkling with pride for him.

“Maybe for Lando’s standards,” Max jabbed jokingly, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You laughed, the sound light and infectious, easing some of the tension that still hung in the air. “You’re terrible,” you teased, shaking your head, but the warmth in your voice made it clear you didn’t mean it.

Max chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, his tone playful. The way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat, and for a second, the noise of the paddock faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

He glanced over his shoulder at the waiting throng of journalists, his smile dimming slightly. “I’ve got to go handle those vultures,” he sighed, nodding toward the waiting press. “But I’ll find you after?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with anticipation. “I’ll be here.”

“Good,” he said, giving your arm one last, gentle squeeze before turning to walk away. As he headed toward the media, you watched him go, feeling a mix of pride and excitement. Even after everything that had happened on the track, Max was still the same—unflappable, confident, and now, undeniably connected to you in a way that felt both thrilling and right.

After the whirlwind of interviews, Max finally managed to break away from the paddock's relentless pace. The sun had set by the time he made his way back to his hotel, the darkening sky mirroring the calm that was beginning to settle over him. His thoughts, however, weren’t on the race or the questions he had just faced—they were on you.

When he entered his hotel room, it was quiet and dimly lit, a stark contrast to the loud, chaotic energy of the racetrack. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he closed the door behind him. He had texted you on his way back, a simple message asking if you’d come over. Now, as he stood in the middle of the room, his nerves started to creep in. There was something different about tonight, something he couldn’t quite put into words, but it was there, lingering in the air.

The knock at the door came just as he was running a hand through his hair, trying to settle his thoughts. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, opening the door to find you standing there, a soft smile on your face. You were a sight for sore eyes, the tension he’d been holding onto dissipating at the mere sight of you.

“Hi,” he greeted, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hey,” you replied, slipping past him into the room. You glanced around, taking in the minimalist decor and the soft, ambient light that bathed the space in a warm glow. “Nice place,” you commented lightly, but your eyes soon found his, and the room seemed to shrink around you.

Max didn’t respond immediately; instead, he just watched you, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again, but this time, with the clarity of everything that had happened today. Finally, he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice low and sincere.

You looked up at him, your heart beating a little faster. “Me too,” you admitted, the words coming out as barely more than a whisper.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with unspoken tension. Then, as if some invisible line had been crossed, Max leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss. It was slow, unhurried, as if he was savoring the moment, the taste of you, the feel of you against him. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he confessed, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer.

You smiled against his lips, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “So have I,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the admission.

Max’s response was a low, rumbling laugh that you felt more than heard. He kissed you again, this time with more urgency, the restraint from earlier slipping away. His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss deepened, becoming a desperate, hungry exchange that left you both breathless.

Without breaking the kiss, Max began to guide you toward the bed, his movements careful but insistent. When the backs of your legs hit the edge of the mattress, he paused, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. There was a question in his gaze, a silent request for permission, for reassurance that this was what you wanted too.

You answered him by tugging him down onto the bed with you, your lips crashing back into his as you both fell into the soft sheets. Max let out a soft groan as he followed your lead, his hands finding your hips as he pressed against you. The world outside the room faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other.

Time seemed to blur as clothes were discarded and soft whispers filled the room. Max’s touch was reverent, his kisses trailing down your body, worshipping every inch of you. There was an urgency in the way he held you, a need that had been building up ever since that first kiss in the paddock.

When he finally moved to join your bodies together, he did so with a slow, deliberate push that left you both gasping for breath. His name slipped from your lips in a soft moan, a sound that drove him wild. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he began to move, each thrust deep and measured.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, his voice strained with the effort to keep himself in check. “You feel… incredible.”

Your hands found his hair, tugging gently as you arched into him, meeting his movements with equal fervor. The tension that had been building between you all day finally reached its breaking point, and with one final, desperate thrust, you both finished together, your cries mingling in the stillness of the room.

Afterward, as you both lay tangled in the sheets, your bodies slick with sweat, Max pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you both tried to catch your breath.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion but laced with a quiet plea.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. “I wasn’t planning on leaving,” you replied softly, earning a tired but contented smile from him.

Max kissed the top of your head, his grip on you tightening just a fraction. “Good,” he whispered, his eyes drifting closed. “I don’t want this to end.”

As you lay there in the quiet of the night, wrapped in his arms, you couldn’t help but feel the same. Whatever this was between you and Max, it felt right, like something that had been a long time coming.

-----

tags :

@herexpertcollector @bingussthirdtoe @boady27 @some-girl-lost-in-this-world @iangelofmusic @abq654 @issi-loves-dannyric @f1fantasys @smoooothoperatorrrr @prudyhoo @0rrphiic @gaypoetsblog @bloodymug @tpwkstiles @forza-dolce @piceous21 @iforgotmynames @jzr201

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peachdues · 1 year ago

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SEASONS IN LOVE (PART II)

Sanemi x F!Reader (modern college AU)

Sanemi meets Y/N in January and isn't a fan. As the seasons pass by, their evolving relationship becomes defined by a handful snapshots from the various holidays throughout the year.

CW: modern college AU • 6.6k words • tooth-rotting fluff • college typical drinking and debauchery • some mildly suggestive content • Sanemi is a massive simp

PART ONE HERE

December 24th – Christmas Eve.

Sanemi was hunched over, back turned against the icy wind that threatened to shred through the layers of his coat and sweater, as he waited for someone to answer the door.

A few weeks ago, he would’ve said to anyone that he hadn’t minded the snow — after all, the snow is what led to Y/N smiling — at him, no less — for the first time since he’d met her, and that memory had been more that enough to keep him warm through the fall of every snowflake coating the earth.

He took it all back. Y/N’s smile was a damn pretty sight, but absolutely nothing could insulate him against the near sub-arctic winds that cut through him like a knife as he shifted impatiently from foot to foot on the Kanroji’s front porch.

“God dammit, Mitsuri,” he growled. He unwound a stiff arm from where it’d been tightly tucked against his chest, prepared to start pounding against the oak of her parents’ front door, when the pink party host threw it open, her smile bright and cheerful and warm in a way that Sanemi was not.

“It’s about time!” She chirped, standing aside to let her scowling friend through and into the front entryway of her home.

Mitsuri held her hand out as she waited for Sanemi to pass her his coat. “Everyone else is here already — help yourself to any snacks you want.” Mitsuri snatched the gift-wrapped package lodged under his arm before he could say anything. “I’ll take this,” she waved it, nose crinkling with amusement at Sanemi’s indignant glare. “And I’ll put it with the others!”

Before he could respond, his pink-haired friend traipsed away back to the open floor plan of her living room and kitchen, leaving Sanemi to brush the snowflakes that had gathered on his trousers and remove his boots and leave them with the others’ scattered by the closet of Mitsuri’s parents’ home.

Every year, the bubbly and exuberant pinkette hosted a Christmas Eve for her friends at her parents’ complete with an absurd array of holiday-themed snacks, games, and Secret Santa.

In years past, Sanemi only ever deigned to show up as a courtesy to his friend, eagerly awaiting the day when he could blame needing to take care of his siblings on Christmas Eve as an excuse not to go. After his family had been killed, however, Sanemi had begun spending the Christmas holidays with Kyojuro’s family, along with Tengen, and so, he’d been forced to continue the tradition, given the enthusiasm his flame-haired best friend had for the over-the-top celebration.

This year, however, was Y/N’s first time attending Mitsuri’s annual fete; and curiously, Sanemi found himself growing more and more excited as the time for the celebration drew nearer.

That excitement only bubbled in his gut as he padded towards the Kanroji’s packed living room, eyes scanning for the sight of the one he was most eager — and anxious — to see.

Y/N spotted him from her position on one of the overstuffed leather armrests by the fireplace and shot out of her seat, nearly toppling Shinobu in the process.

“You made it!” Her smile was blazing, a now permanent fixture on her face that Sanemi found himself sneaking furtive glances at throughout the day, afraid that he would miss it.

“Wait,” Y/N stopped an arm’s length from him as she ran her eyes over his form. “Are we matching?”

Sanemi looked down at the outfit he had thrown on (carefully selected) prior to leaving his apartment and back to the amused woman before him. She was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater, tucked into a pair of belted, vintage, loose jeans that she had cuffed to show her festive Christmas socks.

“Just the turtleneck. I don’t do jeans.” Sanemi snorted, flicking her nose affectionately.

Y/N, however, looked better than he. Her hair was loosely secured with a clip at her neck, and she wore no accessories save for a pair of oversized gold framed glasses that she claimed were to help with blue light strains, but Sanemi was convinced she just liked wearing them for fun.

He tried very hard not to stare too long at her full lips — painted a bright, festive red that Sanemi found he really liked.

“I should’ve brought my lipstick along, then we could’ve really twinned,” Y/N’s eyes were alight with her mirth as she teased him.

Had Sanemi been a tad bolder, he would’ve cheekily suggested another way he could get her lipstick on his mouth, but he wasn’t, so all he could do was grumble, a faint red staining his cheeks.

Mitsuri clapped loudly over the chattering group. “Friends! Dearly beloveds! Snacks are over there,” she pointed to a long table packed heavy with various holiday goodies. “And the hot chocolate bar is open! Get a snack and get settled before secret Santa!”

“When you say ‘bar,’ ‘Suri,” Tengen prodded.

The pinkette nodded solemnly. “Yes, you can make spiked hot chocolate, Tengen.”

The flashy, silver-haired man let out a whoop for joy as he made a beeline for the hot chocolate bar carefully organized by their pink-haired host. Before long, Tengen had blessed each of their drinks with a healthy splash of Irish cream, though Sanemi suspected the loudmouth’s own mug was nothing but the festive liquor.

“Nope,” Sanemi fought to keep the grimace off his face as he took a swig of his hot chocolate, the bitter burn of alcohol making him pucker. “Giyuu, drink this — it’s plain.”

The quiet, raven-haired man gratefully accepted the steaming mug from his friend and took a hearty gulp of it, frowning slightly when he realized Sanemi had indeed given him his own spiked drink.

Sanemi pretended to look affronted at Giyuu’s accusatory stare. “What? I thought you’d need it — aren’t you going home to Kocho’s after this?”

Giyuu considered Sanemi’s words for a moment before tipping his head back and swallowing the remainder of the mug’s contents.

Y/N came prancing over from the kitchen, her own mug of hot chocolate cupped between her hands, to where Sanemi now sat on the large sofa, but before she could sit down, Gyomei plopped down, nearly crushing her in the process.

“Apologies, Y/N,” the gentle giant said upon hearing Y/N’s squeak. “I didn’t realize you wanted to sit beside Sanemi.”

If Sanemi hadn’t known better, he would’ve sworn that was a blush spreading across her cheeks. “No worries!” She chirped, twisting around awkwardly to find a new spot.

Sanemi grimaced. He was about to tell her to sit on the arm rest of the sofa next to him, but Shinobu called her over first, the two girls squeezing into a single-person armchair, as Shinobu threw her legs over Y/N’s lap to make room.

Secret Santa proceeded without much fuss. Sanemi was happy to receive a box of high-quality matcha from his anonymous gift-giver, though Shinobu’s lack of a poker face gave away who’d gifted it. Sanemi winked at his tiny friend, clutching the tea box tightly to his chest.

Y/N was practically buzzing with excitement. Mitsuri had hardly discerned the name scrawled on the tag of her giftbox before she’d lunged forward, nearly toppling Shinobu out of her lap.

“My turn!” The expression on Y/N’s face was that of a greedy child’s as she wriggled her fingers demandingly at Mitsuri in anticipation of her present.

The pinkette dropped the heavy box into her friend’s eager hands, Y/N giving a small oomph! against the weight of the gift.

Sanemi watched his best friend tear into her present with vigor, similar to the way a hyena tore into its prey, tufts of wrapping paper floating down beside her as she beheld the grocery store box within.

“What the—?” Y/N’s eyebrows were drawn together as she turned the container over in her hands, eyes squinting as she read the label printed on the cardboard.

“No fucking way,” Her eyes blew wide as she held the box closer to her face in disbelief. “No fucking way!”

Y/N’s laugh bordered on maniacal as she clapped her hands, ripping into the cardboard as she produced one, fat candy bar, wrapped in unfamiliar purple foil.

“My chocolate!” She crowed, dumping the contents of the box out onto her lap. A dozen large, heavy candy bars thudded to the floor, the packaging on each bearing some foreign language and description. “I can’t believe my Secret Santa found them!”

Sanemi smirked quietly to himself. Sure, he’d rigged the Secret Santa pool to ensure that he magically drew Y/N’s name from the hat full of paper Mitsuri had passed around at their weekly dinner a few weeks prior, but he’d only done it because he’d already ordered Y/N’s Christmas gift from overseas.

For ages, she’d not shut up about a particular kind of chocolate that she’d had while abroad with her family one summer. Y/N had moaned to everyone that chocolate at home just didn’t taste the same, and she longed to have just one more taste of the candy she’d come to love while on holiday, though she hadn’t been able to track it down online.

But Sanemi had; he’d found a website that put him in contact with a local, who then used his bank information to clear out an entire grocery store’s supply of the confectionary. It was risky, but he was a man in love, so what else could he do but chance it?

“Over my dead fucking body —“ Y/N threatened, as Mitsuri tried to snatch a bar from her hand.

As Sanemi sat there, smugly sipping his non-spiked hot chocolate, he mused that the look of pure glee on Y/N’s face was well worth his account getting hacked not even a week after his order arrived.

—————————————————————————

The Christmas Eve party continued until the late afternoon, at which point the group of friends began to help their host clean up the discarded snacks and empty mugs of hot chocolate before each of them set off for their respective homes for the night.

Y/N was the only one in their group who had to take a train back to her parents’, her hometown being over three hours away from campus, and so, she was the first who had to leave the merry fete.

Sanemi had offered to drive Y/N the forty-minute trip to the train station so she wouldn’t be stuck paying for an Uber, and truthfully, he was glad to have nearly an hour of uninterrupted time with her before she went home for the week.

“Ready?” He asked her as he looped his wool scarf over his head, bracing himself to be smacked in the face by the icy wind that howled outside the warmth of the Kanroji house.

Y/N finished tugging on a pair of gloves before sliding into her emerald green wool coat. “One sec!”

Y/N darted back to the living room where their other friends exchanged goodbyes and flung her arms around her pink-haired best friend’s neck.

From where he stood near the Kanroji doorway, Sanemi could see the pinkette whisper a few words of encouragement into Y/N’s ear, her face uncharacteristically serious as she squeezed her best friend one more time. Sanemi knew that Mitsuri had been comforting Y/N leading up to her first holiday season at home since her brother died, and he felt a rush of gratitude for the girl as he saw Y/N’s shoulders visibly relax under the warmth of her words.

Y/N returned, her eyes sparkling with unshed emotion that she quickly tried to wipe with her gloved hands. “I’m ready!” She said thickly, plastering a smile on her face.

Sanemi sighed, but slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly into his side before releasing her. Y/N nodded in gratitude, sniffing once, before wrenching the front door of the Kanroji house open, allowing the icy winds beyond to whip across their faces.

The drive to the train station was uneventful, though Y/N had been sure to provide him with “entertainment” by singing loudly, off-key, to every Christmas song that crackled over the ancient speakers in Sanemi’s beat-up station wagon.

He wouldn’t have traded the smile emblazoned in her face, nor the sound of her raucous laughter, for the world however, not even for the sake of his ringing eardrums.

The duo parked and Sanemi heaved her suitcase out of his trunk. As they made their way towards the train platform, Sanemi fought the urge to take her hand in his, as the snowflakes swirled around them.

“So, how did you find it?” Y/N asked after a moment, her train turning the corner into the station right on time, slowing in the distance as it prepared to stop.

Her snowy-haired friend played dumb. “Find what, exactly?”

She gave him a sly smile. “Sanemi. You’re the only one who would’ve paid attention to me when I complained about some foreign chocolate that you can’t get anywhere but that country. Of course, it was you.”

Sanemi gave her a wry grin. “My credit card may’ve been hacked, but it was worth it. Got ya the whole store shelf, didn’t I?” He nudged her elbow playfully with his own and she giggled.

He would never tire of hearing that sound.

Y/N’s train slowed into the station terminal, and she sighed, parking her small suitcase next to her as she stepped forward and threw her arms around his shoulders.

“Merry Christmas, Sanemi.” She whispered, squeezing him gently.

It would’ve been nice to say it back — to say anything at all, but Sanemi found himself unable to make a sound, a hand only able to come up and awkwardly pat her back just as she pulled away. Whether or not his awkwardness affected her, Y/N didn’t show, for she only gave him one more radiant smile before boarding her train home.

“See you at the cabin!” She said brightly, stepping through the double doors, suitcase in hand.

Sanemi was still standing on the platform in bemusement at his inability to say or do other than stare at her, as though his brain had become nothing but a smooth rock rattling around inside his skull.

Y/N turned to wave at him, the doors to the train still open for the last few stragglers to board, but her smile slid from her face as she beheld him, staring at her with a fiery intensity.

What’s wrong-“ she started.

“I’m in love with you.” He said breathlessly, and to his horror, she froze, her mouth parting and her eyes going wide.

“What?”

But Sanemi could not answer her; he could not even make his traitorous mouth work as the doors slid shut and the train began its slow pull out of the terminal.

Y/N stood there, just past the doors, staring at him with that same, stunned expression until the train car rounded a corner and pulled her from sight.

————————————————————————-

More than an hour later, Sanemi arrived at the Rengoku family home where he was to spend Christmas Eve and the following morning. He kicked his boots off inside the festively decorated entryway, greeted Kyojuro’s parents, and stomped downstairs to the furnished basement where he knew his two friends would be gathered.

Tengen and Kyojuro were sprawled across the plush L-shaped sofa, both silent as they huddled over former’s phone as they listened to whomever was on the other end.

Kyojuro saw Sanemi first and smacked Tengen on the shoulder, the latter looking up as both his friends went wide-eyed.

“Obanai — hold on, he just got here.” Tengen muttered.

“What?” Sanemi demanded, a heat creeping up the side of his neck as his friends stared at him, mouths open.

Tengen pointed at his phone. “Obanai’s on. Apparently Y/N has been talking the girls for the last hour and a half because someone —“ he narrowed his eyes at Sanemi. “Decided to tell her they were in love with her right as her train was leaving?”

Sanemi wondered, briefly, whether it was possible for one’s stomach to fall out of their ass.

“Are you stupid?” Tengen asked, and Sanemi resented the fact he’d almost sounded serious.

“Put Obanai on speaker,” Sanemi muttered, flinging himself down on the sofa next to Kyojuro.

Tengen rolled his eyes but did as Sanemi asked. In the background, Sanemi could hear a faint, shrill voice ranting, and he felt his gut clench. Mitsuri.

“-and now, it’s Christmas Eve and instead of spending it with our girlfriends, Giyuu and I are playing chess for the third fucking time, because that’s how long the girls have been on the phone with Y/N.” Obanai drawled. “Not that it hasn’t been entertaining — ‘Suri is convinced Y/N should’ve pushed you onto the tracks, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi grit his teeth. “What did Y/N say, Obanai?”

His friend muttered something under his breath that sounded like an insult, but Sanemi said nothing, waiting as he heard Obanai’s voice grow smaller as he left the phone in favor of approaching the girls.

Sanemi’s stomach dipped at the renewed sound of indignant screeching that crackled through the phone, Tengen and Kyojuro snickering.

“Fine, alright, okay, stop yelling,” Obanai’s reedy and exasperated voice grew louder as he neared the phone again, though Sanemi could still hear the muffled sounds of Mitsuri squawking in the background.

“Mitsuri said you’re gonna have to man up and talk to Y/N yourself,” Obanai relayed, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. “And Shinobu said she doesn’t care enough about you to break girl code.”

Sanemi groaned, throwing an arm over his face as he leaned back into the sofa cushions, wishing he’d saved Y/N the trouble, and jumped in front of her oncoming train himself.

“How do I unfuck this?” He intoned to no one in particular, lifting the arm over his eyes to squint at his two friends as they continued to suppress their shit-eating smirks.

“You could try texting her,” Kyojuro offered, though Tengen shook his head in disagreement.

“You can’t just send a text right after confessing your undying love for her as her train was leaving,” the flamboyant man chided, clicking his phone off and kicking his feet up on the coffee table before him. “That’s like begging her to curse your ass out.”

Sanemi grumbled but he knew Tengen was right; whatever conversation he would have with Y/N would have to be in-person. She deserved that much, at least.

Tengen leaned back against the sofa, twiddling the toothpick wedged between his teeth, eyes narrowed at Sanemi in contemplation. “I thought you two hooked up back over the summer?”

Sanemi snorted, shaking his head, as Kyojuro quipped, “You’re thinking of Obanai and Kanroji.”

Their silver-haired friend looked back to Sanemi, eyebrow raising in incredulity. “You’re telling me, all this time, you two’ve been making eyes at one another and you haven’t been fucking?”

“Watch it,” Sanemi bristled, and Tengen held his hands up in surrender.

“Jesus you move slow,” he mumbled, and Sanemi chucked one of the decorative pillows lying next to him at his head, Tengen effortlessly batting the projectile away. “Is she coming to the cabin next week?”

He was referring to the spacious cabin their group had rented up in the snowy mountains to celebrate New Year’s Eve together, wanting a place large enough to accommodate them all, yet secluded enough that they wouldn’t cause too much harm when one of them inevitably set a tree on fire while drunkenly trying to set off fireworks.

Sanemi nodded, and Tengen’s smile turned smug. “Then I guess you’ll have to wait ‘til then to find out what she thinks.”

—————————————————————————

December 31st – New Year’s Eve

Sanemi Shinazugawa had never experienced torture, but the seven-day stretch between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve was about as close as he’d thought he’d ever get.

By the time he, Tengen, and Kyojuro had loaded up his station wagon with their duffel bags and enough booze to open their own traveling liquor store, Sanemi thought the anxious buzz in his blood would make him jump out of his skin.

He’d not spoken to Y/N since saying goodbye to her at the train station — not really. He’d responded to her Merry Christmas! text in their larger group chat with his own holiday well-wishes, and she’d simply reacted to the message. Otherwise, his phone had remained remarkably silent, without so much as a meme from the woman who held his heart.

He knew that he couldn’t assume her silence meant the worst, even as his brain tried to convince him it was all it meant. After all, Y/N was experiencing her first holiday season without her brother, and Sanemi knew the emotions of such a milestone were far more likely to hold her attention than his pitiful love confession.

He felt nearly sick by the time he pulled into the circular driveway of the enormous log cabin, seated up the hill and a way back from the main road, surrounded only by an endless stretch of snow-covered trees and forest. As he helped Kyojuro unload the cases of beer and bottles of champagne from his trunk, Sanemi spied Mitsuri’s pink Volkswagen parked at the other end of the driveway, next to Gyomei’s Hummer.

Sanemi’s stomach flipped as Tengen unlocked the back door of the cabin, loudly calling out to their friends in greeting in that booming voice of his. Giyuu and Mitsuri leaned over the bannister of the staircase leading to the second floor, waving as the remainder of the friend group straggled through the door, stomping shoes against the welcome mat to clear themselves of any lingering snow.

Sanemi’s eyes met Mitsuri’s and the pinkette’s narrowed, as she promptly turned away from him with a pointed harrumph.

Kyojuro snorted as Sanemi sighed, and they heaved the case of beer they’d brought into the kitchen and on the counter.

It was going to be a long day.

—————————————————————————

Y/N emerged from the room she was sharing with Shinobu and Mitsuri not long after he’d arrived, decked out in some sparkly get-up of Mitsuri’s that was more suited to wearing out at the club than it was for staying in, though Sanemi wasn’t about to complain.

She’d cheerfully greeted every one of their friends with hugs and her smiles until she came to him. Thankfully, Y/N was far less awkward than he, and she’d only hesitated for a moment before giving him a hug that Sanemi found did not last nearly long enough.

As the group settled in with their drinks and grazed at the smorgasbord of food and snacks laid out in the kitchen, Sanemi caught sight of Y/N watching him, eyes expectant. He tried to muster the courage to approach her, to ask her if they could talk in private, but Sanemi balked at the weight of both Tengen and Mitsuri’s knowing stares as they flicked back and forth between himself and Y/N.

He couldn’t do this with an audience; he could only hope that Y/N would understand.

Yet, Y/N looked slightly hurt at the way Sanemi turned and struck up a conversation with Obanai and Gyomei, and Sanemi could feel at least one pair of eyes hurling daggers into his back as he remained turned away, no doubt from Y/N’s pink, livid best friend.

This was going to be damn near impossible, and yet, it was entirely his fault to begin with, as he’d been the one to stupidly blurt out that he loved Y/N to her without properly preparing himself for the moment; and now, it was his situation to un-fuck.

Somehow.

And so, Sanemi merely opened another beer and took a hearty swig of its contents, hoping to gain the liquid courage he’d need to finally confront her head-on.

—————————————————————————

Sanemi had downed two flutes of champagne since the sun had set and he still found himself jittery and uneasy as he continued to dodge Y/N’s pleading looks.

He felt like an asshole, especially right then, as the year wound down to its last half hour. Sanemi was standing in the kitchen alone, turning over a bottle of champagne in his hands as he debated taking it along with him when he went to find Y/N, and work things out between them. Perhaps they could open it in celebration if it turned out that she returned his feelings; if not, he could always drown his sorrows in the bubbly.

“If you don’t grow a pair and talk to Y/N, I’m making out with her at midnight,” Shinobu threatened, brushing by Sanemi to grab another bottle of cheap champagne to uncork. “Right in front of you.”

Sanemi shot her a shit-eating smirk. “Don’t think your boyfriend would be a fan of that idea,” he challenged, grabbing the opened bottle from Shinobu’s hand and pouring himself another glass of sparkling wine.

“I support it,” Giyuu called out from the living room, much to his girlfriend’s satisfaction and Sanemi’s irritation.

Shinobu tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned sharply away from him on her heel. “I rest my case.”

At that, Shinobu departed with a shrill reminder for him to man up! and Sanemi was left alone in the kitchen once more. With a deep inhale, Sanemi lifted his champagne flute to his lips and tipped back its contents, swallowing his champagne in a single wet gulp, before setting the glass back in the counter, and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

He set out to find Y/N.

—————————————————————————

He found her outside, leaning up against the side of the cabin as she nursed her own flute of champagne, as she stared past the line of trees where their friends had begun assembling the various rockets and fireworks they’d gathered to mark the start of the new year.

Sanemi felt his tongue go thick at the sight of her, so pretty in the snow, though he didn’t know how she wasn’t shivering; she didn’t even have on a coat, and the only thing on her legs was a thin pair of nylons and her platform boots she insisted made her “nearly” as tall as him.

He joined her in leaning against the cabin on the opposite wall of her, though she did not acknowledge his presence past a small inclination of her head, her gaze instead falling to the glass clutched between her hands.

The silence stretched endlessly between them, making him shift his weight from leg to leg as he squirmed.

“Where’s that pretty smile o’ yours?” Sanemi finally broke, and Y/N looked up at him, a frown pulling her painted lips into an adorable pout.

He may have been a tad buzzed from the champagne, but his head felt clear, and his heart felt full as he looked towards his beautiful best friend, so very underdressed for the single-digit weather and snow in that sparkly two-piece Mitsuri had insisted she wear, even though it was just them at the cabin, celebrating.

“Back at the train station,” she mumbled after a moment, returning to her own champagne flute, swirling the liquid around.

Sanemi felt his gut sour, and he found his tongue incapable of forming any words, much to his embarrassment.

Neither said anything for a moment, the distant echoes of their friends cheering as they set up the fireworks magnified against the snowy backdrop of their mountain retreat.

“Why’re you avoiding me?” Y/N’s voice was so small, so unsure that Sanemi felt his heart ache because he hated that he’d been the cause of her doubt.

“I mean, how can you tell me that — what you said, a week ago, and now you can barely meet my eyes?”

“Y/N-“ Sanemi sighed, but Y/N cut him off once more.

“I understand if you didn’t mean it; I get it’s easy to get caught up in the moment, but just tell me that.” She pled.

Sanemi exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I was worried about your reaction,” he confessed after a moment, and Y/N’s frown deepened.

“I was also pissed at myself for doin’ it that way — I had a whole plan, I was gonna take you out somewhere nice, like you deserve, but, well,” Sanemi trailed off, awkwardly. “You just looked so happy at the Christmas party, and then you hugged me, and I guess I went a bit stupid.”

Y/N was silent, only staring at him with wide eyes, her champagne flute dangling precariously from her loose hand as she gaped at him.

“Y-you meant it? You really meant it?” She breathed.

Sanemi looked to her and rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he answered, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’ve been waiting…a long time, to hear you say that.” Y/N admitted, a tentative grin spreading across her face.

Sanemi met her smile with his own, and he began to advance slowly towards where she leaned against the cabin wall. “Sorry to make you wait, princess.”

Y/N responded with an airy laugh. “I expected I would have to break the ice,” her heart thundered against her sternum as Sanemi boxed her in against the logs with his arms. “I’ve been openly flirting with you since the snowball fight.”

Sanemi snorted. “And I’ve been putty in your hands since Halloween. Probably longer.” His hand rose to rest on the small, exposed sliver of her waist and Y/N shuddered at how warm his touch was.

“You sure know how to keep a girl waiting, then.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed in on the proximity of Sanemi’s lips to hers. Though felt the warmth of his breath caress her face, he maintained just enough distance between their lips to tease her.

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” Sanemi murmured, his thumb stroking the small patch of exposed skin above her hip.

Y/N smirked. “Then warm me up.”

Somewhere beyond the trees that dotted the property, Sanemi and Y/N’s friends began the countdown to midnight; but the two of them did not react to the impending new year, instead only holding one another’s gaze, steadily in the snow.

Their faces were titled towards one another, both still teasingly withholding the satisfaction of being the first to close the marginal distance between their lips from another. But in the distance, Sanemi vaguely heard his friends cry “ONE,” and so, right as the New Year arrived, he finally gave in, and he slanted his mouth over Y/N’s.

Later, Sanemi would muse over the fact that that had been the second time he’d missed a fireworks show with his friends, but he would not be able to care.

Because no display of colored sparks in the sky could compare to the feeling of Y/N’s lips moving fervently against his; could not compare to the way her fingers buried in his hair, or how she felt beneath his palms as he pressed her against the cabin wall and kissed her for all she was worth.

When they finally broke apart, the winter night had fallen silent once more, but it did not remain so; in an instant, their friends erupted into applause, with Tengen letting out a very loud Finally!

Y/N laughed and wrapped her hand around the collar of Sanemi’s jacket, hauling his mouth back to hers. As their friends made suggestive oohs, both Sanemi and Y/N stretched their hands out and simultaneously flipped the group off.

“It’s about damn time, you two,” Tengen drawled as the group made their way inside the warmth of the cabin.

“If you find a rocket in your bed tonight, Tengen, I want you to know it was me.” Sanemi replied smoothly, not taking his eyes off Y/N as she blushed under the hand he kept on her cheek.

—-———————————————————————

It was after two in the morning, and most of the revelers had finally drifted off to bed, drunk and happy and partied out. Only two couples remained awake, not quite yet ready to let the sparkling night fade to black.

One couple was seated on the ornate leather couch before the cabin’s lit Christmas tree, talking and giggling softly to themselves. Mitsuri stifled a sleepy yawn behind her hand, settling in against Obanai’s side as her eyelids drooped.

The ebony-haired man smiled to himself as Mitsuri’s breathing slowed, the beautiful girl finally nodding off against him as the excitement of the weekend lured her to sleep. Slowly, so as not to disturb his girlfriend’s peaceful rest, Obanai turned his head to watch the other couple still awake, though they were in the adjacent reading room.

There, standing before the large bay window of the cabin, Sanemi slow-danced with Y/N as the sound of some old holiday song crackled through the old record player of the cabin’s study. Y/N’s back was to Obanai, but her head was resting against his friend’s chest as Sanemi rocked them from side to side, his lips pressed against the girl’s hair. After a moment, Sanemi bent to murmur something in her ear, and Y/N drew back from his chest and nodded, causing his grin to spread wide across his face.

Obanai turned away from the sight of his friends, a small smile creeping onto his face, as Sanemi led his new girlfriend to his room.

—————————————————————————

Everyone was slow to rise later on New Year's Day, in no short part due to the previous night’s indulgences.

The last to rise, however, was the friend group’s newest couple, and it was with no small amount of delight that the friends saw Y/N emerge from Sanemi’s room, dressed in his sweater from the night before and a pair of men’s briefs. She padded into the kitchen, happy to accept the steaming mug of coffee that Shinobu handed her with a knowing smirk, while flipping off Tengen as he’d loudly asked her if she’d enjoyed her night.

When Sanemi finally entered the kitchen, a dark purple bruise seared into the side of his neck, the whole gang erupted into applause, much to the couple’s laughter and slight embarrassment.

Mitsuri sidled up to her best friend, nudging her with her shoulder. “Shinobu and I had a bet as to who would show up this morning with hickies. She owes me $5.”

Y/N’s returning smirk was naughty as she brought the steaming mug of coffee to her lips. “You just can’t see mine.”

Mitsuri giggled and Y/N couldn’t help but join her, feeling too warm and happy as her eyes met her now-boyfriend’s while he watched her from across the counter. As she’d swiped a donut from one of the several boxes scattered around the table, Y/N felt Sanemi’s fingers shyly brush against her own, and the pair exchanged small, sweet smiles before resuming conversation with their respective roommates.

Later, as the group loaded up cars with their luggage in a haphazard game of suitcase Tetris, Sanemi caught Y/N’s eye again and winked, prompting the latter to blush.

As they piled into their cars and drove away from the cabin, Sanemi realized he was the luckiest man in the world.

—————————————————————————

Epilogue — New Year’s Day, 2 years later

“He just texted me — they’re walking up,” Kyojuro whispered, and the group dissolved into renewed giggles and excitement as the snow drifted lazily outside.

“Shush!” Shinobu urged over the tittering group, as they all crouched in the dark, excitement buzzing among the friend group as they waited anxiously in Sanemi and Y/N’s apartment.

Mitsuri rocked on her heels beside Shinobu, squatting behind the couple’s sofa, her hands fluttering in glee. “They need to hurry up! I can hardly wait!”

“They’re almost — shut it!” Shinobu hissed at the unmistakable sound of a key entering a lock on the front door.

There was a wash of light from the apartment hallway as the door swung open, and Shinobu and the others burrowed deeper into their hiding spots. Only as the door clicked shut, and Sanemi flipped the light switch to their living room, did the group erupt.

“CONGRATULATIONS!” Every one of them — Mitsuri, Obanai, Shinobu, Tengen, Gyomei, Kyojuro and even Giyuu sprung from their various crouching spaces behind furniture and closets as they greeted the newly engaged couple.

Y/N’s hands flew to her face in surprise and joy, her cheeks bright red as she laughed. On her left hand, a beautiful, emerald ring sparkled.

The blushing bride-to-be turned to her fiancé and smacked him lightly on the chest. “You ass! Is this why you’ve been so weird and secretive over the last few weeks?”

Sanemi caught his fiancé’s hand and brought it to his lips, prompting the young woman to flush even further. Before she could return the gesture, Y/N was nearly knocked over by the flurry of pink and green that hurtled toward her, locking her arms around her neck and sobbing with joy.

“He was afraid he was gonna blow it,” Tengen offered, though he flinched at the sharp glare the scarred man shot his way. “Okay fine — he thought we would blow it.”

“I can’t imagine why he’d be concerned,” Y/N shook her head in mock-solemnity over Mitsuri’s shoulder. “After all, Giyuu did spoil Gyomei’s 22nd birthday.”

Giyuu made some sound of indignation as the tips of his ears reddened. Kyojuro thumped Sanemi on the back in congratulations. “I still think it would have been much nicer to have us all there when you finally popped the question, Shinazugawa!”

Sanemi rolled his eyes. “Like hell was I gonna let you shitheads ruin a romantic moment.”

Mitsuri, who’d not yet unwound her arms from Y/N’s neck, leaned in close to her best friend’s ear. “Did he cry?” She whispered conspiratorially.

Y/N’s grin widened. “Like a baby. He got down on one knee and started blubbering.”

It might have been a slight exaggeration — though her snowy-haired lover had gone misty-eyed as he’d knelt before her in front of the large Christmas tree in the city square and poured his heart out. As he pulled her in tight against him after sliding the delicate ring on her finger, Y/N had felt the wet droplets of his joyous tears as he’d buried his face into the side of her neck.

But Y/N couldn’t resist the chance to make it known amongst their friends that Sanemi Shinazugawa had the softest heart out of any of them.

The pair of best friends dissolved into giggles, before Mitsuri pulled away and the two hummed and hah’ed over Y/N’s engagement ring, Shinobu joining in as they marveled over the way the emerald shone.

Beside them, both Obanai and Giyuu looked accusingly at their smug friend. “Neither of them are gonna shut up about the ring now. Thanks, Shinazugawa.” Obanai grumbled.

Sanemi locked an arm around his friend’s neck and ground his knuckles into the top of his head. “Please. Like you don’t have a Pinterest board titled ‘future wedding’ for when you decide to have the balls to ask ‘Suri to marry you.” He grinned. “I’ve seen your phone, dude.”

“Jackass,” Obanai mumbled, though any ire he felt towards the snowy-haired man was quick to dissipate, because he couldn’t remember the last time Sanemi had smiled as broadly as he did right then.

He was happy — really, and truly happy.

Because Sanemi Shinazugawa loved many things.

He loved Saturday mornings, when there was no alarm or no obligations, and he could just exist peacefully in his bed with his woman wrapped snug in his arms. He loved when his phone had zero notifications, because that meant he was being left the fuck alone, and in peace.

He loved his friends, that wonderful group of people whom he’d known for most of his life, who’d always supported him or provided a good kick in his ass whenever he needed it.

But most of all, Sanemi loved New Year’s Day, and the snow, because it had brought him Y/N — his fiancé, and the great love of his life, and all her smiles that he had to look forward to every day, for all the days to come.

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny sanemi #kny x reader #kny fanfic #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #kny fic #demon slayer fanfic #kyojuro rengoku #tengen uzui #mitsuri kanroji #giyuu tomioka #shinobu kocho #gyomei himejima #obanai iguro

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whereforarthur · 5 months ago

Text

I Didn't Know Punk Girls Blushed

Request: Can you do a Chrismd imagine where he’s into an edgier girl? Like maybe she has tattoos and piercings and is the complete opposite of him? Idk how i want the story to go so you can have free range lol

Pairing: ChrisMd x Reader

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 3k

*****

Chris sauntered into the dimly lit vinyl record store, his eyes immediately drawn to the wall of albums that seemed to breathe the very essence of London's vibrant music scene. The sweet, nostalgic scent of old records filled the air, a stark contrast to the bustling street outside. He was on a mission to find the perfect gift for Arthur Hill's birthday, something that would make his old pal's face light up like a Christmas tree.

Behind the counter, a girl with a shock of different streaks of colored hair and a smattering of tattoos peeked out from under her beanie. She was the epitome of edgy, with a piercing gaze that could cut through the fog of a London evening. Her name tag read 'y/n', and she looked as if she'd rather be anywhere but here, serving customers in a store that seemed to be a relic of a bygone era.

Chris approached, a smile playing on his lips, "Hi, I'm looking for something special for my mate's birthday. He's into some old school stuff, you know?"

Y/n nodded, her expression unchanged. "What's his taste?"

Chris thought for a moment, "Arthur's a classic rock kind of guy, but with a bit of a twist. Nothing too mainstream."

Y/n's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the rows of records. "I've got just the thing," she murmured, slipping behind the counter and disappearing into the labyrinth of vinyl. The sound of her boots tapping against the wooden floor echoed through the store, and Chris couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. There was something about her that was different from the usual girls he encountered at games or in the pubs.

When she reemerged, she held a vintage-looking album with a faded cover. "This is 'The Dark Side of the Moon' by Pink Floyd. It's a classic, but it's got that edgy vibe to it." She placed it on the counter with a gentle thud. "Your mate Arthur might like it if he's into something with a bit of depth."

Chris's smile widened. "Perfect! I think he'll love it." He watched as she pulled out a dusty record sleeve and slid the album into it with a practiced ease. Her hands were adorned with rings that glinted in the soft light, hinting at a hidden creativity beneath her tough exterior.

As she worked, y/n spoke up again, "What's your name?"

"Chris," he replied, watching her closely. "ChrisMD."

Y/n looked up, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "Ah, the football YouTuber," she said, her tone flat.

Chris's cheeks flushed slightly. "Yeah, that's me," he said, trying to keep the conversation going. "What's yours?"

Y/n rolled her eyes and tapped her name tag. "It's right there."

Chris felt a twinge of embarrassment and leaned in closer. "Oh, right," he chuckled. "So, y/n, do you work here often?"

Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, he saw a spark of something—amusement, perhaps? "It's not the worst gig," she replied, sliding the record into a paper bag with the store's logo stamped on it. "Keeps me in vinyl and coffee."

Chris felt his heart flutter in his chest. He wasn't usually one to get flustered around girls, but there was something about y/n that threw him off his game. Her edgy allure was like nothing he'd ever encountered before, and he found himself desperately trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound like the cheesy, over-eager fanboy he feared he was coming across as.

He took a deep breath, willing his cheeks to return to their normal color. "So, y/n, do you like football?" He cringed internally, knowing it was a cliché question, but he was desperate to find some common ground.

To his surprise, she looked up at him with a smirk. "You know, I've been known to kick a ball around," she said, handing him the bag. "But I'm more into the indie scene myself."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Indie music and football? That's an interesting mix."

Y/n shrugged. "Life's full of surprises."

Their conversation was interrupted by the jingle of the shop door as it opened, letting in a gust of cool air. A customer walked in, and y/n's demeanor shifted, her eyes focusing on the new arrival. "I've got to get back to work," she said, turning away from Chris.

Chris felt a pang of disappointment but nodded, understanding. "No worries. Thanks for the help." He took the bag from her outstretched hand, feeling the warmth she had transferred to it. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

Y/n glanced back at him, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. "Maybe," she said noncommittally before returning her attention to the new customer.

*****

The next few days passed in a blur for Chris. He found himself counting down the hours until he could return to the vinyl record store, hoping to catch another glimpse of y/n. He'd never felt this way about a girl before—his usual type was more of the cheerleader variety, not the edgy, tattooed girl who seemed to see right through him. But there was something about her that drew him in, a challenge that he couldn't resist.

On the third day, he mustered the courage to return. The bell above the door chimed as he stepped inside, and y/n looked up from the stack of records she was organizing. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker in her eyes that made his heart race. She didn't look surprised to see him, just… resigned, as if she'd been expecting his return.

"Back again?" she asked, her voice holding a touch of amusement.

Chris felt his cheeks warm, but he held her gaze. "Yeah, I had to come back. That Pink Floyd album was a hit."

y/n nodded. "Thought it might be." She paused, her hand resting on a nearby record. "So, what are you looking for today?"

Chris shrugged, playing it cool. "Just browsing, really."

y/n raised an eyebrow, her piercings glinting in the soft light. "You're not here to see me, then?"

Chris's heart skipped a beat. "Well, that's not entirely true," he admitted, a grin spreading across his face. "I just wanted to, you know, say thanks and maybe get to know you a bit better."

Her expression remained neutral, but he could see the corners of her mouth twitch. "What's there to know?" she asked, a challenge in her voice.

Chris took a step closer, leaning on the counter. "Everything," he said, his eyes scanning her tattoos, trying to decipher the stories they held. "You're like a walking mystery, and I'm a curious guy."

Y/n's smirk grew into a small smile. "Alright, what do you want to know?"

Chris's mind raced with questions, but he decided to start simple. "How did you get into vinyl?"

Y/n's eyes lit up, a softness coming over her features. "My dad," she said. "He had a collection that was his pride and joy. When he passed, I inherited it all. It's how I keep him with me, you know?"

Chris nodded, feeling a sudden kinship with this girl who had, until now, been a complete enigma to him. "That's really cool," he said, his voice earnest. "I bet he had some amazing records."

Y/n nodded, her eyes misting over slightly. "He did. Some of the best." She paused, then took a deep breath, as if deciding whether or not to let him in further. "He taught me to appreciate the artistry of music, beyond just the sound. The feel of the vinyl, the smell of the sleeves, the way the needle hits the record… It's all part of the experience."

Chris found himself drawn into her world, a place where the music wasn't just background noise but a living, breathing entity that connected people in profound ways. "That's beautiful," he murmured, genuinely moved by her words.

Y/n's eyes searched his, as if looking for signs of mockery or insincerity, but all she found was genuine interest. "You get it," she said, sounding slightly surprised.

Chris nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from her. She looked so pretty when she talked about something she was passionate about, her features softening and her eyes lighting up with an inner fire that made his heart race. He'd never seen a girl transform so completely when discussing something she loved. It was mesmerizing.

"I do," he said softly. "I think that's what's been missing from my music experience. Just playing it on my phone or computer doesn't quite capture that… magic."

Y/n leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Exactly! That's what makes vinyl so special. It's not just about the music; it's about the connection to the artist, the history, the culture."

Chris nodded, feeling more at ease now that they had found common ground. "So, what's your favorite record?"

Y/n's eyes sparkled as she thought. "It's hard to pick just one," she said, scanning the shelves. "But if I had to, it'd be 'The Queen is Dead' by The Smiths."

Chris nodded, scribbling down the name in his phone. "I'll have to give it a listen," he said, his thumb hovering over the screen. "You know, I've got a turntable at home that's been collecting dust. Maybe it's time to put it to good use."

The conversation flowed easily between them, a dance of shared interests and laughter. Chris found himself drawn to her sharp wit and her ability to challenge him. He'd never felt this way about a girl before—like he was discovering something new and exciting, something that made his heart race just a little bit faster.

Finally, as the shop grew quiet and the last rays of sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, casting patterns on the floor, he took a deep breath. "So, y/n," he began, his voice casual but his heart hammering in his chest. "I was wondering if you'd be up for grabbing a coffee or something, maybe show me around some of the local indie music spots?"

Her gaze remained on the records she was sorting, but her hand stilled. "Why me?" she asked, her tone teasing.

Chris felt a thrill run through him. She was playing hard to get, but he could see the curiosity in her eyes. "Because you're the vinyl whisperer," he said with a grin. "And I've got a feeling you know all the hidden gems of London's music scene."

Y/n finally looked up, meeting his gaze. "Flattery won't get you far," she said, but her voice held a playful note. "But okay, I'll bite. How about tomorrow night?"

Chris felt his heart soar. "Really?" He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, not wanting to scare her off.

Y/n nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, really. But don't get your hopes up, football boy. I'm not going to make it easy for you."

Chris chuckled, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Fair enough," he said, trying to play it cool. "Where should we meet?"

Y/n thought for a moment, her eyes scanning the ceiling as if the answer were written there. "How about The Lock Tavern?" she suggested. "It's got a decent selection of records, and the coffee's not too bad either."

Chris nodded eagerly. "Sounds perfect. What time?"

"Eight," she said, her eyes finally meeting his. "Don't be late."

Chris couldn't believe his luck. He'd scored a date with the edgy vinyl goddess of his dreams. "I'll be there," he promised, trying to keep his voice steady.

*****

The following evening, Chris found himself pacing in front of The Lock Tavern, his heart thumping in his chest like a drum. He'd chosen his outfit carefully, aiming for a look that was casual but cool—a nod to her indie style without completely abandoning his own. He glanced at his watch. 7:58. Two minutes to go.

As if on cue, y/n appeared around the corner, her hair a riot of color in the streetlight. She was wearing a vintage band tee and a leather jacket that made her look like she'd just stepped off the set of a music video. She spotted him and raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips.

Chris took a deep breath and walked over to her. "Hey," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You're early," she said, sounding slightly surprised.

"I didn't want to be late," he replied, his cheeks reddening. "So, shall we go in?"

The Lock Tavern was a cozy, dimly lit pub with a distinctly vintage vibe. The walls were lined with shelves of records, and the air was thick with the scent of beer and good music. The jukebox in the corner played a mix of indie hits and obscure tracks that made Chris feel like he'd stumbled into a secret club.

They found a table in the back, the light from a flickering candle casting shadows on y/n's face. She ordered a black coffee, and Chris went for a pint, hoping it would calm his nerves. They talked about music, her favorite bands, and the history of vinyl. Chris found himself hanging on her every word, her passion for the subject contagious.

As the night wore on, the conversation grew more personal. y/n talked about her life growing up in London, her love for the city's underground music scene, and her dreams of becoming a music journalist. Chris shared stories from his childhood, his love for football, and his journey to becoming a YouTube sensation. Despite their differences, they found common ground in their shared love for the art of storytelling—whether it was through music, videos, or the written word.

Their laughter grew louder with each shared anecdote, and the tension between them grew palpable. When the topic of tattoos came up, y/n leaned in, her eyes locked on his. "Do you have any?"

Chris felt a shiver run down his spine. He'd never considered getting inked before, but the way she said it made him want to show her something only she knew about him. "No, I don't," he admitted. "But I've always been curious."

Her smirk grew. "Well, if you're going to keep hanging around these parts, you might want to get one," she teased. "It's practically a rite of passage."

Chris swallowed, his heart racing. "Maybe I will," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But only if you come with me."

Y/n's eyes searched his, and for the first time, he saw something other than amusement or challenge in them—there was a softness, a hint of vulnerability. "Alright," she said, her voice just as soft. "But only if you let me choose the design."

Chris nodded, feeling a strange thrill at the idea of letting her mark him in some way. It was a bold move, but he was ready to step out of his comfort zone for her.

The night grew late, and the pub began to empty out. They lingered over their drinks, the conversation never waning. It was as if they'd known each other for years, despite their stark differences. But as they sat in the warm glow of the candlelight, sharing stories and laughs, it was clear that they had a connection that was more than just skin deep.

When y/n suggested they head out, Chris couldn't hide his disappointment. But as they stepped into the cool London night, the buzz of the city seemed to energize them both. They strolled down the cobblestone streets, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet. The stars above were obscured by the city lights, but the magic of their evening was undiminished.

As they approached the tattoo parlor, y/n's hand slipped into his, and he felt a jolt of excitement. The shop was small, nestled between a vintage clothing store and a tattooed bakery, the neon sign flickering in the dark. The walls were lined with flash art, a kaleidoscope of images that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the punk rock playing in the background.

The artist, a burly man with a gentle smile, took one look at the nervousness etched on Chris's face and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "Don't worry, mate," he said, his voice gruff but kind. "You're in good hands."

Y/n whispered the design into the artist's ear, and he nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're sure about this?" he asked, turning to Chris.

Chris looked at her, her edgy beauty illuminated by the neon glow. "Yeah," he said, swallowing hard. "I trust her."

The process was surprisingly painless, the needle a gentle hum that seemed to sync with the rhythm of his racing heart. As the artist worked, y/n held his hand, her grip tight and reassuring. When it was over, he looked down at the fresh ink, a simple but meaningful design that represented their shared love of music and their blossoming friendship.

They stepped out into the night, the cool air soothing the sting of the tattoo. y/n turned to him, her eyes shining. "So, what do you think?"

Chris smiled, feeling a sense of belonging he hadn't felt in a long time. "I think it's perfect," he said, squeezing her hand. "Thank you."

Their walk back to the tube station was filled with a newfound ease, the awkwardness of their first meeting a distant memory. As they parted ways, the promise of future adventures hanging in the air, Chris couldn't help but feel like he'd found something special in this edgy, pierced girl who'd turned his world upside down.

In the weeks that followed, they explored the city's hidden music venues, discovered new bands, and shared quiet moments that felt like secrets whispered between friends. With each passing day, their bond grew stronger, the lines between fan and crush blurring into something more substantial.

Chris found himself looking forward to their meetups with an anticipation that was both thrilling and terrifying. He knew that the girl who had once seemed so unattainable was now someone he could see himself with, not just for a fleeting romance but for something real.

The tension grew with each shared smile, each brush of their hands. And when y/n finally leaned in and kissed him under the glow of a streetlamp, the music of the city fading into the background, he knew that he was falling for her—for the girl who had shown him that sometimes, the most beautiful melodies were found in the most unexpected places.

*****

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

#fluff #british youtubers #imagines #chris md x reader #chrismd x reader #chris md #chrismd

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sabrinasopposite · 1 month ago

Text

game-boy; resume?

pt. 2 of ,,game-boy !'' / clark kent x reader

but you took my love for granted and it took me two years to understand it

summary: a broken heart and a gameboy. y/n makes her way to smallville to fix the things that matters her, was it her desire of the happy ending or truly her heart?

It was strange, how a game could feel so much like life—full of little victories and crushing defeats, like a series of choices made in a world that offered no reset button. Y/N had tried to move past it all—the late nights, the quiet silences after Clark’s absence, the emptiness that lingered in the spaces he used to fill.

Yet, she found herself holding the Game Boy again, tracing the worn edges of its plastic casing. It was as if the world had somehow paused for a moment, waiting for her to press *Start* again.

She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for. That the game would offer something new? That it would play itself differently this time?

Maybe.

But there was something about it—the way the colors flickered on the screen, the way the music filled the air—that made her feel like she could win. Even if the game had been broken before, maybe now it could work again.

The days drifted by in a haze, a blur of routine that left her empty and wanting. The memory of Clark lingered like a half-finished puzzle, pieces scattered around her heart that she couldn’t seem to place. She would see him sometimes, in passing, his smile as easy as it had always been. But it wasn’t the same anymore. She wasn’t the same anymore.

One morning, she found herself driving without quite knowing why. The motion of the car was almost soothing, a rhythmic hum that filled her thoughts with a strange kind of quiet. It wasn’t something she planned. Sometimes life didn’t need to be planned. Sometimes it simply asked you to follow the faint trail of breadcrumbs, just to see where it would lead.

And so, she drove, westward, the road stretching before her like a never-ending line on a map. There was a place she’d seen once, a shop with peeling signs and neon lights that flickered like forgotten memories. The words "Vintage Electronics Repair" had called to her then, and when they reappeared in her mind now, she didn’t question it. She just drove.

The shop was tucked between rows of weathered buildings, a small oasis of history amid the rush of the world. Old clocks, radios, and scattered trinkets filled the window display, each one a relic of a time that seemed to stretch out like a half-remembered dream. Inside, a man was bent over his workbench, his glasses perched low on his nose as he adjusted the internals of a broken radio. He barely looked up as Y/N approached, but when she handed him the Game Boy, there was something in the way his fingers touched it—a recognition, maybe. Or understanding.

He nodded silently, taking the device from her as if he knew it held more than just circuits and plastic. It held memories, and perhaps, pieces of her heart.

Hours passed. Y/N wandered the town aimlessly, trying to avoid the thoughts that buzzed in her mind like static. Her hands felt empty without the Game Boy, and yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something important. The moment stretched out, pulling her further from the reality she’d been living in, into a strange space between wanting and needing.

When the repairman finally returned, she was almost nervous. Would it be the same? Could it be the same?

The Game Boy was different. In her hands, it felt… better. The worn edges had been smoothed, the screen clearer than before, the buttons clicking with a newfound precision. It was almost too perfect. Like someone had restored it to a version of itself that felt unfamiliar. It was… better.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tracing the contours of the newly restored device. It was no longer the one she remembered. It was something new, something polished, something she didn’t know how to approach. It had changed, but so had she.

As she stood in the shop, staring at the Game Boy, the soft sound of a familiar voice reached her ears, pulling her from the haze of her thoughts.

"Hey."

Her breath caught in her chest. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Clark stood in the doorway, his posture relaxed, but there was something different about him now. His smile was the same, but his eyes—they held something more now. Something softer. Something deeper. The lines of his face seemed both older and younger at once, as if time had moved in ways she couldn’t quite understand.

It took her a moment to find her voice, to remember how to speak in the presence of someone who had once been everything to her. “What are you doing here?”

His smile faltered, just for a second, before it returned, warmer than before. “I heard you were in town.” His voice was casual, but his eyes… they lingered on her face in a way that made her heart ache. “Smallville’s a small place. Thought I’d see how you’re doing.”

The words felt like a weight, heavy in her chest. She wasn’t sure if he was here out of politeness, or if there was something more behind his visit. Either way, it didn’t matter. It was like stepping back into a level of a game she had already lost.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N’s gaze dropped to the Game Boy in her hands, and for a split second, she wondered if this was it. Would it always be this way—trying to fix something that was already broken?

“Clark…” she began, but her voice trailed off. She didn’t know what to say. There were too many things she wanted to ask, too many things she needed to know. But instead, she held his gaze, searching for something that might give her an answer.

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “I know things ended… differently,” he said quietly. “But we don’t have to pretend it never happened.”

It wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it was the one she needed. The weight of his words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, she felt as if the game had started again. But this time, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to play.

Y/N stood there, her fingers still lightly grazing the newly repaired Game Boy. Clark’s words hung in the air like a thin thread, delicate, yet weighted. She knew she should walk away—should leave the shop, the town, everything behind—but there was something in the way he was looking at her, like a flicker of the past had ignited in his eyes. It pulled her back, as if the magnetic force of their shared history had never quite released its hold on her.

For a moment, she thought she could walk away. She thought she could turn the Game Boy off, leave the old world behind and start anew. But the truth was, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to turn the screen dark again.

Clark shifted his weight, sensing her hesitation. His voice softened, pulling her out of the dizzying loop in her mind. “You look different,” he said, and there was something about the way he said it—an observation more than a compliment, like he saw past the surface and into the layers of time between them.

Y/N forced a smile, though it felt thin. “Guess time does that to people,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the words felt hollow, slipping off her tongue like they were meant to fill a void that only he could see.

But he didn’t push it. Instead, his gaze dropped to the Game Boy in her hands, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Still got that thing, huh?”

It was as if he was trying to make a joke, a way to bridge the gap between the past and the present. But it didn’t work. It only made the silence louder.

“I had it repaired,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. “It’s… different now.”

Clark nodded slowly, taking in her words. His lips parted, like he was going to say something, but he stopped himself. The space between them felt impossibly wide, yet neither of them seemed ready to cross it.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to steady her pulse. Her hands tightened around the Game Boy, feeling its weight—new, restored, like it was waiting for her to push Start again, as if the game could fix what was broken. But the truth was, she didn’t know if she could play this game anymore.

Before she could speak, Clark’s phone buzzed, breaking the silence again. He glanced at it quickly, his expression unreadable. Y/N’s stomach twisted in knots, the old feeling of being left behind creeping in, the sensation of watching him slip away even when he was standing right in front of her.

“Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at the screen before quickly tucking it back in his pocket. “Work stuff.”

Y/N nodded, though the tightness in her chest didn’t go away. There it was again. That familiar distance. It was the game she’d been losing for too long, but each time she tried to quit, each time she tried to walk away, she found herself back in the same spot. The same loop. The same unresolved question: Could she ever really stop?

The relapse started quietly, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She’d told herself she was over it—over him, over the weight of the past. But when Clark stood before her, in the same small town, with the same smile, the same pull in his gaze, it was as if nothing had ever changed. It was like being handed the controller to a game she’d promised herself she’d never play again.

But here she was.

“Clark,” she started, her voice barely a whisper. “You... You’re still with her, aren’t you?”

There was a brief silence. His eyes flickered, guilt flashing across his face before he exhaled sharply, looking away. His expression wasn’t just regret—it was the heavy weight of someone who had hurt the person they loved and didn’t know how to fix it.

“No,” he said finally, his voice low. “But… we’re trying to be friends. We’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N felt like she’d been struck. He wasn’t with Lana anymore, but they were still tethered to each other in a way she couldn’t understand. They were tangled in a history Y/N wasn’t part of, and no matter how many times she pressed Start, she would never find herself in the same level.

She had been so desperate for the game to reset, to find a way back to the beginning, when everything had been simple, and nothing had hurt. But now, with the screen so clear in her hands, it was harder to ignore the fact that some things couldn't be fixed with a button press. Some things weren't made to be replayed.

A familiar ache twisted in her chest. She felt like she was falling behind, like the game was moving faster than her fingers could follow, each press of the buttons failing to keep up with the pace of the game, her heart.

"I don't know if we can be friends," she whispered, her voice trembling despite herself. "Not after everything. We were toxic from the start.“

Clark’s face softened, the edges of his mouth curling into something like regret, like understanding. But Y/N couldn’t do it. She couldn’t keep replaying the same levels, trying to force a different outcome.

With one last glance at the Game Boy, she realized something. She hadn’t been playing to win. She’d been playing to lose, over and over again, because it was easier to lose than to walk away.

And maybe that was the hardest part—to stop. To shut off the screen. To leave the game behind.

Clark stood there for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but the words faltered, held back by the weight of everything that had passed between them. Finally, he spoke, his voice a whisper, raw and sincere.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the weight of his apology settling heavily between them. “I know I hurt you. I shouldn’t have just disappeared the way I did. It wasn’t right, and I... I regret it.”

Y/N stood frozen, the Game Boy still clutched tightly in her hands. The sincerity in his words cut through her like a blade, but it also stung with the realization that this was the first time he wasn’t just apologizing for his actions, but truly understanding the consequences of them. But was it enough? Was he enough?

Clark stepped closer, his hand hovering like he was unsure whether to reach for her. His voice was softer now, almost pleading. “You matter to me, Y/N. I— I don’t want you to think that you were just something I could walk away from or play with.”

Y/N’s heart twisted, torn between the overwhelming desire to believe him and the knowledge that she had been hurt too many times. Clark’s voice shook, but his words weren’t just a last-ditch effort. They were the admission of someone who had been through months of reflection, who was no longer just talking from a place of guilt but from a place of understanding.

For a moment, she thought about giving in, about losing herself again to the pull of the past. But even as she fought it, she knew: She had to let go.

“You don’t get to do that, Clark,” she said, her voice shaking as she fought to stay grounded. “You can’t just show up and say that like it fixes everything. You can’t just come back and expect me to fall into step with you again.”

His face tightened, like he wanted to say something—like he was fighting to explain himself, to make her understand. But then he stopped, his eyes flickering with an almost resigned pain. He knew she was right.

“I know,” he said quietly, taking a small step back, his voice soft. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. But I had to try.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. In that moment, she saw the raw truth of his words—the quiet acceptance that he may never be able to fix what he had broken. It was a growth she hadn’t seen in him before. He wasn’t asking her to forgive him. He wasn’t asking her to play along or try again. He was finally giving her the space to decide what was best for her.

There was a long silence, thick and suffocating, and for the first time, Clark didn’t try to fill it. He simply waited, as if knowing the decision was hers alone to make.

Y/N’s mind screamed for her to walk away, to shut the door on him and everything he represented. But her heart—her foolish heart—whispered for her to stay. To take the chance.

But no. The game had changed.

"I think we both know," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady, "that this—whatever this is—can't go on like this."

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes steady and unflinching. Clark’s expression faltered as if he was about to say something, but she raised a hand to stop him.

“I need something real, Clark,” she continued. “Something that doesn’t break apart every time I let my guard down. Something that doesn’t leave me wondering if I’m just an option you pick up when it's convenient.”

She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing larger as she spoke. Clark was silent, but there was no anger in his eyes—only the understanding of someone who had known what it was like to be lost, to feel like there was no way to come back.

He looked at her for a long moment, his own chest rising and falling as he fought the urge to reach out to her. He wasn’t going to stop her. He wasn’t going to plead. He just stood there, holding the space for her to make her decision.

“You’re not just an option,” he said softly, his voice almost hoarse. “I never meant to hurt you. I just... I don’t know how to fix it.”

Y/N looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in months. And in that moment, she realized that she wasn’t looking for him to fix it. She wasn’t looking for any promises anymore. She didn’t need him to say the right words, or to prove himself.

"It doesn’t need fixing anymore, Clark,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I’ve learned how to fix me.”

Clark took a slow breath, and though his expression was still pained, there was a quiet respect in the way he looked at her now. He had nothing left to give, nothing left to ask. And for the first time, he understood what she needed, even if it wasn’t him.

Y/N slowly stepped back, the Game Boy still in her hands, heavier now than ever before. She could almost hear the echo of the button clicks in her mind—the same rhythm that had once drawn her in. But she had learned that no game, no matter how addicting, could define her.

“I think,” she said softly, her voice steady with finality, “it’s time for us to finally be done with this game.”

Clark didn’t argue. He didn’t try to pull her back into the cycle they had once shared. He just nodded slowly, his eyes still holding hers, as if silently acknowledging the end of this chapter.

Y/N took one last look at him, then turned and walked toward the door, her heart aching but lighter than it had been in months. She wasn’t running anymore.

“Goodbye, Clark,” she said, her voice steady.

The soft hum of the city outside felt like a lullaby, a promise of new beginnings. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N smiled—not because of a rush, but because she knew she was ready to live.

🕹️ hi everyone! I know it's not a happy ending but I wrote so many drafts of the part two.. and somehow I always end up with the version of them two being on their own. It's important to see the toxicity of them both and y/n's addiction or idea of clark's attention. just like in games, we are all focused on it and feel addicted to know what's the next step, what's the next level. 🕹️I am still thinking of writing a spin-off to clark's version of the story, or maybe a ,bonus' chapter of them in few years :) love ya ! 🕹️ taglist: @blackynsupremacy @angelsgalore @alelo23 @caliicela

#red kryptonite clark kent x reader #clark kent smallville x reader #clark kent fics #clark kent smallville #clark kent #smallville x reader #smallvilleclark #tom welling #smallville clark kent x reader #tom welling clark kent #tom welling x reader #clark kent x fem!reader #angst #gameboy

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shegatsby · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, how are you? Please don't judge or kill me! Please, I don't condone this kind of behaviour. So, I have a request about Mads Mikkelsen's character Le Chiffre from Casino Royale.

So Female!Reader's father won against Le Chiffre his money at the casino.

To take revenge, Le Chiffre kidnaps Reader to get revenge on her father. Warning:Kidnapping, Non-con.

Please don't kill me, I don't condone this behaviour.!!! <3<3<3

A/N; Thank you for this request I sure had fun writing it ;) It got longer than i expected but hey, who cares. love you all.

Warnings; Kidnapping, smut, minors get the fuck out or else!

The only reason why you followed your father to Montenegro was to unwind from stressful year at the university. He said he had some business to attend to and he offered you a most generous holiday which you didn’t hesitate to indulge in. First few days were relaxing, you joined a yoga class, got several massages, swam in the sea and also at the pool, however, tonight would be the night to switch things up.

Your father said he was going to gamble at a casino, the hotel you stayed in was infamous for its illegal businesses such as gambling. Your father said it could be fun to have you there with him, he liked to show off his intelligent and siren looking daughter and to distract the gamblers.

Your dress was long and red, the fabric was satin, so smooth on your skin, the dress had a slash on your left side, up to your thigh. Hair let loose, red nails and red lips.. you were the walking femme fatal that night.

You entered the room with your dad, a soft 20s music was playing at the casino, yellow lights and dark green chairs, couches made the place look vintage, there were bodyguards at each door.

As you walked together you saw him

He was among his ‘’friends’’ or people he did business with. He was covered in black, which made him look manly and dangerous. His silver watch was shining under the yellow lights, you noticed that he had no ring, could be single. He was laughing at one of their jokes when he lifted his gaze and he saw you entering. His expression changed in a second, the way he looked at you up and down didn’t go unnoticed. His left eye twitched and he looked away, from afar you could see there was something in his left eye, looked like a nasty scar. It made you curious about him, because the way he dressed and held himself showed you that he had men to do the dirty work but maybe, time to time he liked to get his hands dirty… why were you so interested in a man who seemed older than you all of a sudden? You were here to enjoy your holiday and do a trick with our dad. Ever since you hit the age 18 your dad started to take you to casinos when he wanted to gamble, and you came up with this thing where you flirt with other gamblers to distract them, it worked usually because of weak nature of men.

Your father guided you to the bar to get drinks, there was still 20 minutes till the game started so he ordered you something and you gracefully took your place to observe the environment. ‘’Excuse me love, I have to use the restroom.’’ Your father announced and left, you were enjoying your drink and listening to the soft tunes when you felt a presence next to you. You looked up to see your father but you were surprised. That man with the scar was sitting next to you, ‘’Hello.’’ He said looking at you, he wasn’t shy showing his scar, it was infact nasty but you didn’t shy away, you directly looked into his eyes, you innocently smiled, for some strange reason you liked the scar, it suited him perfectly. His plump lips formed into a dangerous smile, ‘’Allow me to accompany you while you wait for your partner.’’ His tone was questioning, he ordered two drinks, ‘’He is my father. Not so smooth are you Mister?’’ he chuckled at your boldness, he extended his hand, ‘’Le Chiffre. And you are?’’

You accepted his hand, he had a strong grip, ‘’Ms. Y/N Y/L/N.’’ he gave a small peck on your hand, predator disguised as a gentleman. ‘’I assume you are here to accompany your father?’’ you took a sip from your cocktail, ‘’Correct. I didn’t want to leave him alone, plus, I’m his lucky charm.’’

‘’Good girl.’’ His eyes never left yours, you wondered if he could see from his scarred eye, of course you didn’t ask. With his comment you could feel heat rising up to your cheeks, thankfully your father came.

‘’Le Chiffre?’’ your father asked in a not so kind matter, ‘’Mr. Y/L/N,’’ he greeted your father with the same icy cold courtesy. ‘’Long time no see.’’ Your father said, ‘’Looking forward to see you at the game with your,’’ he looked at you, ‘’lucky charm.’’ His hand went to his pocket to get his silver inhaler and bid you goodbye. You didn’t understand the tension that they had, maybe it was because of the competitive business life.

Soon the game started, your father’s instructions were simple, wait for Le Chiffre to make a bold move and distract him, it was an old game of yours.

You were like a hawk watching the table from afar, your fingertips circling around the cocktail glass, you saw that it was his turn to make a move and you bolted to your feet. Your heels were making powerful sounds on the marble floor and you saw him looking up as he was shaking the dice in his big palm, your eyes never left his dangerous ones, he wasn’t ready the dice unintentionally fell from his palm, you saw the pure anger written on his perfectly shaped face as you got on the elevator you could hear your father’s victorious laugh.

You didn’t join your father, who was celebrating the big cash he just won. You were in your hotel room, just out of the shower and moisturized. You couldn’t help but think of Le Chiffre, was that money important to him? Did your father and he had a history? You needed a spa night. Since it was late you didn’t mind leaving your hotel room only in a long robe and nothing else, the halls were quiet, no workers around which was strange. You didn’t mind, the spa was at the top floor so you pressed the button and waited, after few floors two men who were dressed in black joined. When you reached the top floor something felt fishy with the situation but you couldn’t turn back to your room now so you decided to stick with the plan. Your steps were quick on the marble floors, you finally saw someone who was attending the spa area and you informed them, they smiled and showed you to one of the cabins. You were alone, thankfully. You just sat and closed your eyes to relax, the steam helped you calm your mind, well, it was too calming and soon you were asleep.

You slowly started to feel your body again, your eyelids felt so heavy but a sudden panic made you open your eyes, you weren’t at the spa, you were at a bedroom.. that wasn’t yours.

As you lifted your body with the help of your shaky hands you heard a voice which was familiar, ‘’Slow down, you are still recovering.’’ Someone, a man, sat on the edge of the bed and you could feel his hand on your small back. You looked up to see him and it was Le Chiffre, but why was he here?

‘’Wh-‘’ your throat was dry, ‘’Here.’’ He offered you a glass of water, you were hesitant but thirst clenched your being so you drank with his help. ‘’Good girl.’’ He said when you drank the whole glass.

You were coming to your senses so you pushed yourself away from him, your back resting on the headboard of the bed, ‘’You might be wondering why you’re here-‘’

‘’Might?!’’ you replied. Cleary not amused, ‘’As you can remember your father won a significant amount of money, thanks to your help, I want that money back.’’

‘’So you kidnapped me?!’’ you could feel anger boiling, ‘’Smart one aren’t you. Until that money is returned you are my-‘’

‘’Hostage.’’ You sarcastically said, ‘’guest.’’ He answered, ‘’It had been 5 hours since you were taken You must be hungry. Come.’’ He extended his hand but you refused, as you quickly stood up you got dizzy so he grabbed your waist, his scent filled your nostrils. He smelled good.

You couldn’t protest because it was hard for you to walk so with his help you left the room. You weren’t at the hotel anymore, it was a mansion. Was this his house? You walked down the stairs, all you could see was an astonishing house with large paintings and furniture. He took you to the dining room where breakfast waiting for you both. Your stomach growled, he chuckled and helped you to your chair. ‘’Why can’t you just win the money back? There is another game tonight.’’ You asked, looking at the breakfast. You had to keep your calm in order to survive because you didn’t know what was he capable of. ‘’I don’t have for another game and I don’t like taking chances.’’

You laughed sarcastically, ‘’Says the man who was gambling last night.’’ You drank the orange juice, it was tasty. ‘’I was going to win. Until I got distracted by a certain beauty.’’ His comment made you blush so you didn’t look at him, ‘’Is it scary to look at me love?’’ he sounded hurt, ‘’I understand if it is the case.’’ You didn’t care about the scar so you looked straight at him, ‘’There we go.’’ He smiled, ‘’Now, finish your breakfast, I have plans for us.’’

You didn’t know his plan but you had to play along, you finished your breakfast as he commanded so, it was delicious anyways and you were almost sure there was no poison. He looked at your finished plate, you could see a small smile forming on his plump lips, they distracted you, ‘’Well done.’’ You noticed that he kept giving you praises, which was your weak spot but he didn’t know.. or did he?

He stood up, extended his big hand, ‘’Shall we?’’

You thought he was going to torture you, lock in his basement, feed you to his dogs but instead he took you on a stream in the mountains, he said he liked to come here, swim and make plans for his business, he said the water calms his nerves and keeps him connected to mother nature. Before you left his mansion a maid came to give you a bag with everything you need, a bathing suit, towels, sunglasses, sunscreen, you name it. Le Chiffre didn’t need changing, he just took off his shirt and jumped into the stream, you thought he wanted to give you privacy so you quickly changed into your bathing suit, it was red, a color he choose but you had no idea. Once you changed you placed one of the towels on the grass and sat, started to put sunscreen on your legs, arms, ‘’Need a hand?’’ you heard his serpent voice, tempting and you looked up to see him, on the edge, his broad arms supporting his body by leaning into the ground, ‘’Yes, thank you.’’ Two can play the games, you thought. The way he jumped up to the shore, his arms and legs flexing did something to your core. You had to exhale the breath you were holding, without a word he sat behind you, put some sunscreen in his palm and started to rub your back. You literally held onto grass under your hands, his calloused hands trying to be gentle but you could sense the certain urge to go deep, and rough.

‘’When I first saw you at the casino,’’ he began, ‘’I thought to myself, I must have this girl somehow.’’ He wasn’t shy at all, ‘’I guess Universe finally decided to give me a break and let me have one good thing.’’ It was obvious that his life was difficult, and seeing you as something good made you blush.

You turned to face him, his eyes were hoping for something, something tangible and you decided.

You leaned in to give him a kiss which he gladly took, his lips were so full and soft, his big hands went to caress your face, as the kiss got heated you followed his movements, he made you lay on your back, your legs invited him by opening. When he bit your neck you moaned, he pulled away, ‘’Did I hurt you?’’ he was out of breath, the genuine curiosity could be seen in his eyes and you almost cried. ‘’No, keep going.’’

He kissed you again, you could feel his hard member between your legs, there was no going back.

His hand went to dip into your wetness and he moaned into your mouth, he pulled away to give kisses to your face and neck, ‘’just how I imagined.’’ He said as he started to rub your clit, your arched your back, his sweet torture was driving you mad. ‘’Do you want this?’’ he looked to see any sort of discomfort on your face but all he found was flushed cheeks, lust written in your eyes, mouth slightly parted. ‘’Yes,’’ you said, ‘’please’’ he grinned.

His fingers pushed the fabric away, he quickly got rid of his short and gave himself few pumps, you couldn’t help but notice how big he was.

He rubbed his tip into your folds, making you whimper, ‘’pleasee’’ you said whining, ‘’Please what, lucky charm?’’ you couldn’t help but moan deeply, ‘’Please fuck me, ever since I saw you last night I wanted you to bend me over and fuck me raw.’’ Well, it wasn’t a lie, he had a strange aura to him.

Your confession startled him at first, Le Chiffre, even though he didn’t want to admit, he had insecurities thanks to the scar on his face, ladies usually went for his colleges, not him. Hearing you openly admit to want him turned him on, he was planning on to be gentle with you but after what you said, that wasn’t an option anymore, he had to have you and keep you all to himself.

Your legs wrapped around him and he inserted himself with one thrust, you screamed in pain at first because it had been a while, ‘’Look at me.’’ He was deep inside you, you could feel his pubic hair tickling your skin. You meet his eyes and he started to move, you knew after this session you would have sore thighs, but you didn’t want him to stop. He stretched you out perfectly, ‘’Open your mouth.’’ And you did, he spit in your mouth, bit your lower lip, gave you multiple hickies.

Your fingers locking in his hair, you’ve never heard a man moan like him before, it made you clench around him again and again. You wetness and the sounds you make was heaven for him, of course he had multiple partners before but they all seemed fake, artificial, on the other hand you were screaming, tears in the corner of your eyes, you looked perfect. He sucked on your clothed nipples, gave them slaps, you were close and each sucking and slapping made you see stars, you liked his roughness. ‘’Come on my cock princess, let me feel it, come on.’’ He knew you were close and his praises pushed you over the edge, he followed behind.

His head fell to the crook of your neck, both of you were breathing heavily, ‘’I can’t let you go, not after this.’’

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wandasreallover · 6 months ago

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Obsession| wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings-mean wanda, readers bf

Part2

The air crackled with unspoken threats and suppressed desires, leaving me paralyzed with fear and a strange, unsettling fascination. I had no idea what was happening, what Wanda was capable of, what she intended to do with the power of her obsession. All I knew was that something had changed, the game had shifted, and the stakes had been raised to a level I could never have imagined.

It had started subtly, with lingering glances across the crowded lecture hall, a whispered 'hello' in the hallway that was just a shade too long, a note slipped under my door with a single word – 'mine.' The possessiveness in that word, the way it sent a shiver down my spine, was the first sign of the danger I was in.

Wanda Maximoff was a whirlwind of contradictions. She was the girl everyone feared and admired, the one with the sharp wit and the colder demeanor. I had always stood on the periphery, watching her from afar, mesmerized by her aura of mystery. But now, she was drawing me in, each interaction a step closer to a precipice I was both terrified and strangely drawn to. Rationally i knew i shouldn't give her even a thought, i mean i had the perfect boyfriend, grades and i was somewhat satified at my current life.

However, She was relentless. In class, her gaze was a laser beam, following my every movement, making me self-conscious, my every word carefully measured. In the library, our fingers brushed over the same book, sending a jolt of electricity through me. In the cafe, her presence was a weight, a suffocating pressure that made it difficult to breathe. I moved out not long after her confession, haunted by the words spoken that night, too unsettled by her presence to stay there.

'You're mine,' she said one night, her voice low and husky, the words barely a whisper. I was caught in my own apartment, drawn there by an invitation I didn't understand. The space was cramped, filled with an odd mix of vintage furniture and the scent of lavender incense. Her eyes, those deep dark apetures, held me captive, their intensity making my heart pound against my ribs.

'Wanda,' I tried to pull back, 'I don't understand.'despite every fibre of being screaming of the danger i still found it hard not to get somewhat lost in her overwhelming gaze.

She laughed, a brittle sound that echoed in the small space, her fingers tracing my jawline, her touch sending shivers down my spine. 'You're mine, and I won't let you go. You're mine, and soon you'll come to understand.'

Her words were a threat, but there was something else in her eyes, a flicker of vulnerability, a desperate need for connection that I couldn't ignore. I had always seen her as a fortress, impenetrable and cold, but now, beneath the hardened exterior, I saw a wounded soul, yearning for something she couldn't have. Much like before when the idea of her obsession was first spoken.

I tried to break free, to put distance between us, but she was everywhere. She was the ghost in my dreams, the voice in my head, the shadow that followed me like a relentless stalker. My friends noticed the change in me, the anxiety that gnawed at my insides, the constant fear that she was watching, that she knew everything.

Then came the incident.

She cornered me in the hallway, her eyes burning with a feverish intensity. 'You're mine,' she repeated, her voice barely a whisper, her hand gripping my arm with a force that made my skin crawl. The air around us crackled with an unseen energy, a palpable tension that made my hair stand on end.

Panic seized me, and I tried to pull away, but her grip tightened, her eyes burning into mine. I saw a flicker of something dark in her gaze, something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

'You're mine, and I will not be denied,' she whispered, her voice dangerous, her fingers digging into my flesh.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty apartment, a note on the table, a single word scrawled across the page - 'yours.' The air was heavy, the lingering scent of her perfume still clinging to the room.

The fear was replaced with a strange sense of relief. I was free, at least for now. But the experience had left a permanent scar, a constant reminder of the power of obsession, of the dark depths a human heart could reach.

Wanda was gone for now she didn't show up to classes in the following days and i couldn't help but miss her presence.the fear still remained, a constant shadow in my life. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that she was watching, waiting for her chance to claim what she believed was rightfully hers. The game had changed, and the stakes were higher than could have ever imagined, leaving me trapped in a twisted game of obsession, with no control over my own life.

#elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff angst #dark!wanda maximoff #obsession!au

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lillaluna · 10 months ago

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in this world and that world

Pairing: Diluc, Childe, Ayato, Wriothesley x f!Reader

Summary: You're absolutely in love with your beautiful character from the game Genshin Impact and at one point, you meet him in your reality.

DILUC

You've had an absolutely lousy day, preceded by the same morning and preceded by the same evening. It's been like this for a month now.

Going home after work, you decided that it would not be a bad idea to buy yourself a bottle of wine, especially today was Friday. Going to the shop, you went to your favourite rack and took that bottle of wine, which you had taken almost every Friday until today.

"I'd better not take it, it's not the best vintage and…"

"I'll probably sort out my own drinking, mister!" - you were just starting to wind up, like a flame that had been inadvertently splashed with fuel. Turning round to the guy who'd made the remark you were preparing to unleash all your anger on him, but when you met his scarlet eyes you froze. Then somewhere in the back of your mind you heard the sound of breaking glass. "Diluс," you squeaked.

The guy ignoring your daze fussed around you, holding out his hand for you to safely step over the shards from the broken bottle. He kept saying that one of the staff would come and clean it up, when you automatically put your hand into Diluс's open palm, and as soon as your fingers touched you passed out.

AYATO

After waiting at the bus stop for almost an hour, you decided there was nothing more to catch there and headed home on foot. It wasn't a long walk, but you were hampered by a downpour, the first of the rainy season. Scolding yourself for forgetting your umbrella at home and pressing your head into your shoulders as if it could save you from the large drops of rain, you waited for the traffic light to turn green, standing in front of the pedestrian crossing.

And at some point, the rain stopped. No, not everywhere. The drops stopped falling on the top of your head, pouring under your clothes. Without taking your eyes off the ground you turned your head a little and saw a man's light-coloured shoes, followed by white trousers. As you looked up, you noticed a blue shirt. And a white jacket that was thrown over the man's broad shoulders.

This image already reminded you vaguely of someone, and looking up, you met the blue eyes of the guy across from you.

You must have looked like a madwoman, standing like that, under the umbrella the man held over you, while you stared at him and literally forced yourself to breathe.

"Ayato…", you whispered quietly, afraid that the magic was about to dissipate or that you'd wake up in bed sweating, but the guy across from you just smiled sweetly.

"I thought we knew each other. I can't figure out where I've seen you before".

CHILDE

Evening. Your room in the student dormitory, where you've been trying to memorise the answers to the tests for one of the most important exams of your life for the past hour. On the one hand you're let down by your absent-mindedness and lack of concentration, and on the other… On the other hand by the loud music that's blaring, as it seems to you, to the whole neighbourhood.

Unable to stand these beautiful tunes, you decide to go and deal with the troublemaker. Of course, you hope to just ask him/her to turn it down, but you don't completely dismiss the idea that you might have to fight.

You had to knock long and hard, pulling the doorknob a few times before the music stopped and you finally heard footsteps outside the door. Preparing to utter an angry tirade, you took more air into your lungs, and as soon as the door opened you let the air out like a balloon.

Your first thought was that you'd fallen asleep. Yeah you must have fallen asleep playing on your phone, and that's why in your dream you now have Childe standing in front of you and smiling cheekily, awkwardly scratching himself on the back of his head.

"I guess I did it too loud," the guy says, but you just let it pass and looking at him full in your mind's eye, you unceremoniously reach out and poke your finger right into his chest to make sure he's real.

WRIOTHESLEY

Kicking the crap out of the punching bag at the gym became your favourite method of stress relief. Channelling all the negative emotions, you excitedly sent powerful, by your standards, punches into the sports equipment hanging in front of you.

You were not a super athletic girl, but rather the opposite, more of a slim and too thin. And very uncoordinated…

The "head with ears", as you called the hairstyle of your favourite character from your favourite game, captured your attention immediately, and you completely forgot about the fact that you were about to be attacked by a freshly beaten pear.

A moment later it did, and you collapsed to the floor with a loud "oh, fuck". Dropping your gloves and rolling over onto all fours, you crawled away from the still swinging punching bag. Your head felt a little dizzy as you shook it out of your eyes. Your gaze was immediately drawn to the red sneakers, which, judging by their size, were worn on a man's feet.

"Fuck," you exhaled, and lowered your head, recognising that in a moment, you'd have to burn with shame.

Resting one hand on the floor, you pushed yourself up to squat. Slowly glancing down at your legs, your black shorts, and then your white sports shirt, you tilted your head questioningly to the side as you noticed the scars on the guy's neck in front of you.

"I can't help you if you're going to sit in that pose and stare."

You could have sworn you were ready to faint when you heard that painfully familiar voice. As you looked up sharply to the guy's face, you realised that surely the pear had hit you on the head too hard, because in front of you stood Wriothesley, the same damn Duke Meropide.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #childe x reader #kamisato ayato #ayato x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #childe #tartaglia x reader

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kamotecue · 1 year ago

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accidental encounter ✮ k. cooney-cross

pairing: kyra cooney-cross x reader

summary: in which kyra cooney-cross bumps into the younger sister of her team mate, how does their story blossom?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you were walking on the streets of milton, brisbane. your bodyguard and one of your closest friends, archie followed behind you. he was dressed in a black tux, that had a matching vest, and tie. it was the day of the bronze match, between sweden and australia.

you had your schedule cleared, as you missed a few of your sister’s games. there was this major business deal in the uk making made you fly out to seal the deal, which you did. there’s no doubt as you walked on the street, you caught people’s eyes.

however, you were focused on your phone call that you didn’t notice someone walking ahead. you accidentally bumped into her, sending you both to the ground.

your phone ended up falling on the street, absolutely shattering it, while her hands ended up around your waist. archie had a lopsided grin on his face, but he quickly helped you to your feet.

as he turned to the floor, he held his hand out to which the lady has grabbed. you watched as she dusted the dirt of herself. but you found yourself admiring her freckles, she looked cute.

“sorry about that, i was a bit busy.” you said, as she gave you a soft smile. archie picked up your phone, and slipped it into one of his pockets, before handing you a new one.

“no worries, i’m kyra.” she said, as you held out your hand for her to shake.

“y/n.” you took notice of the clothes she was wearing to see it be the matildas nike blue jacket, making you furrow your eyebrows. so she plays on the same team for your sister.

“do you perhaps play football?” you asked, as she nodded.

“yeah, i play for the matildas.” you gave her a soft smile, as you felt archie nudge you.

“good luck later, it’s the bronze match if i’m not mistaken?” you asked, as kyra nodded.

“will you be watching?” she asked, her voice was a bit eager but it wasn’t enough for you to notice it. but you gave her a nod, knowing how you’ll be there to support your older sister.

“great, i hope to see you there?” she gave you a small smile, as you nodded. she’d be able to see you as you were seated in the family and friends section.

you watched as she bid goodbye, you saw archie give you a smirk and you really wanted to remove it. however, you pulled something out of the inner slot of your coat, a gold vintage style automatic pocket watch, it had a silver chain where you could connected it to your vest.

you were also wearing a business attire, seeing as you had something to settle at your company before the match. you headed to the restaurant that your family was at, opening the door you saw your sister chatting with your parents.

you caught her eyes as she waved you over, you walked confidently catching the eyes of everyone in the room.

“hello el, did you miss me?” you asked, as ellie gave you a soft smile before pulling you into a hug.

“course i did, you’ve been busy with your company. archie, you’re welcome to sit with us.” she said, as you gave her a nod, you’ve been so busy with your company that you hardly had time to spend with your family. archie gave your older sister a smile, before he took a seat beside you.

“i missed you as well, el.” you said, as the food came. they ordered you a burger with a side of fries, not to mention pineapple juice.

“are you nervous, el?” you asked, watching your older sister you just gave you a short nod. you spent a few minutes laughing with your family, and catching up before you had to go.

“i’ll see you guys at the game, and el you got this.” you said kissing your sister’s cheek, before leaving. the ride to the company’s headquarters in brisbane was silent, but archie had hummed from time to time.

“how long do you think the meeting would take?” archie looked from the front mirror to see your facial expression, you looked a bit deep in thought.

“perhaps an hour or two, why?” archie asked, as you shrugged.

“just wondering if i have time to change my outfit:” you wanted to wear ellie’s jersey, if you couldn’t then you’d probably wear a football scarf.

you definitely didn’t have time to change your outfit, so you opted with the matildas scarf, it was worn around your neck. with your attire, you had attracted fans from both sides as it wasn’t quite fitted for the occasion.

however you just ignored their looks, and took your seat at the family and friends section, sitting besides one of your parent before taking a small bag of gummies.

then the kick off began, you were nervous. australia is one of the co-hosts of this tournament, so you knew what it meant for the team, for ellie. in the 26th minute, blackstenius goes down under pressure from polkinghorne, but you groaned after the var review a penalty was awarded to sweden.

rolfö from sweden’s team is the one to take the penalty, as she places the ball on the penalty mark. she takes a short run up, before drilling her shot low into the bottom right corner. arnold, the matlidas goal keeper dives right into the way but can’t exactly stretch across to keep it out of her net, 1-0.

the whistle was blown, signaling half time. you watched ellie’s facial expression as she headed to the tunnel, frustration is all across her face.

“never knew a game was this stressful.” you said, as your mother laughed. you already finished your first packet of gummies, opening the second one as you offered some to your mother who grabbed a few pieces.

then the second half has started, in the 57th minute catley sends a cross to fowler who shoots it, but it is deflected by eriksson who kicked it a few feet away, cooney-cross managed to get a tap on the ball, taking the risk and making it hit the back of the net scoring the equalizer. you watched as the aussie fans cheered.

all they need to do is maintain the score, while trying to get another goal but that’s exactly what they did. in the 89th minute, foord scored an absolute worldie. sweden has crumpled to the ground knowing that they couldn’t score another goal, as the whistle blew marking the end of the game.

you watched as the matildas’s substitute bench ran onto the field, celebrated with the XI that were huddled. they had just won the bronze medal, you wore a proud smile on your face, you were happy that your sister won.

as the game ended, they received their medal’s firstly taking a picture and they did the lap around the field. you felt someone pull you to the field, as it was ellie.

“come on, n/n. i would like for you to meet the team.” ellie said as you came to a quick stop, and looked at her with wide eyes.

“i don’t exactly think that my attire is appropriate for this-“ ellie just laughed, as she tugged your arm forward, pulling you to katrina gorry who was with harper and charli grant.

“ladies, i’d like to introduce my younger sister, this is y/n.” ellie said, as charli’s eyes had this look as if she knew something.

“it’s nice to meet you y/n, i’m katrina.” katrina said, as she introduced you to harper. harper reached out her hands, to which you laughed, and gently carried her.

“y/n?” kyra asked, as she approached you. ellie turning to you with a soft smirk, so she’s the one you talked about when you were having lunch with them.

all you described was someone you thought was cute, had freckles but she never thought it was her teammate.

“kyra, it’s nice to see you again.” you said, nudging your sister’s stomach as she coughed.

“so, you’re ellie’s sister?” she asked, as you gave her a nod.

“right, i forgot to introduce myself—i’m y/n carpenter.” you said, holding your hand out to shake as she laughed. she returned it and gave you a soft smile.

“i’m kyra cooney-cross.” you gave her a smile, as charli’s eyes widened.

“so you’re the cute person that bumped into kyra, this morning.” charli said, as kyra gave her a harsh look. you laughed, then nodded.

“i won’t say i’m cute, but i’m definitely am the one that bumped into her.“ kyra shook her head laughing along with you.

“ellie told us you played soccer, wanna score a goal?” kyra asked, as you looked at your shoes.

“why not” kyra passed you a ball, to which you started juggling before tossing it up, going into a seal position, the ball had landed on top of your nose. when the ball fell, you swung your leg and watched the ball curved sending it into the top corner.

“such a show off.” ellie joked, as you lightly shoved her. kyra looked at you with a soft smile, as you joked around with ellie.

since that encounter, kyra was the first one to make the move. she had asked you out on a date, to which you accepted. it was a dinner date, before having a night walk near the beach.

#kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #matildas x reader

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