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cyberhughes · 4 months ago

Text

TAPOUT!

jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, luke hughes , fem!reader, cole caufield x fem!reader, trevor zegras x fem!reader

IN WHICH… the new social media intern for the new jersey devils gets a proper welcome from her favourite boys

NOTE guys i had to take a pause on the requests because this was just on my mind so bad…and if this is the fic that gets me canceled for being too controversial then we went out w a bang!! (pun not intended)

also this is dedicated to my kitten clara👩🏻‍🍳🤝 @lovecla i’m glad i have someone to share my insanity with i love you👅👅

she got that million dollar ooh ooh ohh...

make her tap out!

you don’t know how you got into this position. or, multiple positions. hot tears blurred your vision from clearly seeing the men in front of you. the men who had been watching you like you were prey the moment you stepped into the arena as a new social media intern, waiting for their chance to pounce on you.

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

“hey!” you stopped your steps as you heard a familiar voice call out just before you were about to head over to the seats to film some practice content.

luke, who you had met a few times, had skated up to the gate, a friendly smile on his face as he approached. “it’s y/n, right?” he asked and you nodded with a smile, most of the time players didn’t really care for the social media girls, simply answering their questions and going on about their day like you didn’t exist. hell, they probably wouldn’t have recognized you if they saw you walking on the street.

“so uh, feel free to say no,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “i was having a little get together with some other players tonight, and some friends from other teams too,” you nodded as you listened intently, scared you might zone out from admiring his features.

“and i was wondering if maybe you’d like to join? some of the other social media girls are gonna be there from the other teams so i was thinking that maybe you could like, connect with them or something? just cause you’re new.” he offered with a cheeky smile and you nodded, seeming calm but inside you were freaking out a bit, it was such a perfect opportunity!

you could get so many tips from the other girls, learning things from their past experience to limit any stupid mistakes you might make while learning on your own.

“yeah! i’d love to!” he grinned at your response, “okay, awesome! how ‘bout after practice i’ll give you the details?”

[ ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ]

you took in a deep breath before you firmly knocked on the door of luke’s apartment, nervousness bubbled in your stomach as you waited. you were excited to meet the other girls, and make some possible new connections with anyone else. your hands fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you heard clattering and music on the other side.

the door swung open, revealing a grinning luke. you tried to hide your surprise when you saw him, usually you had either seen him in either hockey gear or in a suit. you thought that it was refreshing to see him in something so laid back, a simple tshirt and jeans matched with a backwards cap that pushed his curls nicely to the back and side of his head.

“hey y/n!” he stepped back to let you in. you returned the greeting as you stepped in as you scanned the apartment, and wow. he really downplayed on the ‘small get together’. the apartment was bustling with players of different teams chatting and drinking, yet you couldn’t spot any of the social media girls. hm, maybe they were running late.

luke noticed the way your shoulders dropped slightly in disappointment. “oh, yeah i’m sorry y/n.” he shook his head as he led you into the living room where some familiar faces were sitting. “the other girls said they couldn’t come anymore. last minute family emergencies and some illnesses or something.” he spoked and you simply nodded. “oh, that’s too bad.” you responded, it was too bad. but you looked on the brighter side of things, you would get to know the players in a more candid setting, even starting some new friendships.

“hey guys, y/n came.” luke introduced you to everyone and you waved shyly. sitting beside jack on the couch was trevor zegras and cole caufield, with quinn sitting on an arm chair just beside.

“hey y/n!” jack slapped his hands on his thighs as he stood up from his position on the couch. “it’s too bad the other girls couldn’t come, but we’re still gonna have fun, right?” he said and you nodded, cheeks slightly burning when he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. the greeting threw you off slightly, only having met him a handful of times

“what do you say we get you a drink, hm?” he offered and you nodded, following along, you didn’t want to be impolite. you’d have one drink to settle your nerves before getting to know the players.

you didn’t notice the devilish grin jack shot luke as he placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the kitchen.

the night was going pretty smoothly, you had spent most of your time with the five guys you had initially been introduced with. you talked about your major for a bit, why you wanted to go into sports marketing, a bit about your personal life.

you went to take a sip of your drink as you listened to quinn talk about, well you weren't really sure what, but you had noticed your cup was empty. luke peered over, “oh, i can refill that for you.” he reached out his hand and you smiled, “sure, maybe just a soda, please?” he nodded. you don’t know how many times that night luke got up to get you another soda, but you didn’t complain. he was being a good host and you didn’t want to be rude.

“so what does your boyfriend think of you working in sports marketing?” cole smiled, taking a sip of his drink. you shook your head and chuckled in slight embarrassment, “oh, i don’t have a boyfriend.”

“really? but you’re so pretty?” trevor hummed from beside you. he had his arm draped behind you on the couch, and he reached up to twirl a strand of your hair as you blushed fifty shades of red.

you didn’t know how to respond to the compliment, squeaking out a quiet ‘thank you.’

the room started to get hot, maybe from embarrassment, maybe from the amount of bodies crowded into one space.

“hey, you okay?” quinn asked, noticing the way you were playing with the collar of your cardigan, trying to loosen it’s grip on your neck.

“uh, yeah sorry. just feeling a bit weird.” you gave him a tight lipped smile, you didn’t want to ruin the night, you had worked so hard to get where you are today and you didn’t want to ruin any of your newly made friendships with the players.

“hey it’s okay,” jack moved a few strands of hair away from your face, an expression of false concern taking over his features. “why don’t you lay down in luke's room for a bit while we call it a night?” he offered and you shook your head, “i don’t want to ruin your night.” he smiled at your pout, “don’t worry ‘bout it, luke will show you the way.”

and so luke led you to his room, letting you lean your weight onto his arm as he guided you.

“just sit down m’kay?” you nodded and plopped on the bed, feeling a weird warmth spread throughout your body. were you catching a fever? was it pms? you had never felt this feeling before. “they’ll tell everyone to go home.” he stroked your hair, letting you lean onto his shoulder.

quinn walked into the room, with jack, trevor and cole following right behind. “you okay y/n?” quinn asked as he took a seat next to you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “you’re getting hot, why don’t you take your sweater off?” you nodded and let him unbutton your cardigan, peeling off the fabric and letting his cold hands graze your skin.

“why don’t you stay over tonight?” luke murmured as his eyes fell to your cleavage once your cardigan was taken off.

“yeah, we don’t want you out driving like this.” trevor kneeled in front of you, examining your face as the boys nodded in agreement.

was this inappropriate? staying over at luke’s apartment? you were just the social media girl, you didn’t want it to seem like you had taken this job just to get closer to the players. then again, maybe they were right. it wasn’t safe for a young woman to head home alone in an uber so late at night.

“just let us take care of you baby, okay?” luke pushed your hair to the side as he whispered into your ear, letting his lips trail down to your neck where he placed a small kiss. you shivered at the touch, feeling your butterflies in your stomach. “o-okay…” you sighed when he pressed another kiss onto your shoulder.

“you feeling hot? why don’t we take off the rest of your clothes, hm?” quinn’s fingers toyed with the strap of your tank top. “is…is this weird?” you looked up at him with doe eyes, tears barely forming. he gave you an endearing smile, admiring how cute you looked. “no, we’re all friends here, just wanna take care of you.” he said and you nodded.

quinn carefully helped you out of your tank top and skirt, revealing your lace bra and panties which you tried to cover up in embarrassment. you felt the bed dip behind you, jack and cole approaching on the situation.

you felt like prey underneath their gazes, their eyes burning over your exposed flesh like they were getting ready to devour you, their mouths practically watering

“so pretty…” cole's voice was barely above a whisper as he watched they way trevor traced his fingers closer and closer to your core.

this was extremely wrong, it was dirty. yet you couldn’t help but feel your panties get damper at their ministrations.

trevor looked up at you, tilting his head with a friendly smile, “gonna let us use you, pretty girl?” as he gently pushed open your thighs and you gave him a dazed nod, your response nearly coming out as a whimper, “yes.” you knew what they were doing, you knew that this was extremely perverted and wrong, but you were too far gone.

your lips parted in a soft gasp as you felt his fingers trace over your cunt overtop of your pink panties. you felt so many hands on you, groping at your breasts through your bra, slender hands pulling your thighs open just a bit further.

trevor pushed your panties to the side, toying with your slick before pushing in a single finger, looking up for your reaction. you whimpered, leaning back onto cole’s chest while he placed a small kiss on your temple.

trevor slowly pumped his finger, your arousal growing with the overwhelming amount of stimulation you were receiving from everyone. “so tight…” he mumbled as he stared with amazement before forcing a second and soon third finger. he pumped his digits in and out, earning moans from you that felt like music to their ears. from behind you, jack reached around to toy with your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

tears threatened to fall as you felt the heat pool in your lower stomach, “m…m gonna cum..” you whined, body fighting the way cole hand you down as you squirmed.

“go on baby, it’s okay.” quinn licked at your ear and that was all it took for you to snap, your first orgasm of the night washing over you with an intensity you had never felt before.

“fuck..” luke’s mouth dropped open as he watched your release squirt out onto trevor's tattooed arm, his fingers practically jackhammering into you as he pulled every moan he could from you until you were breathless.

everything felt hazy as they lied you down, they took their time taking off the only fabric that you had left, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable. you heard some rummaging around but stayed focused on catching your breath.

you dazily watch jack as he climbed on top of you, trailing comforting kisses from your stomach up to your neck. “you okay with this?” he asked as he stroked his cock from below you, positioning it at your fluttering entrance. you nodded frantically and he smirked, “‘course you are.” you felt your stomach drop at the mockery in his voice, but you didn’t have much time to think about it before he pushed into you, taking all the air from your lungs. “fuck baby,” he groaned, letting himself sink fully, tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall at the intense stretch.

he didn’t give you time to adjust as he began thrusting into you with fervor, lifting your legs and pressing them to your chest. his fingers dug into your thighs and he pushed them down, leaving bruises onto your delicate skin. “you’re so dirty, y/n.” he grinned from above you and you felt the tears fall, which he quickly kissed away. you could tell he was about to cum when his thrusts became harsher, his cock kissing at your cervix as he let out deep groans.

his gaze flickered from the way your pussy sucked him in, up to your face, cheeks red and stained with tears as you watched him with hooded eyes. “fuckkk,” he breathed out, letting himself shoot his load into you, hips stuttering as he did so.

you let out a whine when he pulled out, feeling his cum drip out of your hole and down to your ass. you don’t even notice when he had switched positions with trevor and cole, the two boys admiring your fucked out expression before taking their turn with you.

“such a pretty little whore.” trevor smiled at you sweetly, a contrast to his degrading words. he flipped you onto your stomach with ease, lifting your hips up so that your ass was flush with his pelvis.

cole positioned himself in front of you, and you knew what he wanted. you stuck your tongue out, looking up at him with doe eyes and he swore he could’ve cum just from the sight. he slapped his cock over your tongue as trevor spread your ass cheeks from behind, getting a better view of your swollen cunt before he lined himself up with your already leaking hole.

you moaned around cole’s cock as trevor thrusted into you, the vibrations sending instant pleasure throughout his body. you steadied yourself by placing your hands on his thick thighs, letting your nails dig into his skin as he let out the prettiest whines.

you let out a squeal when trevor slapped your ass, quickly smoothing his hand over the red mark to soothe the pain. “so filthy,” it didn’t take them long before they came, shooting their loads from both ends.

you had no choice but to swallow cole’s cum when he pushed your head down all the way, nose to pelvis as his body shook in pleasure.

he cupped your face with one hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he thanked you, leaving your heart fluttering. trevor placed a kiss onto your back before the two of them moved away, letting quinn take over.

quinn’s eyes scanned you with a look of disapproval and pity. “so messy, baby.” you pouted at his words, he was right though. you had cum and spit leaking at the corner of your mouth, your hair was tousled and your cunt was already stuffed full. he grabbed your tank top that was thrown onto the bed earlier and quickly cleaned you up.

“there we go.” he smiled softly before leaning down to give you a proper kiss on this lips and your eyes fluttered closed, your hands reaching up to tangle themselves in his hair. he trailed his kiss from your mouth down to your breasts, licking and sucking at the reddening skin. “poor baby,” he murmured, “didn’t even get to cum again, hm? it’s okay though, i’m gonna take proper care of you.” he said, a slight dig to the men who had previously used you without any regard for your own pleasure.

he laid you down, dipping his middle finger between your folds, chuckling at the way your hole fluttered, clenching around nothing. “i’ll take care of you.” he soon replaced his finger with his aching cock, pushing into you gently as he hushed your whimpers with a kiss.

“doing so good for us, aren’t you baby?” his hand trailed down to lazily massage at your neglected clit. “q-quinn…” your nails scratched at his back, leaving bright red marks and he hissed at the pleasurable pain, nipping at your collarbones. “it’s okay, i got you baby.” he rocked into you, never ceasing his actions on your clit and you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as his thrusts deepened. “you gonna cum for me, pretty girl? huh? gonna put on a show on for them?” you whined at his words, squirming underneath him as the heat pooled in your belly.

“k-kiss..” you mumbled and he smiled, “yeah, i got you.” he leaned down and you kissed him deeply, moving your hips up to meet him halfway. “go on baby, let go.” he whispered against your lips when he felt your grip on him tighten, your pussy spasming as you came, him following soon after, pulling out to cum onto the soft skin of your stomach.

your vision was blurry as you came down from your orgasm, body on fire from the consistent stimulation with no break. you felt quinn pepper kiss over your face, “you did so good baby.” he placed on last kiss on your lips, savoring the sweet taste of your saliva, “it’s okay, it’s almost over.” he reassured and you hummed in confusion, before you saw luke standing at the edge of the bed.

you didn’t know if you had it in you, and god he looked big standing there. “luke…” you whimpered as you tried crawling back up the bed, but he grabbed your ankles and pulled you back down.

“m’sorry baby,” he pouted, “you’re gonna let me fuck you, right? it’s only fair. i’m the one who thought you were pretty first.” he said like it was a competition before pushing himself in, your eyes going wide as your body tensed. even though you had been fucked plenty that night, none of them could’ve possible compared to the way luke’s cock was stretching you out.

hot tears fell down your cheeks as he thrusted into you, letting one of his large hands press down onto your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock as he fucked you. “too big luke!” you cried, thrashing underneath him and leaned down closer, his cock hitting deeper. “you can take it, know you can.” he grunted, his tip brushing against your cervix and you gripped onto his biceps like he was your lifeline. “luke! s’too much!” you cried and he licked as the salty tears from your face.

he didn’t let up his pace, continuing to fuck into you like he had been dreaming of since he first laid eyes on you at the rink. “my pretty girl...” he cooed as your screams of overstimulation echoed in his ears as he reached places inside you no one had ever reached before.

it wasn’t long before yet another load was dumped into you, your eyes lolling to the back of your head as you let out a silent scream while you came for the final time that night.

the room fell silent, the boys entranced at your fucked out expression, limp on the bed with your skin decorated with their cum.

“fuck, wait till nico sees this.” jack was quick to pull out his phone, snapping a picture of you.

“there’s no leaving us now, baby doll.”

©cyberhughes; do not copy, translate or repost my work without permission.

#jack hughes smut #quinn hughes smut #luke hughes smut #cole caufield smut #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #cole caufield x reader #trevor zegras x reader #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey smut

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cosmiclily · 2 months ago

Note

hii - jst wanted to say girl Ur writing is *chef's kiss* okok so i saw requests were open and im a SUCKER for actors au arcane soooo could u write a actor vi x co star!fem reader?? could it be a lil not like enemies but at first their energies don't match, but they soon learn to like eachother. on the premiere they were seen together and get asked questions abt eachother. vi keeps her hand on co star's waist whispering in her ear. idkkk jst some fluff plsss

- btw i was the anon who asked for the domestic vi teehee 🤭

love your work, xx

play pretend

✰ vi x f!reader

wc: 6.2k

notes: (snoopy pfp twins!!!) first of all, thank you !!!!!! and also your requests are so good i always have fun writing them😭😭 second, kinda got a little too excited about the request lol

If anyone watched Complex without doing any prior research, they would undoubtedly say that you and Vi had undeniable chemistry. The tension, the longing glances, the way you played off each other—it was electric. So electric that after the movie was released, the audience wanted more and more from the two of you.

But off-screen? Things weren’t nearly as perfect.

At first, Vi had been thrilled to work with you. She had been a fan for years, and when her manager called her about the role—and, more importantly, who she’d be working with—she couldn’t say yes fast enough. She had pictured smooth sailing, late-night script reads, inside jokes, maybe even the start of a great friendship.

What she hadn’t pictured was the absolute nightmare that was your first meeting.

You were thirty minutes late to the chemistry read, walking in with a sour expression and barely sparing her a glance. No pleasantries, no introductions—you simply read your lines (flawlessly, of course), nodded at the director, and walked right back out. Vi had sat there, script still in hand, completely thrown.

Things did not get better from there.

The two of you bickered about everything. Blocking, line delivery, even what music should play between takes. It was like you had been designed to push each other’s buttons.

And then there was the first kiss rehearsal.

Vi, in all her brilliance, had eaten a tuna sandwich right before the scene.

The second you leaned in and caught the scent, you recoiled so fast you nearly toppled over. "Are you serious?!" you had shouted, fanning your face as if that would somehow make the stench disappear.

Vi? She had lost it.

She laughed so hard she had to physically hold onto the set piece to keep herself upright. It took a full ten minutes and an entire pack of breath mints for you to even consider going through with the scene.

But as much as you bickered, there was no denying it—the chemistry was off the charts. The moment the cameras started rolling and you weren’t Y/N and Vi anymore, something clicked. Suddenly, you were two best friends hopelessly in love, bound by circumstances that would never allow them to be together. It was raw, it was emotional, and it was so frustrating for the director.

"Cut!" Frank shouted, exasperation dripping from his voice. As soon as the word left his mouth, you immediately stepped away from Vi, your longing expression vanishing like it had never been there.

"You delivered your last line too late," you huffed, flipping through your script. "The silence was awkward."

Vi rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "It’s called dramatic tension. Like my character is hesitating before saying it. You don’t know art."

You scoffed. "That’s bullshit."

"Oh my god," Frank groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can’t the two of you just stop?"

Both of you turned to face him, blinking as if you hadn’t just spent the last five minutes arguing.

"If I hadn’t sunk so much goddamn money into this movie," he continued, his face red with frustration, "and if your chemistry on screen wasn’t so damn perfect, I would’ve fired you both by now! This is insane! You can’t go three seconds without fighting!"

You and Vi exchanged a glance—one that probably lasted all of two seconds before she smirked and you scoffed again.

This was going to be a long shoot.

Later, after finally wrapping for the day, you were in your dressing room, peeling off your character’s persona and replacing it with your own. You had just finished touching up your lipstick in the bright vanity mirror when your manager, Mel, stormed in—her expression immediately telling you she did not bring good news.

"Frank is fuming," she announced, crossing her arms. "Livid. He says you're a brat who thinks she runs the set, and that Vi has the humor of a twelve-year-old boy."

You let out a small snort, not even bothering to look at her. "Well, he’s not wrong about Vi."

Mel shot you a glare. "What the hell are you two doing? How are you supposed to promote this movie when you can’t even be in the same room for five minutes without arguing?"

You sighed dramatically, turning back to the mirror as you fixed a stray hair. "Well, if she wasn’t so damn stubborn and stupid, I wouldn’t have a problem with her."

Mel groaned, rubbing her temples as if you were single-handedly giving her a migraine. "You know what? That’s it. I was talking to Vander, and he agreed—the two of you need figure this thing out, go out together or something."

That caught your attention. You turned to her, brows furrowing. "Go out together? Like what? A forced bonding exercise?"

"Yes, exactly," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at you. "And don’t look at me like that. I wanted to lock you two in a room for the entire weekend, but Vander thought “hanging out” was a better option."

Your lips parted slightly in disbelief. "That was your suggestion?"

Mel shrugged. "It would've worked."

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "What exactly are we supposed to do together?"

Mel smirked. "That’s for you and Vi to figure out."

Mel had given you Vi’s number—which you didn’t have after working with her for more than a month—and told you to text her. She even threatened to call your mom if you didn’t, which, honestly, was a low blow.

Naturally, you did not text Vi.

By the time you got home, showered, and settled into bed with a book you’d been dying to read, you were so ready to ignore the outside world for the next three hours. But, of course, your phone pinged with a notification from an unknown number.

(Unknown Number)

hey

(it’s vi by the way)

vander said i have to text you and we have to go out together ?

You sighed, rolling onto your back before lazily typing out a response.

You:

yeah, mel said the exact same thing to me. not that i’m too excited about it.

Violet Lane:

i know you hate me and stuff, but if we could just get this over with it would be better lol

You frowned.

You:

i don’t hate you?

Violet Lane:

you don’t like me either

anyway, we can just go to a restaurant or something, talk this over and “bond” (or whatever)

You stared at your screen for a moment, chewing on your lip. Did Vi really think you hated her? Sure, you bickered—a lot—but that was just how you two were. You pushed, she pushed back. It was an endless back and forth, but hate? That was a strong word.

You hesitated before typing.

You:

fine. tomorrow at 7?

Violet Lane:

cool. see you then.

You sighed, tossing your phone onto your nightstand and staring at the ceiling.

Yeah. This was either going to be a complete disaster or the longest two hours of your life.

──────────────────────

At 6:35 p.m., you were already ready—probably too ready. You had checked and rechecked your outfit, adjusted your hair at least five times, and debated whether your makeup was too casual or too much.

Your stomach was tight with nerves, anxiety creeping up for no reason at all. It was just dinner. Just a casual outing with a coworker who thought you hated her (and who, admittedly, got on your nerves more often than not). You were only doing this because Mel and Vander had threatened you into it.

Still, you found yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the time on your phone like it would magically change.

Should I text her?

Would that be weird?

Would it be even weirder if I just showed up at the restaurant early?

Before you could second-guess yourself, you opened your messages.

You:

i know i said 7, but i finished the things i had to do earlier, so i’m ready. do you wanna meet there or go together?

(Lie. You had absolutely nothing to do today—but Vi didn’t need to know that.)

A response came quickly.

Violet Lane:

i can pick you up, if you want. i’m ready as well.

You blinked. That was… unexpectedly nice of her.

You:

[your address]

As soon as you sent it, you tossed your phone onto the couch and exhaled, running a hand through your hair.

Okay. No big deal. You were just getting dinner.

Then why the hell did it feel like you were about to go on a date?

──────────────────────

Vi picked you up, and the drive to the restaurant was… painfully awkward. You slid into the passenger seat, muttered a quiet hey, and she responded with a nod and a simple hey back. And then… nothing.

No music. No conversation. Just the sound of the road beneath the tires and the occasional glance exchanged between you two.

At the restaurant, things weren’t much better. You placed your orders, handed the menus back to the waitress, and then sat there—staring at each other like you were both waiting for the other person to break the silence.

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly in your seat. This is ridiculous.

“Soo…” you started, grasping for anything remotely close to small talk. “Anything good happening these days?”

Vi shrugged, leaning back against her chair. “Nah. Just working, you know.”

Riveting.

“Right. Of course.” You nodded “Me too.”

Another pause.

You took a sip of your drink. Vi did the same.

This was painful.

You were supposed to be bonding, fixing the weird tension between you, but so far, it felt like the two of you were just tolerating each other's presence.

Vi exhaled through her nose, drumming her fingers against the table. “Okay, this is weird, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, so weird.”

Vi cracked a small grin, shaking her head. “Alright, let’s just—be normal. For once.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For once?”

“You did spend the first two weeks acting like I personally offended your ancestors.”

Your mouth dropped open. “I did not!”

Vi shot you a knowing look.

“…Okay, maybe I wasn’t the most welcoming.” You rolled your eyes. “But you were annoying as hell.”

Vi smirked. “Still am.”

“Unfortunately.”

And from then on, you actually talked.

Your food arrived, and for the first time since you started working together, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about why you got into acting, your dream roles, the best and worst people you’d worked with, the projects you would never do, and the actors you’d always wanted to work with.

“Well, I always wanted to work with you.” Vi’s voice was softer now, a little hesitant, as she cut into her steak.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, avoiding your eyes as if embarrassed to admit it. “One of the reasons I took this role was because your name was already on it.”

That was… surprising. Vi, who you were sure couldn’t stand you, had actually wanted to work with you?

“I always admired your work,” she added, still not quite meeting your gaze. “Your performances always felt so real—like you weren’t just acting, you were that person. I thought, ‘damn, if I ever get the chance to work with her, I have to take it.’”

For a moment, you just stared at her, unsure how to respond. This was the same Vi who had laughed for ten minutes over a tuna sandwich before your first kiss rehearsal. The same Vi who had argued with you over every minor detail on set. The same Vi who, up until an hour ago, you were convinced didn’t even like you.

And yet, here she was, admitting that she’d taken this role, in part, because of you.

You swallowed, setting your fork down. “I—wow. I didn’t know that.”

Vi finally glanced up, offering a small, almost sheepish smile. “Well… now you do.”

And maybe—just maybe—you could actually make this work.

──────────────────────

After that dinner, work became bearable.

Frank no longer looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown every time you and Vi were in the same room. You still bickered, but now it was more playful than anything—teasing quips, exaggerated eye rolls, and smirks exchanged between takes.

And, to your absolute horror, you actually laughed at one of her jokes.

“I can’t believe my eyes!” Vi exclaimed dramatically, pointing at you like you were a rare species on display. “She’s actually laughing at my joke! Somebody get a camera, this is a historic moment!”

“Shut up!” you said between chuckles, trying (and failing) to regain your composure.

After that, things just… shifted.

Vi started bringing you coffee in the mornings—because apparently, she noticed that your usual sour mood could be fixed with a large caramel macchiato. She never said anything about it, just handed you the cup with a smirk like it was no big deal.

And maybe it wasn’t a big deal.

Maybe it also wasn’t a big deal that you’d started looking forward to seeing her face every morning. Or that you caught yourself glancing at her between takes, watching the way she effortlessly charmed the crew with her stupid jokes and easygoing attitude.

It was not a big deal.

Until one of your last scenes together.

Vi’s character was leaving. It was an emotional scene—there were tears, there was rain, there was heartbreak. The two of you stood on a dimly lit train platform, the cold air thick with tension, with unsaid words.

And then you ran to her, your shoes splashing against the wet pavement as you grabbed her arm, desperation spilling from your lips.

“You can’t leave me in this town,” you pleaded, breathless, water dripping from your soaked hair. “It’s not fair. They can’t make you do this!”

Vi turned to you, her face half-lit by the flickering station lights, raindrops clinging to her lashes. “It’s not their choice,” she said, voice unsteady, tears mixing with the artificial rain. “I want to leave.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “I can’t keep living this lie. I can’t be myself here.”

Your breath hitched. You shook your head, your hands trembling as they clutched the fabric of her soaked jacket. “Please,” you sobbed, the cold making you shake, but not nearly as much as the emotions clawing their way out of you. “I—I love you.”

The words came out like a confession, like a wound torn open.

And for a moment—just a moment—you weren’t sure if the silence between you was scripted or not.

Vi’s eyes locked onto yours, her breath shallow, her lips parted slightly. You could hear the rain hitting the pavement, the distant sound of a train horn echoing through the empty station.

Then, she kissed you.

You had kissed before. Countless times, in countless takes. But this? This was different.

Her hands found your waist, pulling you in, grounding you in the middle of the storm. One of them trailed up, fingertips ghosting along your skin before settling at the back of your neck, holding you like you were something fragile.

You melted into her, fingers curling into the damp fabric of her shirt, letting yourself sink into the warmth of her despite the freezing rain.

And then, just as suddenly, she pulled away—her breath ragged, forehead resting against yours.

“I love you too,” she said, softer than she should have. “But not enough to stay.”

And just like that, she was gone.

She turned, stepping onto the train, leaving you standing on that rain-soaked platform, crumbling from the inside out.

When Frank called cut, the entire set fell into stunned silence.

No one moved. No one spoke. The only sound was the steady patter of artificial rain against the pavement, mixing with the remnants of your ragged breathing.

Then, as if snapping out of a trance, crew members rushed forward, wrapping warm towels around your trembling frame, fussing over you, making sure you weren’t too cold.

But none of it registered.

Because your eyes were still on her.

Vi stood a few feet away, drenched, her chest still rising and falling from the weight of the scene. Strands of wet hair clung to her forehead, rain trailing down the curve of her jaw, but she didn’t move to wipe it away. She just looked at you.

It was a silent conversation, one you weren’t sure you understood.

And then, just like that, someone called her name, and the moment was gone.

──────────────────────

After wrapping up filming and sending the movie into post-production, you and Vi barely kept in contact.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Life simply got busy. You had new projects to consider, meetings to attend, scripts to read. You were thrown back into the chaotic whirlwind of the industry, and Vi… well, Vi had her own life.

But that didn’t stop the weird feeling in your chest. The absence of her was something you noticed, in ways you didn’t expect.

Her face wasn’t the first thing you saw when you walked on set every morning, You no longer groggily accept the caramel macchiato she always brought you with that smug little smirk. You didn’t hear her humming on set, or listen to her dumb jokes between takes.

The worst part? You caught yourself missing it.

You missed the way she’d argue with you over the most insignificant things, how her eyes would light up whenever she got you to crack a smile, how easy it had become to just be around her.

And maybe that was why, after a month of telling yourself you were too busy to reach out, you found yourself sitting in Mel’s office, trying—and failing—to make it sound like you weren’t fishing for an excuse.

“Have you heard from Frank?” you asked, leaning casually against her desk, as if this were just a passing thought.

Mel didn’t even look up from the magazine she was reading—the one that featured an interview you had given a few weeks ago. “About?”

“Post-production for Complex,” you said, picking at the edge of a business card on her desk. “We must be starting promotions soon, right?”

That finally made her glance up, one perfectly arched brow raising as she studied you. The sharp gold liner on her eyelids made her green eyes look even more piercing.

“You know you don’t need an excuse to talk to her, right?”

Your hand froze mid-pick.

You let out a nervous laugh. “What do you mean by that? I’m asking about the movie.”

“Uh-huh.” Mel’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as she lazily flipped another page. “Everything’s on track. Frank said you should hear about it soon. The movie trailer should be out in a week or two.”

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. That was good. That meant press tours, interviews, red carpets—things that would inevitably bring you and Vi back into each other’s orbit.

You should have been focusing on that.

But all you could think about was your phone, sitting in your pocket. And the fact that nothing was stopping you from pulling it out, scrolling to her name, and just—

You swallowed, pushing the thought away.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

──────────────────────

After the movie trailer was released, you filmed a couple of interviews, and suddenly, it felt like you were whole again.

Vi’s presence was there—her lazy smirk, the sarcasm wrapped in dry humor, the way she’d nudge you under the table just to see if she could get a reaction.

It was like nothing had changed.

Like you hadn’t spent weeks pretending you weren’t waiting for a message from her. Like you hadn’t caught yourself missing her laugh in the middle of a quiet afternoon. Like there wasn’t something undeniably different lingering between you, hidden beneath the playful banter and easy rhythm you fell back into so effortlessly.

But it was different.

Because now, every stolen glance lasted a second too long. Every brush of her fingers against yours felt intentional. And every time she looked at you—really looked at you—you swore you could still feel the ghost of that last kiss, the way her hands had held you like she was afraid to let go.

And you didn’t know if you were imagining it, if you were just hoping for something more than what it really was, if you were being downright delusional.

But if it meant she would be around you for longer, you would be the most delusional person in the world.

“Earth to Y/N.” Vi’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you blinked rapidly, turning to face her. She was looking at you with a knowing smirk, her elbow propped on the armrest between you. “You good over there? Looked like you were having a moment or something.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Just thinking about how much I regret agreeing to this interview with you.”

Vi gasped, placing a hand over her heart in mock offense. “And here I was, so excited to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

The interviewer, who had been watching your interaction with amusement, cleared her throat. “It’s clear you two have amazing chemistry, both on-screen and off. Was it always like this during filming?”

Vi grinned, glancing at you. “Oh, absolutely not. Y/N hated me at first.”

You groaned. “I did not hate you!”

“She totally did.” Vi turned back to the interviewer, ignoring your protests. “She was all serious and broody, barely talked to me for the first couple of weeks. But then I broke her.” She smirked, tilting her head toward you. “Didn’t I?”

You gave her a flat look, but you couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through your chest. “You wish.”

The interviewer laughed. “Well, whatever the process was, it clearly worked, because your performances in Complex are incredible.”

Vi nodded. “What can I say? We’re just that good.”

And maybe she was right. Maybe this—whatever this was—was just the natural result of spending so much time together. Of playing two people desperately in love.

But then Vi glanced at you again, her expression softer this time, her arm brushing against yours on the armrest.

And suddenly, you weren’t so sure.

The next interviews were all like that—her lingering touches, the way her fingers would find the small of your back when she guided you through a crowd, the way she’d stare at you like you were the only person in the room.

It was weird. Even for Vi.

Sure, you were both actors, but she couldn’t be acting all of it. Not when her hand rested on your waist a second longer than necessary. Not when she looked at you like she was memorizing your face.

And yet, you kept telling yourself you were imagining things.

Until one particular interview made it impossible to ignore.

“So, we heard rumors about your interactions on set,” the interviewer, a short blonde girl with an overly cheerful tone, began, her eyes locked onto Vi. “How you bickered all the time and made the director go nuts. What do you have to say about that, Vi?”

She acted like you didn’t even exist.

Almost all the questions were directed at Vi, and even when you did answer something, she barely spared you a glance, her attention fixed entirely on Vi, nodding eagerly at every word she said.

You tried not to let it bother you, but with every passing minute, you felt yourself shrinking in your chair.

By the time you left the studio, you were fuming.

Vi, however, was thoroughly entertained.

She gave you a ride home, and the moment you got into the car, you turned to her with an exaggerated voice.

“What do you have to say about that, Vi?” you mocked the interviewer’s tone. “Oh, I think you’re so hot, and I’m going to ignore Y/N while I talk to you!”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head as she started the engine. “Damn, that’s pretty good. You should do impressions more often.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at her.

“What?” She smirked, sparing you a glance. “Are you jealous?”

Your cheeks burned instantly.

“Of course I am! She ignored me the whole time!”

Vi snorted, her grip tightening around the steering wheel. “Yeah, because she was too busy flirting with me.”

You huffed, looking out the window. “Could’ve at least redirected a question or two…”

Vi was quiet for a moment before she said, voice laced with amusement, “Didn’t know you cared so much about my attention, princess.”

You turned to glare at her again, but she was grinning, eyes still on the road.

“Shut up.”

Vi only laughed, shaking her head.

And when her hand dropped from the gear shift, resting just close enough to your thigh, you didn’t move away.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence. The night air was crisp, the windows rolled down just enough for the wind to kiss your face, ruffling your hair as the city lights blurred past.

For a moment, it almost felt like old times—like the months apart hadn’t left a hollow space in your chest, like you hadn’t spent too many nights staring at your phone, hesitating over an unsent message.

And then, just before Vi pulled up in front of your place, she spoke.

“Why didn’t you text me?” Her voice was casual, like she was asking about the weather, like it didn’t really matter. She kept her eyes on the road, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “Or call?”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the question—by the way it hung between you, heavier than it should be.

You turned to look at her, studying her profile, the soft glow of the streetlights casting shadows across her face.

“Why didn’t you?”

Vi finally glanced at you, just for a second, but there was something in her expression—something unreadable, something that made your chest tighten.

She let out a soft scoff, shaking her head as she pulled the car into park.

“Touché” she muttered.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged—like a question waiting to be answered, like a decision waiting to be made.

Then you opened the door.

Pausing for just a second, you glanced back at her. Vi was watching you now, her fingers still drumming against the steering wheel, jaw tense like she had something to say but wasn’t sure if she should.

You offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“See you on the premiere.”

And with that, you stepped out, closing the door behind you.

──────────────────────

On the day of the premiere, a driver picked you and Mel up. She spent the entire drive coaching you—how to answer questions, how to walk, how to carry yourself—but none of it stuck. Her voice was just background noise, drowned out by the only thought looping in your mind.

Vi.

How would she act? Would she pretend like nothing was going on? Would she ignore you? Would the two of you just be professional—smiling for the cameras, standing side by side like coworkers instead of... whatever it was you had become?

The knot in your stomach tightened with every mile closer to the venue. Your palms were damp, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“Are you even listening to me?” Mel’s voice finally broke through your daze.

You blinked, turning to her. “Huh?”

She sighed, exasperated but amused. “That’s what I thought.” Then, with a knowing smirk, she added, “She’s probably thinking about you just as much as you’re thinking about her.”

You scoffed, looking away. It was like Mel had a sixth sense.

She just chuckled, shaking her head. “Hopeless.”

The car slowed to a stop, and suddenly, it was time.

Blinding flashes erupted from every direction, a chorus of voices calling your name. You moved with practiced ease—smiling, posing, keeping your posture pristine as you stepped onto the red carpet.

But your mind was elsewhere.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, searching. Looking for her.

If Vi had arrived, you couldn’t see her. And that realization made the knot in your stomach twist just a little tighter.

You spotted Frank mid-interview and took the opportunity to approach him.

“Hii!” You waved, making your presence known.

“Oh, there she is! One of our stars of the night!” Frank beamed, his entire demeanor much warmer than the no-nonsense director you were used to seeing on set. “She’s one of the reasons we’re standing here tonight!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Don’t flatter yourself, Frankie. Without you, this project never would’ve happened.”

The interviewer smiled at your exchange, clearly entertained. “The chemistry in Complex felt so real—especially between you and Vi. What was it like working so closely together?”

At the mention of her name, you hesitated for just a second—just long enough for Frankie to notice.

“Ah,” he teased, nudging you lightly, “now that’s a question.”

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus. “Vi is... incredible. She’s the kind of actress that makes you better just by being in the scene with you.”

The interviewer nodded eagerly. “And off-camera?”

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything—

“Why don’t you ask me that?”

Your breath caught.

Because there she was.

Vi strolled up beside you, effortlessly charming, effortlessly her—a lazy smirk playing at her lips, the sharp cut of her suit fitting her entirely too well.

And just like that, the entire world shrank down to her.

She stopped beside you, her hand instinctively finding your waist—like it belonged there. A gentle squeeze, warm and grounding, as she turned to answer the question.

“I’m wonderful to work with. Ask anyone, they’ll tell you.” She smirked, her tone playful, but you barely registered her words.

Because damn.

She looked stunning.

The open-back suit she wore left little to the imagination, her toned muscles on full display beneath the flashing lights. It wasn’t fair—nothing about her was fair.

Your focus shattered, your train of thought completely derailed.

The interviewer laughed, oblivious to the way your eyes shamelessly roamed over Vi. “And what about her?” she asked, motioning to you. “What was she like to work with?”

Vi tilted her head slightly, considering. Then, as if she hadn’t just ruined your ability to form a coherent sentence, she murmured

“She makes it easy.”

Your breath hitched.

She wasn’t looking at the interviewer. She was looking at you.

And you felt it—like a spark catching fire, like something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

After countless photos, interviews, and polite smiles, the entire cast finally made their way inside the theater for the screening. But Vi was still glued to you—her hand finding your waist, her fingers brushing against yours, her presence a constant, undeniable force.

So you did the only thing that made sense.

You grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the nearest bathroom.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Vi chuckled, but followed you without hesitation.

You pushed open the door, stepped inside, and locked it behind you.

Then you turned to her, frustration boiling over. “Okay,” you started, jabbing a finger into her chest, “I need you to be sohonest with me right now.”

Vi raised an amused brow but said nothing, letting you continue.

“Are you being serious or is this just for the movie?” You demanded, your heart racing. “Because I swear to God, Vi, you’re giving me serious mixed signals, and I don’t know if I’m being down-right delusional or—”

And she had the audacity to smirk at you.

That damn smirk. The one that made your stomach flip. The one made impossibly more infuriating by the bold red of her lipstick.

Vi took a step closer, slow and deliberate, her voice dropping into something almost dangerous.

“What if I am being serious?”

Your pulse skyrocketed. The air between you felt thick, charged with something that had been simmering for too long.

“Then we need to do something about it,” you said, inhaling sharply—your lungs burned like you had been holding your breath for weeks. “Because I’m tired of you joking around and then holding me like you want me, looking at me like that…”

Vi tilted her head slightly, her smirk softening into something real. Something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Like what?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Like you feel something,” you admitted, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “Like you want this as much as I do.”

She exhaled, long and slow, her fingers twitching at her sides—like she was holding herself back.

Then, so quietly it almost got lost in the space between you, she said, “I do.”

You barely had time to process it before her hands were on you, pulling you in, closing the distance in a way that left no room for uncertainty.

Her lips crashed into yours, and this time, there was nothing to hide behind. No cameras, no script, no excuses. Just her. Just you. And the way she kissed you like she had been waiting for this moment just as desperately as you had.

Your hands went straight to the opening of her suit, fingertips dragging down the exposed skin of her back, desperate, needing to hold her—to make sure she was real and not just another scene you’d have to pretend didn’t mean anything.

Your back hit the door you had locked only moments ago, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat pooling between you. Vi’s hands were everywhere—on your neck, slipping under the fabric of your dress, gripping the back of your thigh as she lifted it around her waist. The only sound in the bathroom was your breathless kisses, the rustling of clothes, the quiet hum of a moment neither of you wanted to end.

Until your phone started ringing.

You groaned against her lips, fumbling for the device in your purse without pulling away completely. Vi kissed down your neck, her lips never leaving your skin as you glanced down at the screen.

Mel’s name flashed on the display.

“Fuck,” you exhaled.

Vi huffed out a breath, her thumb brushing over your hip, her smirk returning. “You gonna get that?”

You hesitated. No, you really didn’t want to.

But Mel was persistent, and if you didn’t pick up, she’d probably barge into the bathroom herself.

With a groan, you answered, trying—and failing—to steady your breathing. “Mel—”

“Where the hell are you?” she hissed. “The movie is about to start! I swear to God, if you and Vi are off somewhere being unprofessional—”

You locked eyes with Vi, her smirk only growing.

“We’re coming” you said quickly, voice slightly breathless.

“You better.” And with that, Mel hung up.

Vi chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Guess we should go be professional, huh?”

You sighed, reluctantly letting her step back, already missing the warmth of her. But as you looked at her—lipstick smudged, pupils blown, her suit out of place from where your hands had been—you knew there was no more pretending.

Something had changed.

And this time, neither of you wanted to run from it.

──────────────────────

You fixed yourself as best as you could, smoothing out your dress, running your fingers through your hair, and dabbing at your lips to make sure they weren’t too swollen. But Vi—Vi was a mess. Her lipstick was completely gone, her eyeliner smudged just slightly at the edges, and the faint red marks on her back, stark against her skin, were impossible to ignore.

“Why did you wear this stupid suit?” you muttered under your breath, practically dragging her toward the theater.

Vi chuckled, completely unbothered. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

You shot her a glare, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

By the time you slipped inside, the room was dim, the screen displaying the production company logos as the final guests settled in their seats. You spotted Mel near the middle row and made a beeline for her, thanking God that Vander was still across the room, too deep in conversation with Frank to pay you or Vi any mind.

Mel barely spared you a glance as you slid into the seat beside her, Vi dropping into the one next to you. Then, without missing a beat, she leaned in and whisper-yelled, “Where were you? Actually—” she held up a hand before you could answer, “don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting back a smirk.

“Just sit down,” she sighed, adjusting in her seat. “You’re lucky Frank decided to give a speech before it started.”

Vi leaned in, just enough that only you could hear. “See? We are professionals.”

You rolled your eyes, but when her hand held yours on the armrest, when she shot you that look, like this was your little secret, you knew—tonight wasn’t just about the movie.

It was about you and her.

──────────────────────

masterlist

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane #vi arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #lily writes

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merchelsea · 10 months ago

Note

Hi hi

Can I request a Oscar Piastri sister reader x Lando

Maybe she's older than Oscar by a year and dating Lando, I want it to be angst with fluffy ending cus im a sucker for those 😭 either the reader and lando gets into a fight and they take a break and Oscar ends up being the middle person with a happy ending

Oscar didnt know his sister was dating Lando and she introduces Lando to her family as her bf and oscar's just hurt by how they didnt tell him in advance?? and he starts being petty and ignore them...but it also ends in a happy ending

Idk idk I'm good with any as long as it's angst fluff sorry this is long 😭😭 thank you as welllll <3

family matter — lando norris (+op81)

pairing: lando norris x fem!piastri!reader

summary: you introduced lando to your family, as your boyfriend, and your brother didn’t react as well as you hoped

autor’s note: you guys love a piastri sister x lando story. (well i love writing them so keep the requests coming!

word count: 2k

warnings: angst. sad oscar. swearing.

masterlist | requests

lando stood nervously on the passenger seat, while you drove to the restaurant. he didn’t need to say anything for you to realize how insanely nervous he was.

you told him tonight was the night you would let everyone know what he actually meant to you.

you had been dating for a month and some days, and not telling anyone was crazy, in your perspective. you knew everyone would support you, but you were still a little apprehensive. after all, lando was oscar’s teammate, and you didn’t want to make things at work difficult for neither of them.

it was a good opportunity today because your whole family agreed to go out for dinner after a good home race for oscar. lando got a podium, oscar got fourth place. it was good for the team and for both drivers.

even though there was some controversy.

once you told him, the british immediately panicked. your family loved him, and he was aware, but he couldn’t shake this uneasy feeling.

seeing him so tense, you decided it was better if you drove. you were not completely normal about this either, but you felt this was way easier for you.

as you got closer to the restaurant, you felt like you needed to, at least try to, calm him down.

“they already love you, lan. it’s not like us being together changes their opinion about you.” you looked over at him as you parked the car.

he simply nodded, kissing the back of your hand after holding on to it for a while. you stood in the car a little more.

“you’re right. let’s go.” he finally told you.

you both walked together up to the table. oscar had his back to you, so you hugged him from behind. other members of the family smiled at lando’s figure behind you as you kissed oscar’s cheeks.

“you brought lando?” your mother asked, a smile plastered on her lips as she walked over to hug the british.

“yeah… hm. i wanted to tell you guys, something…” you started, making every one face you except your brother, who you were still holding. “well, me and lando, we are together.” you slowly let go of oscar as he turned around, a serious expression on his face. “as a couple, boyfriend and girlfriend…” someone let out an excited noise and all you could see were smiley faces.

“finally!” your dad said from across the table, coming closer right after and hugging lando in his own way.

the driver was clearly nervous, but way better then before. a soft smile in his lips as he looked over at you.

you looked at oscar, trying to get a reaction out of him and he simply smiled, nodded and whispered a ‘congratulations’ to both of you, before turning around to eat again.

you sort of expected a better reaction from your brother, maybe an excited one, maybe a protective one.

the aussie looked like he didn’t care enough to give it a minute of attention.

maybe it was just because today was supposed to be about him, and you ruined it. maybe he wasn’t so pleased to have lando as a brother-in-law. maybe he was just tired because of the race.

you didn’t give it too much thinking, you moved to his right, sat next to him with lando by your side, and ate. making conversation with everyone around and looking over to lando from time to time, to make sure he was doing okay.

that night, you got home with lando and received an extremely good feedback from your family. they loved norris, and were delighted to have him as a part of the family.

oscar, who didn’t seem to be so pleased, never texted you. you noticed it and found it strange, but once again thought there could be other explanations to it. not just that he abhorred the idea of you two together.

some weeks passed away and you were now on lando’s driver room. sitting on the edge of the couch, caressing his hair.

norris knew you loved formula one more than almost everything, so he made sure to have you there in japan with him, since oscar had already gifted his own passes.

your boyfriend looked over at you with a concerned look.

“hey, baby, have you talked to oscar after we told him we were together?” he asked, playing with the zipper of his race suit.

“i don’t think so.” you stopped to think, and realized you hadn’t indeed talked to him. which was odd, as you were always glued to each other. “i think he’s been pretty busy.”

lando hummed and you looked down at his face. “why?” you asked, he shook his head while looking at you.

“nothing, love. it just looks like he’s avoiding me.” with half-closed eyes, you hummed.

after all, your theory might not be wrong. maybe oscar didn’t like the idea of you and lando as more than friends.

“i’ll try to talk to him, lan.” you bent down to kiss his forehead. “you have free practice in a few minutes, don’t worry about this. it will be okay.”

he sat up and hugged you.

“i love you.” he smiled against your neck.

“i love you too. good luck, baby.” you smiled back, feeling his lips on the sensitive skin. he eventually got up and left the room. you stayed back a little to get his laptop and notebook, for after the fp sessions.

lando had two shitty sessions, finishing 10th in one and 12th in the other. on the other hand, oscar managed to pull some really good laps, finishing 8th and 1st.

your boyfriend got out of the car and looked over at you to let you know he was okay, as that was always a preoccupation, and talked with his mechanics, giving them feedback about the car and what could be improved.

oscar did the same thing, not taking so long because there wasn’t really much that the mechanics could do on his car.

piastri’s feedback after the first free practice helped him realize that the problem was how long he took to brake on the corners. improving that, he made an incredible fp2.

“osc, good job.” you smiled at your brother as he passed by. the aussie simply nodded his head before going into his driver room.

you thought of following him immediately and get things cleared out, but maybe you should just wait for lando. this was about him too, after all.

your family wasn’t here yet, because, except for your father, none of them actually liked formula one. they liked that your brother was brilliant doing it, but they didn’t really know anything or cared about the sport. so they only came for the race. never even qualifying.

your dad watched them from home, not wanting to leave your mother alone with all the hosting responsibilities.

once norris was freed, he walked up to you and held you in his arms.

“you were distracted out there.” you stated. the british let out a frustrated sigh.

“i know… it’s just the oscar situation. he’s one of my closest friends in formula one. i don’t want him to hate me.” you chuclked, pulling the man closer to you.

“he doesn’t hate you.” you commented. “let’s talk to him.” lando’s eyes widened and he pulled back to try and see if you were serious.

“now?” he asked and you nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him though the garage until you reached oscar’s private room.

hearing a knock on his door, oscar ran to the door.

“hi?” he was confused with your presence. it wasn’t you he was waiting for.

“hey. i think we need to talk.” without asking for permission, you entered and dragged lando inside with you.

“we do, actually.” oscar states, closing the door and leaning against his table. lando took place on top of a balcony and you leaned against that same balcony, standing face to face with your big brother.

no one said anything for some seconds. trying to figure out what was the best way to start this important conversation.

“you guys should’ve told me.” oscar said, looking between the both of you. anyone who knew him could tell how hurt he was. his eyes reflecting it.

“we told you!” you remarked.

“yeah, after what? two months?” he sarcastically pointed out. “next time send me a letter, maybe it would be faster.” you rolled your eyes and lando stood still, understanding oscar’s side perfectly.

“this isn’t about you.” you said, lando touched your back gently, trying to calm you down.

“you are my sister, y/n! do you even know how much i care about this? you are my other half, the person i love the most in this whole entire world!” oscar’s voice rose a little as he spoke. “and lando, you are my friend! you both kept this from me and discarded me in the process. i was informed at the same time that auntie joannah was!”

you felt the urge to laugh at the mention of the old lady’s name, but kept your expression still. a little more saddened now that you were realizing just how big your mistake was.

“oscar…”

“no, y/n. let me finish.” he asked. you simply nodded, and he continued. his arms were crossed in front of his chest now and he had his race suit halfway down. “you have been distancing yourself and i have no idea of why. at first i thought you weren’t okay because of hate or how things were going with tennis, but you don’t seem very preoccupied with that, so i really don’t know.”

he takes a deep breath before speaking again. “i’m sure you had your reasons, but you’re my best friend, y/n, and constantly feeling like you don’t trust me anymore, or don’t consider me as you did before… it hurts.”

sadness embraces you as you listen to your brother. lando caresses your shoulder from behind you.

“maybe i should leave you two to talk, this is family matter.” the british suggests.

“you’re family.” both you and oscar say in unison. lando couldn’t help but feel his heart warm, smiling softly to himself as you think of some way to explain things to oscar.

“you know, i would have been your relationship’s biggest supporter if you had given me the chance.” oscar was the one to talk again, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. you needed to hug him, and so you did.

it was a clumsy hug, but it meant everything to you.

“i never meant to hurt you, osc.” you truthfully told him, feeling his grip tightening around you. “it was supposed to be a surprise…”

“what a fucking great way to do it.”

as you both hugged each other, lando watched from the balcony. he too was scared of losing oscar’s friendship, but he was sure that you would do the right thing, and sort things out.

“i never thought you would see this as a good thing. from the start, you and lando got along really really well, and i never wanted to get in the way of that, but i did not control it.” tears threatened to come out of your eyes at any time.

“when it happened, when we happened, i was terrified… but this was strong, i couldn’t stay away from him even if i tried. it was the kind of love you can not put down… and the idea seemed to be less and less terrifying.” you tried to explain. oscar payed close attention to every word you said, and lando, from the balcony, did the same thing.

it was the first time you opened up to someone other than your own figure in the mirror.

“and then i embraced this. this idea of being his, and then he asked me to be his girlfriend and i could never say no. i love him!”

you turn around to look at lando, who hugged his knees and smiled at you. oscar looked too and immediately realized that norris was the one for you. just by his eyes.

“but i still wasn’t prepared to tell you, because of every single devilish thought in my head. so i kept my distance because i know i wouldn’t be able to lie or hide anything from you. but i never, ever, stopped trusting you or considered you less.” you remarked. “you’re my osc, my big brother, you are my everything, and i’m sorry for not communicating.”

you could see in his eyes how hurt he was, and you hated to think it was all because of you.

“i’m sorry, oscar. i really am.”

“i like to know stuff. and i love you,” he pulls you into a real hug this time, allowing you to breathe freely again.

lando, who was still sat on the balcony, walked over towards you and stood next to you, watching the sibling moment with admiration in his eyes.

it was rare to find such a connection.

when you two pulled apart, lando finally broke his silence.

“hey, osco… i’m sorry too man. we both thought about surprising you, and i may have been a little more guilty than y/n there, because i didn’t want you to hate me for dating your sister.”

oscar smiled at the brit.

“i trust you with her, and i don’t hate you. but if you ever even think about hurting her...” lando nodded knowingly, and they touched hands.

“i would never. i really love her.” oscar pulled your boyfriend into a hug and you stood back, watching the two of them.

“i can see it.” oscar smiled as they pulled back.

lando ran his hand from behind your neck until he reached your shoulder, and pulled you close. he kissed the top of your head.

“i’m family now eh?” lando bragged and oscar rolled his eyes.

“don’t make me regret it.”

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thydungeongal · 2 months ago

Note

Asking w/ genuine curiosity cuz im not rlly into ttrpg at all, what is d&d responsible for in that sphere? Why does it suck or is it just bc thats the only game anyone plays? Thanks for answering if u do, well wishes!! 🫡💋

Very few of the issues with D&D's position have to do with the game itself, like even though I'm not personally all that enthused about the latest edition of the game D&D as a game spanning multiple different editions (some of which should be thought of as pretty much different games) is not, as far as I'm concerned, a Bad Game. The issues with D&D's monolithic position in the hobby are mostly ones of, as you say, it being the only thing many people play and that having an effect on people's perceptions on the hobby and games.

Many players don't want to branch out beyond D&D but since D&D is, by design, a somewhat limited game, a straightforward dungeon adventure game, many people who get into the hobby and like the idea of these games where you make up a bunch of made up characters and put them in made up situations will eventually end up wanting more. But instead of being told that there are other games that produce different types of narratives they get told that they can just hack D&D. Which is an insane proposition, because D&D is a game that has actual design behind it and while some of that design is questionable not all of it is there just by accident. And trying to apply those systems to other types of stories will not work.

But D&D's limited nature and specific scope also warps people's expectations of what RPGs as a medium can do. While D&D is, for better and for worse, the template around which most games model themselves, there are so many things that can be done in these games of shared imagination that simply get ignored because many people unwittingly transmit the assumptions of D&D into other games.

And at the end of the day the only one who benefits from this, the idea that D&D can be turned into any RPG with just enough modification and that D&D is the standard template of RPGs, is Wizards of the Coast, the company that owns D&D. It is absolutely detrimental to players and the wider hobby.

And this genuine incuriosity about games and the hobby also makes many D&D players just genuinely difficult to talk about games to, because once you have accepted that D&D, despite it's very specific and opinionated design, can do anything, there's really no conversation that can be had about what these games actually do and how game design can shape the stories these games produce. The problems with D&D have very little to do with the game itself because most people who play D&D will happily distance themselves from the game as a text.

To use a video game example: imagine if Doom was the biggest game on the market to the point where when someone asked for a farming game people wouldn't recommend Stardew Valley but a Doom total conversion mod that turns it into a farming game (but you still have the BFG), and people couldn't even imagine a game that isn't played from first person perspective and where you primarily shoot things. And people said that Doom belongs to the people, despite the fact that the larger ecosystem of Doom mods inevitably leads to sales for Bethesda.

#thydungeongal answers #dungeons and dragons

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andersonsgf · 2 months ago

Note

i LOVE modern roommate!abby 🥹

could we get more about them spending time together? like going to the gym, or abby becoming more interested in reader’s nerdy hobbies?

TYSM I LOVE YOUR WORKS 🫶🏾

modern roommate!abby

aa thank you im so glad youre enjoying it! very much enjoyed writing this series link

requests are still open for this series, and if anyone wants to be part of a taglist for it lmk :)

modern roommate!abby was a sucker for doing anything and everything with you. she needed to pick up some ingredients for tomorrow? she would definitely ask you to be a passenger princess for that five minute car ride, even if you were in your pyjamas already. sure, the fact that you two live together and date meant there was a tricky little line that hovered on codependency but it was managed well even with abby dragging you around everywhere. she'd go to mannys for the evening a couple of times a week, and you'd take yourself on little shopping walks around the city. it worked.

there were plenty of activities that you and modern roommate!abby had in common: going to the gym, hiking, late night drives, reading. fuck, you and abby had a lot of books. the equivalent of 'moving in together' was when you and abby combined your solo book collections into one big communal bookshelf. now that was commitment. working out together was abbys favourite thing though, the gym was definitely her happy place, where she felt most confident, felt the most at home in her skin. and you there too, practically drooling at watching her bench? that made her feel ten times more happy.

abbys pr for the bench press was 92.5 kilos, which you thought was simply fucking insane. what you thought was even more insane was that abby always asked you to spot her. of course you said yes, but you would always stare down at her whilst she did it with your nose scrunched knowing that you being the spotter meant a trip to the hospital for abby if she did fail her set. "you do realise that you're asking me to like... bicep curl or upright row 90 kilos if you fail, right?", you said to her one time as she sat up on the bench.

"i'm not gonna fail".

her attitude made you laugh a little, if she was going for new pr's then there could very well be a time where she can't finish the set. and you were supposed to be the thing between her and the barbell crushing her neck? "no but genuinely what happens if you can't get it up?".

abby snorted and stood up to take some of the weights off ready for your turn. "that's what she said".

"oh you are foul", you grumbled a little and lay on the bench, ready to do your lighter, yet respectable 30 kilo push. abby simply did that adorable shit eating grin in response before locking in when you started your sets. that 30 could still do a lot of damage if it dropped on your head.

modern roommate!abby earned more than you. it was a known fact. she had a full time job plus a second income from her rugby sponsors. you worked more than part time but not quite full time, enough to pay your half of the high seattle apartment rent prices, but still not enough to buy everything on your wishlists. which is where abby came in with her giant heart, and hungry eyes. gym clothes were expensive. and they were kind of non-negotiable, the cheaper gear never quite fit properly, always having weird baggy areas that you hated.

it didn't take long when you started dating for new gym sets to appear in your room, nicely folded with a piece of candy on top. she got them for you to see you smile, see how happy and confident you were in the gym when wearing clothes that felt comfortable and, in both of your opinions, made you look good. she also straight up just liked gawking at you in them though. you're her girlfriend, she finds you attractive, sue her.

she still vividly remembers the image of you in a new workout tank top she got you, watching you wear it on the assisted pull up machine, the muscles you'd been toning up on your back were a sight for sore eyes with that shirt. her cheeks had puffed out as she blew air out. man did she love working out with you.

that truly was secondary when it came to just being at the gym with you in general though. it really was just nice sharing that space with you, celebrating each others wins, pushing each other to do more even if your heart wasn't in it that day. she felt like she had her own little team. she really loved that team.

that being said, modern roommate!abby didn't really understand a lot of your other interests. she wasn't keen on video games at all. one of her mates back in college was obsessed with them. whitney always had her old psvita to hand and the incessant little noises that played from them grated her to no end. she could hear similar noises coming from your room a lot, you were an absolute fiend for playing games when you should be sleeping, or straight up playing them for 8 hours straight on a day off.

she didn't know what to expect with the genre of games you played. in all honesty they were kind of all the same to her. it took weeks to bring her around and get her to at least acknowledge that many games were vastly different. it then took another few weeks to get her to sit down and watch you play some games.

it was surprisingly successful. she still was adamant that she would never play any herself, but she enjoyed watching you. enjoyed watching you get excited at completing different things, levelling up, explaining story lore. she really got into some of the story games you played, looking genuinely shocked at the uncharted 4 twist, and she liked watching you swing around the open world new york in the spiderman games.

the first cozy game you showed her was spiritfarer. at first she was bored without the same action that story games had, but once again she was soon won over when she realised how great they were to play late at night. how it soon became satisfying to see the mini stories in the game progress, the little tasks you had to do, gathering resources. stanley ended up being her favourite spirit, claiming that she didn't "normally like mushroom themed things but he was an exception". you laughed at that one. abby was tough as nails but she was full of random bullshit like that.

then you whipped out the second "cozy" game. stardew valley. she looked more confused than ever when you pulled out your laptop too, pulling up a series of spreadsheets. "what the fuck is that for?".

she full belly laughed when you showed her your little pixel farm and explained that all the spreadsheets were for your farm efficiency and keeping track of pelican town relationships. "that's so much effort for what? virtual farming?". she was soon eating her words though when her eyes had practically gone square from intently watching you play for five hours straight into the early hours of the morning, half a litre of cola missing from the giant bottle in her hand.

you giggled slightly when finally finishing for the night as you had to basically drag her away from the sofa, reminding her about the morning training session she planned that she was now already tempted to skip to try and start her own farm.

you promised to buy a second controller for a co-op farm tomorrow.

#modern roommate!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou #abby anderson #modern au #headcanon

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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

Text

crazy little thing called love—ryomen sukuna.

Your jaw dropped. "Gold?" "Go big or go home, right?" He tilted his head, looking far too amused by your reaction. You scoffed, still trying to process how utterly ridiculous this conversation had become. "You do realize how insanely hard it is to even qualify for the Olympics, let alone win?" He shrugged, completely unfazed. "Yeah. So?" You rubbed your temples. "You really think you can pull that off?" "I know I can." he said simply. “I’m amazing. There’s no denying that, especially right now. But in the future? I know I’ll be a beast.”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Volleyball! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Baby, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Volleyball Pro! Sukuna, Astrophysicist! Reader, Fiancee! Sukuna, Fiancee! Reader;

Words: 8k words.

Note: people have been asking if there will be a part 2 where sukuna ends up proposing and i was thinking about how im going to do it because i want it to be fun and i want it to be as ridiculous as possible. and this is what i came up with. this is not the end for them, i think i will come by from time to time. i think i need to think about other stories too. in any case, i hope you enjoy this one!!! i love you all~

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

lovesick playlist

THIS WAS HOW YOUR MINI DATES WERE LIKE EVERY LATE AFTERNOON. And you were more than content with that. After all, you were both too busy to always meet outside of school. This is why you became a manager in the first place. You wanted more time with him as much as you could.

You knew that from the moment he became a part of the volleyball team. But sometimes, it was hard with him. In some ways, he had gotten so used to you being there that he doesn’t want to be without you whatsoever. He’s crazy about keeping his lover like that.

“My love, I’m going to go. I have to leave.”

“No, you’re not.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “My club manager duty is done. I have a life outside of watching you hit a ball over a net.”

Sukuna scoffed, arms crossed as he leaned lazily against the gym wall. “A life? What, you mean going home just to do the exact same thing you’d do if you stayed here? Reading your physics books?”

Your eye twitched. “That’s not the point. You know that.”

He smirked, stretching his arms overhead, the muscles in his shoulders flexing obnoxiously. “It kinda is, babe. No offense.”

The rhythmic sound of a volleyball bouncing against the polished court filled the empty gym. The night was quiet, save for the distant hum of cicadas outside and the occasional squeak of Sukuna’s shoes as he moved across the floor.

You knew exactly where this was going. Because it always went this way. You, attempting to leave. Sukuna, refusing to let you. It was routine at this point.

And you stay anyway, opening up your bag and taking your books and reading. And then taking his bag and then laying down on the benches, resting your head as you wait for him to finish.

You wanted to change that today.

At least you hope you can change it.

Your boyfriend is way too good at being clingy.

“I need to study, you know that.” you tried again, hands on your hips.

“So study here.” He shrugged. “You do it all the time.”

“I want to eat.”

“There’s snacks in my bag.” He huffs, taking the ball in his hand once again. “I got your favorites from the store.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And what if I want actual food?”

“Then we’ll go after practice.”

“Are you—”

“Yes, I’m paying.” He confirms to you, not even looking at you. “Why do you think I have a part time job?”

You inhaled sharply, weighing your options. On one hand, you could still leave. You could be strong for once and walk out that door like a free person.

On the other hand…It was true that you’d just end up studying at home anyway. And eating wasn’t really an issue since you’d just steal whatever food was within arm’s reach.

And if you were really being honest with yourself, staying meant spending just a little more time with him.…Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. And not that he would admit that as easily either. It was just the way it was for people as prideful as you both.

You sighed dramatically. “You are so needy.”

Sukuna grinned, already knowing he won. “You call me needy for wanting you here and yet, here you are. Not leaving.”

You shot him a glare but walked back to your usual spot on the gym bench anyway, pulling out your notes with a huff. You take his bag and pull it closer to you. You unzip it as carefully as you could, as to not look desperate, and take out the snacks he packed for you.

Sukuna laughed, turning back to the court. “You look cute when you pretend to be mad, babe.”

You picked up one of the balls and launched it at his head.

He dodges it really well, diving down onto the floor.

He snickers, looking at you with those mischievous eyes.

“You’re really helping me practice here, if anything, manager-san.”

“Get to practice before I actually leave, dumbass.”

And with that, he did, all the while he was grinning like an idiot the whole time. Meanwhile you then continued to slouch by the sidelines, legs stretched out in front of you, your back resting against the cool wall. You flipped another page of your physics book, fixing your reading glasses. You let out a yawn.

“I forgot you got reading glasses.” Your boyfriend whispers, as he stops to put away some of the balls blocking his way.

You didn’t bother looking up, lazily flipping to the next page of your textbook. “Well, yeah. I don’t wear them all the time.”

Sukuna huffed, rolling a volleyball toward the cart with his foot. “Still weird seeing you in them.”

You arched a brow, adjusting them on the bridge of your nose. “Why? I think I look distinguished.”

“More like a nerd, babe.” he teased, walking past you to grab another ball.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head. “Oh no, my boyfriend just called me a nerd. However will I recover from this devastating insult?”

Sukuna snorted, shooting you an amused look before getting back to practice. You returned to your book, the familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking and volleyballs hitting the floor filling the gym. The rhythmic thuds had become comforting at this point. It was a background noise you had grown so used to that silence would probably feel weird without it.

At some point, Sukuna jogged past you again, stopping just long enough to flick your glasses up your nose with his finger. You swatted at his hand. “Stop that.”

He smirked. “What? I think they’re cute now.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

He chuckled, going back to his drills, and you returned to your book, settling in for another night of studying while your ridiculously competitive boyfriend spiked volleyballs like his life depended on it.

"Do you ever think about the future?" you asked absentmindedly, setting aside your book. You lift your head watching as Sukuna spun the ball in his hands.

He scoffed, tossing it up lazily before catching it again. "What, like college and boring adult stuff?"

"Yeah, that. Or, I dunno… where we’ll be years from now." You say, putting away your reading glasses.

Sukuna’s smirk didn’t falter, but he paused just slightly, his fingers gripping the ball. "You mean whether I’ll go pro and become filthy rich while you settle for some dull-ass office job?"

You rolled your eyes. "That’s not what I meant, dumbass. I mean… what kind of lives we’ll lead. What kind of people we’ll become."

There was a beat of silence as he let your words settle. Then, as if dismissing any weight they carried, he sighed dramatically. "Ugh, don’t get all sentimental on me now, babe."

You huffed, throwing a stray piece of tape from the floor at him. "I’m serious, my love."

And for once, he looked at you. Really looked at you. Not with that usual cocky glint in his eyes, but with something more unreadable, more… thoughtful. But just as quickly as it came, the expression disappeared, replaced by a lopsided grin.

Without another word, Sukuna tossed the ball high into the air, stepped forward, and sent it flying over the net with a sharp, resounding spike. The force of it sent a slight gust of air your way, and as the ball slammed into the opposite court, he finally spoke.

"Well, I plan to marry you."

The words landed just as hard as the ball did.

Your breath hitched, your mind momentarily blank.

Your mouth opened, no words escaping from it.

"What?" You finally said, after a little while. “Are you serious?”

He turned, walking over to retrieve the ball as if he hadn’t just shattered the casual flow of the night. "You heard me."

You stared, trying to process the casual, almost nonchalant way he had just dropped that on you. "You can’t just—what the hell, my love? What do I say about that?"

He chuckled, tossing the ball up once before catching it again. "What? Not the answer you were expecting?"

"You—you don’t just say something like that after a spike!"

"Why not?" He smirked, tilting his head. "Figured I’d let you know my future plans, since you were so curious."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to let him see how flustered you were. Instead, you scoffed, crossing your arms. "You’re insane."

"And you’re stuck with me, you know that." he shot back, that grin never leaving his face. “I mean come on, babe. We’ve been together, what? Four years at this point?”

There was something about the way he said it. It was not just a teasing remark to him, but something firmer, something certain. It sent warmth creeping up your neck, and you hated how much his words lingered. You felt your face become insanely warm, red even as his words marinated even further.

“It’s a forever thing for me, babe.”

“You’re so—”

“Love you too, babe.” He grinned at you.

Your boyfriend Sukuna turned back to his practice, as if the conversation was already over. But for you… you knew this night would be playing in your mind for a long, long time. It was like every other new information from your physics book escaped your mind instantaneously.

The weight of Sukuna’s words still clung to the air, thick and undeniable. You tried to ignore the way your heart pounded, the way his declaration had knocked the breath from your lungs, but it was impossible. Your lips pursed into a tight line, still red in the face.

"You're insane," you muttered, shaking your head.

Sukuna only chuckled, tossing the ball up and catching it lazily. "Yeah? And?"

You exhaled sharply, standing up and stretching your arms, trying to regain some sense of normalcy. "You don’t just go around telling people you’re going to marry them out of nowhere."

His smirk widened. "I didn’t say people, though. I said you. It’s only going to be you."

You huffed, crossing your arms. You were pouting at this point. And Sukuna just found that too cute. "Oh, well, my mistake. That makes it so much better."

Sukuna spun the ball on his finger, his sharp eyes glinting mischievously. "Tell you what, babe." he started, voice laced with amusement. "Let’s make it a bet."

Your brows furrowed, wary. "...What kind of bet?"

He let the ball drop to the floor and stepped closer, standing just a little too close, his presence all-consuming. "I win a gold medal in the Olympics." His voice was smooth, deliberate. "And when I do, you’ll marry me."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

You stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the moment he’d burst out laughing and tell you he was messing with you. But he didn’t. His expression was unreadable, teasing but also impossibly serious.

"Ryomen Sukuna, do you even hear yourself?" You threw your hands up. "Winning a medal in the Olympics is not some casual thing you can just—"

“Hey, hey. My name is my love, we will correct that right now.” He cuts in almost too smoothly. “And second, it’s not going to just be a medal. It’s going to be a gold medal. And first try!”

Your jaw dropped. "Gold?"

"Go big or go home, right?" He tilted his head, looking far too amused by your reaction.

You scoffed, still trying to process how utterly ridiculous this conversation had become. "You do realize how insanely hard it is to even qualify for the Olympics, let alone win?"

He shrugged, completely unfazed. "Yeah. So?"

You rubbed your temples. "You really think you can pull that off?"

"I know I can." he said simply. “I’m amazing. There’s no denying that, especially right now. But in the future? I know I’ll be a beast.”

And the thing is, you do believe him. You believe in everything he does, in everything he is. Ryomen Sukuna isn’t just some overconfident athlete running his mouth. You know that his words aren’t just meaningless bravado thrown into the air for the sake of arrogance.

No, everything he says, everything he sets his mind to, he backs up with raw, undeniable talent and relentless hard work. He’s never been the type to say things he doesn’t mean. If Sukuna said he was going to win, he was going to win. If he said he was going to be the best, he would make it happen.

And if he said he was going to marry you, it's not just words.

It’s his promise, one that he plans to fulfill no matter what.

Well, you didn’t stand a chance against that will, did you?

His confidence wasn’t just arrogance. You know that much. It was the kind of unwavering certainty that could only belong to someone who was born to be great. The kind of person who wasn’t just meant to exist but to leave a mark so deep on the world that people would still be talking about him years down the line.

He was the type of person who set his sights on the impossible and made it real. That’s why, even when he said something absurd, something reckless and unbelievable…..You still believed him. Because he was Ryomen Sukuna. And Ryomen Sukuna never lost.

But still, it was the Olympics.

It was still something that was so far away.

Things could change from all that time.

"You’re making this sound like a joke, aren’t you?" you muttered, more to yourself than him.

He scoffed. "I don’t joke about things I actually want. You would know that best, babe."

Your breath caught. He was right about that. And you knew it. But there was something about the way he said it. There was no teasing lilt, no cocky edge. Just raw certainty. Just raw confidence. Endless bravado, endless affection. You could see it in his eyes.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus. "Fine, fine." you said, crossing your arms. "If….and that’s a huge if—you actually win gold, I’ll consider it."

Sukuna smirked. "Not good enough for me."

You rolled your eyes. "I’m not just gonna say yes to marrying you based on a bet."

"Then say yes because it’s me." He whispers to you, his eyes warmed with tender love. Tender love just for you. “Say yes because you love him.

Your heart skipped a beat.

The heat on your face triples.

Damn him, damn his smooth words.

He must’ve noticed the way you faltered because his grin widened. "C’mon, babe. Don’t be so serious about it, huh?" he coaxed. "Where’s your sense of fun?"

"This isn’t fun, it’s absolutely crazy." you shot back.

"And yet, you still haven’t said no."

You hated that he had a point, and hated how he knew you so well. He grins as you, watching your pout grow even more prevalent. You glared at him, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck.

"Fine." you relented, sighing heavily. "If somehow, you actually win an Olympic gold medal, then I’ll marry you, Ryomen Sukuna."

Sukuna’s smirk deepened, victorious. "Good. Promise sealed. No backing out now, okay?"

"But don’t get cocky!" you warned, pointing a finger at him. "It’s not gonna be easy, and I highly doubt—"

"You might as well start planning the wedding now, babe." he cut in, already walking back to his side of the court. “I mean, it’s going to happen no matter what.”

You groaned, sinking back onto the bleachers, head in your hands. What the hell did you just agree to? Why did it feel like a bad deal on your part? You sighed as you fixed your position, springing up from your slump.

You really should have read the fine print before agreeing to this. Maybe ask your boyfriend to make a contract about this. Because now, as Sukuna continued spiking balls with that obnoxiously smug grin on his face, you found yourself staring at the court, your mind spiraling into an entirely new crisis.

“Wait, wait.” Your eyes narrowed. “What if you end up winning in the Olympics when you’re 18 or 19?”

Sukuna paused, ball in hand, and turned to you with a slow, knowing smirk. “Well, babe….” he said, spinning the ball lazily on his finger. “You know what happens.”

Your stomach dropped. “No. Ryomen Sukuna!”

“Yes.” He whistles back to you. “And that’s not my name, you know that.”

“Sukuna, that’s way too soon—”

“Too bad! You already agreed!” He pointed at you accusingly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That’s a verbal contract, sweetheart. Legally binding!”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Oh my god.”

Sukuna just chuckled, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. “Not my fault you underestimated me.”

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Oh, I underestimated you? You’re the one planning an Olympic medal-to-marriage speedrun!”

He shrugged, unfazed. “And?”

You gaped at him. “And!? My love, that is just…..You—You’re seriously okay with getting married as a teenager?”

“I mean, yeah. I was ready to bet my life on you when we were even younger. Why not?” He cocked his head, looking at you like you were the crazy one. “If I win early, I win early. Not my problem.”

“It is your problem!” You waved your hands around in exasperation. “You’d be legally stuck with me at a stupidly young age! What if you regret it? What if I regret it? What if we get sick of each other?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Babe, I’ve been dealing with you for years. If I was gonna get sick of you, it would’ve happened already.”

You sputtered. “Dealing with me?! Excuse you! I should be the one questioning whether I want to deal with you for the rest of my life!”

He grinned, walking toward you with slow, confident strides. “Then don’t agree to stupid bets.”

You pointed a finger at him, almost so childishly. “You tricked me into this!”

He leaned down, resting his hands on the bench on either side of you, caging you in. “I didn’t trick you, babe.” he murmured, tilting his head. “I just made sure you didn’t say no.”

You blinked up at him, cheeks heating. Damn it. This was so unfair. How was he effortlessly cool and stupidly attractive even when talking about something as ridiculous as marrying you as a teenager? Sukuna smirked knowingly, clearly enjoying your flustered silence.

You swallowed, gathering yourself. “Still, my love….” you muttered, looking away. “You don’t even know when you’ll win.”

“Maybe so.” he admitted, standing up straight again. “But I will win. And when I do, you better have your dress ready.”

You stared at him, completely exasperated. “Oh my god, I hate you.”

He grinned. “Love you too, fiancée.”

You grabbed your physics book and whacked him with it.

Unfortunately, that didn’t wipe the smug look off his face.

If anything, the grin just grew wider than ever before.

YOU ENDED UP IN LOS ANGELES 2028, YOUR BOYFRIEND ON THE COURT IN HIS JAPAN TEAM UNIFORM. The deafening roar of the stadium echoed around you, a symphony of cheers and chants, many cameras echoing into a hail of flashes, and the pounding bass of the match music.

Bright lights shone down on the Olympic volleyball court, illuminating the players lined up for the final set. Each one a figure carved out of sweat, grit, and years of relentless training. But out of all of them, your eyes locked onto just one.

Vice Captain Gojo Satoru stood in the center of Japan’s national team, his white hair slightly damp with sweat, his uniform clinging to his lean frame. Even from the stands, you could see the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, his ever-present arrogance radiating off of him like a damn spotlight.

His blue eyes, sharp and glittering under the stadium lights, flickered toward Captain Ryomen Sukuna. Sukuna stood tall at the net, his scarlet eyes narrowing as he rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing beneath his jersey. There was no smirk on his lips, no taunts thrown across the court like Gojo was clearly ready to dish out.

No, Sukuna was locked in. Focused, deadly, hungry. And across from him, standing with equal intensity, was the French National Volleyball Team.It was an even match, a battle of the titans, an Olympic final that had already left the world breathless.

Outside Hitter Megumi Fushiguro took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling steadily despite the sweat dripping down his face. He had been playing a hell of a game, his spikes cutting through the French team’s defenses like a blade. But there was no denying the exhaustion creeping into his stance, no matter how fiercely he tried to shake it off.

Middle Blocker Itadori Yuuji moved forward, cracking his knuckles as he bounced on his feet, a grin still plastered on his face despite the pressure. His energy was boundless, as always, but you knew he could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

This was it.

The final set.

One more for the win.

One more push, one more kill, one more moment of sheer brilliance. And they would either walk away with gold, or with the regret of coming so close and falling just short. You swallowed, hands gripping your knees as you leaned forward in your seat, barely aware of how tightly you were clenching your fists.

And then, in the middle of the tension, Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but grin. “Hey, Captain!”

“Huh? What do you want, Gojo?”

"Don’t choke, Captain!" he teased, just loud enough for you to hear over the roaring crowd.

Sukuna didn’t even blink. He just smirked, the look in his eyes dark and dangerous. "Just make sure you’re still standing when I spike the last point over your head."

The referee blew the whistle.

The ball was tossed into the air.

And the final set began.

Down on the bleachers, everyone was just holding their breath. Including you, who was just tense. Quantum Physicist Geto Suguru was sitting way too comfortably in their VIP seats, arms crossed, expression unreadable as he lazily popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth. He looks at you, offering you a snack. But you couldn’t help but shake your head.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, not even looking at you.

You huffed. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because, isn’t this quite a moment?” Geto drawled, turning to face you. “Your fiancé is one point away from winning an Olympic gold medal.”

You glared at him. “He’s not my fiancé.”

He smirked. “He might as well be at this point. How long has Sukuna been bragging about it?”

“He still has to win the medal, you know.”

“Well, just one more set here, senpai.” Geto’s purple eyes echoed mischief. “You’ll see then.”

Beside Geto, your heart was pounding so hard you swore it was trying to break free from your chest. And through all the roaring cheers, the flashing cameras, and the tension thick enough to choke you—Sukuna’s voice echoed in your head, as clear as if he was sitting right next to you.

"If I win a gold medal in the Olympics, you have to marry me."

You could still hear the smugness dripping from his voice. The absolute certainty behind his words, as if he had never once considered the possibility of losing.

At the time, you had laughed. You had rolled your eyes, told him he was being ridiculous, brushed it off as just another one of his arrogant declarations.

But here you were, sitting front and center, watching the final match of the Olympics unfold right in front of you. And because the universe loved to mess with you, your boyfriend was about to win a gold medal.

Suguru nudged you, his voice low and far too amused for the situation. “If you run now, I’ll cover for you.”

You scoffed, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “That’s tempting.”

Before he could respond, the stadium’s announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, shaking the very air around you. “Japan is at match point!”

The crowd roared, the energy in the arena reaching its peak. You watched as the opposing team served the ball, the rally hitting fast and aggressive. The players diving, blocking, setting, all fighting for the final point. Then, like clockwork, you saw it.

The perfect setup. You hadn’t seen anything like it. The ball went up, and just like you knew he would, Sukuna moved fast and jumped, soaring higher than anyone else on the court. His body twisted midair, his form effortless, his presence commanding. And then, it happened.

CRASH.

The ball slammed onto the opposing team’s side with terrifying precision. The whistle blew. The crowd exploded. Japan had won. After waiting for so long, there was finally a win for the country. And Sukuna led it.

Geto Suguru went up and started to cheer out loud.

But you just sat there. You had lost the bet once and for all.

The stadium was chaotic. Cameras flashed, confetti rained down, and the entire team tackled Sukuna in celebration. Geto stretched his arms behind his head, grinning. “Welp. That’s that.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m going to throw myself off this balcony.”

“I’d pay to see that, senpai.”

You kicked his leg. “You’re so annoying.”

Suguru let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat like he was watching the most entertaining drama of the decade. “Well….” he mused, smirking. “Guess I should start looking for wedding gifts.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Shut up, Geto Suguru.”

He patted your back, mock sympathy lacing his voice. “You really should’ve negotiated better terms.”

You sighed. You really should have. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Oh, senpai, on the contrary—I’m just telling you when you can tell yourself that with the future of time travel.”

You kicked his leg again.

He just laughed at your response.

You purse your lips into a flat line.

Your entire soul had left your body.

The crowd was still screaming and celebrating, the commentators were probably losing their minds on live television, and yet none of it mattered right now. Primarily because Ryomen Sukuna was coming straight for you.

He cut through the chaos like a man on a mission, stepping over confetti and shoving past reporters with the kind of single-minded determination that should have terrified you.

He ignored his teammates still caught in their celebration, ignored Gojo, who was literally trying to climb him like an overexcited golden retriever, and ignored the cameras tracking his every move.

Because all he cared about right now was you.

Suguru, still lounging next to you like he wasn’t witnessing your impending doom, let out a thoughtful hum. “Y’know, this would be a really good time to run, senpai.”

The medal ceremony happened about twenty minutes later, but honestly?

You could barely process the repercussions of all of this.

You still could not handle the fact that the bet was lost.

The stadium was still in chaos, electric with the high of victory. The Japanese national team stood in a sharp line on the podium, sweat still glistening on their skin, their jerseys slightly wrinkled from the celebration. The gold medals around their necks shone under the stadium lights, reflecting the sheer magnitude of their win.

Sukuna stood front and center, because of course he did. He looked completely in his element, standing there with his arms crossed, his uniform slightly loose around his broad shoulders. His scarlet eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and undeniable smugness.

The smirk tugging at his lips practically screamed, Yeah, I won. And yeah, I know exactly what that means.

Your stomach dropped.

Because you knew what it meant, too.

Your fate has been sealed with the win.

Twenty minutes. That’s how long you had to process the reality of your situation. That’s how long you had to sit there in the stands, listening to Geto’s barely contained cackling beside you while he kept glancing between you and Sukuna like this was the best entertainment he’d seen in years.

And, because the universe hated you, the moment the ceremony ended, Sukuna moved. Your breath hitched as he walked off the podium, cutting through the crowd like a man on a mission. People were cheering, cameras were still flashing, but none of it mattered because he was heading straight for you.

Oh, no. You knew that look. The second his scarlet eyes locked onto yours, something deep in your gut twisted. He’s not letting you get away, not right now. Not when his life long dreams came true at the same time.

“Well…..” Geto sighed beside you, stretching out his arms like he had all the time in the world. “Guess this is it for you.”

You glared at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

He grinned. “Oh, I am. That’s why I’m enjoying this.”

Before you could respond, Sukuna reached the barrier separating the court from the stands. The crowd reacted immediately, voices rising in curiosity, in anticipation because this….This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t something athletes did after winning a gold medal.

And yet, Sukuna didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the top of the barrier and vaulted over it. Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t a damn obstacle at all. The gasps were instant, reporters scrambling to follow, the stadium cameras swerving to capture the moment.

“Oh my god, what the fuck?” you whispered, panic rising in your throat. “He’s coming.”

Geto, utterly unbothered, nodded sagely. “Yeah, I’d start running now.”

Your body froze in your seat, unable to move at all. Because Ryomen Sukuna was scaling the stands with ridiculous ease, weaving past rows of spectators, his eyes never leaving yours. Your pulse skyrocketed almost instantly.

You gritted your teeth. “If I run, do you think he’ll chase me?”

Suguru snorted. “Oh, absolutely. And then he’ll catch you. Man’s an Olympian now.”

Your heart was pounding against your chest. Because he was right. You were so doomed. Then, before you could even react, Ryomen Sukuna vaulted over the barrier like it was nothing. You gasped at that, mouthing him to be careful with a panicked look.

Security barely had time to register what was happening before he leapt onto the stands, scaling them with ridiculous ease. People gasped and pointed, cameras flashed like fireworks, but you barely processed it because he was getting closer.

Suguru let out a low whistle. “Damn. He’s really coming for you.”

You shot him a glare. “You think?”

And all of a sudden, Sukuna was there. Still slightly out of breath, sweat-drenched, and absolutely radiating victory, he loomed over you with an expression that was both smug and dangerous.

Your body is locked up. For a moment, neither of you said anything. He twirled the Olympic gold medal between his fingers and smirked down at you.

“So, babe….” he drawled with a grin on his face. “Do you wanna pick the wedding venue, or should I?”

Suguru made a choking sound beside you. “Oh, my god.”

You froze in your place, still staring at him. Every neuron in your brain short-circuited. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be serious. You never expected this moment to happen whatsoever. He urges you to take the medal. But then you nearly fell on the side.

“Woah, careful there, babe.”

“My love, I….This is….”Your voice was barely above a whisper, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. “We are literally in a stadium. The cameras are still on you—”

“And?” he shrugged, smug as ever. “A deal’s a deal, babe. Verbal agreements matter too, you know.”

You wanted to die at this moment.

You were so red and flustered.

Suguru, meanwhile, was thriving.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever witnessed, oh my god.” he sighed dreamily, already reaching for his phone. “I need to record this for future generations.”

You smacked his arm. “Suguru, I swear to god—”

Sukuna crouched in front of you, his eyes gleaming with something softer beneath all that cocky bravado. He dangled the gold medal in front of you, letting the gold glint under the bright stadium lights. “You remember our deal, don’t you?”

Your breath caught. Because of course you did. He had said it years ago. So easily, so confidently, like he had already decided how your future would go.

"If I win a gold medal in the Olympics, you have to marry me." He smiled at you, so warmly, so full of love. “And that’s happened now…..So….”

At the time, you had laughed. Brushed it off.

Thought, there’s no way that would happen just yet.

But here you were, sitting front and center—and he had won.

On his first try, nonetheless.

You exhaled sharply. “I hate you.”

He laughed, that deep, victorious laugh of his. “Nah. You love me.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand tenderly with a wide happy grin on his face. Your breath hitched as he placed the medal in your palm, his fingers brushing against yours, warm and solid.

“Hold onto that for me, babe.” he murmured, voice dipping into something dangerously tender.

Your stomach flipped. “What?”

He reached into his pocket.

And your entire existence imploded.

Because between his fingers was a ring.

Not just any ring. It was stupidly elegant, clearly custom-made, and so undeniably you that it knocked the air from your lungs. The band was sleek and sophisticated, refined yet unassuming. It was something you could wear every day without it getting in the way. But the real kick? The centerpiece.

A gemstone, deep and endless, like the cosmos itself.

It wasn’t a traditional diamond. Of course it wasn’t.

Because Ryomen Sukuna knew you all too well.

You didn’t do anything ordinary, and he knew that.

No, what sat on that band was a star sapphire. It was a deep, burning ruby red, almost black under certain lights, with a radiant six-rayed star shimmering across its surface. A star captured in stone. Your own piece of the universe. And somehow, it was functional too. Because, of course, he thought of that.

The design was subtle, but you recognized it immediately. The band had fine etchings, equations so minuscule they were nearly invisible. But you knew them. Orbital mechanics, gravitational constants, the formulae you used daily in your astrophysics work.

Your throat closed up. “My love, you are so…..”

You felt Geto go still beside you, all traces of laughter gone. The crowd noise faded into a dull hum, the stadium, the cameras, the flashing lights.

All of it blurred into the background. Because Sukuna had designed this for you. Not just a ring. It was a promise. A piece of your entire world. Your world now interwoven into his, for all your lives.

Your vision blurred, overwhelming emotion just taking over you at this moment. You swallowed thickly, lips parting, but no words came out. Sukuna, smirking but softer than you’d ever seen him, twirled the ring between his fingers.

“I figured you’d want something practical.” he murmured, voice lower now, quieter, like this moment was just for you. “Can’t have you taking it off every time you work.”

You stared at him, stared at the ring, at the undeniable thought put into every detail. Your hands trembled. He noticed, he always does. Smirk widening, because of course he noticed—he reached for your hand, effortlessly lacing his fingers through yours.

“Babe.” he teased, his voice so infuriatingly smug. “Are you crying?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, heart slamming against your ribs.

“No.” you mouthed, obviously lying.

Geto snorted. “You absolutely are.”

You kicked him once again.

But your gaze never left Sukuna.Your stupid, cocky, unstoppable lover. Your future husband. A laugh, one which was helpless and disbelieving and overwhelmingly in love, escaped your lips almost instantaneously.

“I hate you so much.” you whispered.

His grip on your hand tightened, his smirk turning into something so devastatingly fond. “No, you don’t.” he murmured.

And ugh.

You really didn’t.

You never will.

You love him too much.

Sukuna, so unbothered, tilted his head. “Well? I’m cramping here, babe.”

Your entire soul felt like it had left your body. This wasn’t happening. There was no way this was actually happening. But it was. Because of course it was.

You forced yourself to look back at him. Slowly, hesitantly. And there he was right in front of you, hopeful, tenderly. Lovingly. He continued to wait there, patiently.

Like he already knew your answer.

Like he had always known.

Like he had never doubted it.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. You groaned softly, dropping your head into your hands, as if shielding yourself from the sheer magnitude of this moment would somehow make it less real.

(And of course, it didn’t.)

He just grinned back at you.

Smug. Triumphant. Unshakable.

Because this was his win. His victory lap.

You inhaled sharply, hands trembling, throat tight. Your vision blurred, your breath hitched, and despite everything. This ridiculous bet, the years of teasing, the absurdity of this entire moment. It was then where you nodded.

The movement was small, almost imperceptible at first, but then you exhaled and did it again. Much firmer this time, the emotion swelling so overwhelmingly in your chest that it nearly knocked you over. And then, voice cracking, eyes glistening, you let that word come out.

“Yes.”

The world just exploded. The stadium erupted into chaos. Cheers, screams, a deafening roar of noise as people realized what had just happened.

Confetti still rained from above like rain drops falling down, camera flashes went in wild abandon, and somewhere in the distance, Geto whooped so loudly you were sure he’d lose his voice tomorrow.

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t move. For a moment, he just looked at you, really looked at you. Like he was memorizing the way you said it, the way you looked at him when you did. He grinned. Bigger. Wilder. Brighter.

Without hesitation, he reached for your hand, your trembling hand, and slid the ring onto your finger, firm and decisive. Like it had always belonged there. Like you had always belonged to him.

Then, with zero shame and zero warning, Ryomen Sukuna grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you right into his arms. Into him. Into home. Into this crazy little thing called love.

“I love you.” You whispered to him. “So so much.”

He smiled at you, pulling you even closer. “I love you too.”

epilogue

You had spent years earning your place among some of the brightest minds in astrophysics. Late nights spent poring over research, heated debates about black holes and dark matter, and an almost unholy amount of coffee had gotten you here.

You had co-authored the many papers that go through these doors, papers which pushed the boundaries of human understanding, worked on groundbreaking discoveries, and stood at the forefront of space exploration here in the office.

But, of course, that’s not always what goes on in the office.

Sometimes, it was pure chaos that comes and goes.

And today, unsurprisingly, was one of those days.

“So when’s the wedding, Mrs. Olympic Champion?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples as your lab partner, Hana, grinned at you from across the break room. “Not you too, Hana.” you muttered, slumping into your chair.

“Are you kidding?” Hana leaned forward, her mischievous smile widening. “Our very own genius astrophysicist is engaged to the Ryomen Sukuna—Olympic gold medalist, international volleyball star, walking menace and not to mention, hot? Of course I’m going to be all over this.”

A few of your other colleagues perked up at that, their heads turning toward you. Kenji snickers. “Wait, are we talking about senpai’s engagement right now?”

You shake your head as you take a sip of your coffee. “Guys, seriously. This is not a big deal.”

“Oh, right!” one of the postdocs, Ren, chimed in. “I saw the proposal clip online. He really did it right there in the stadium, huh?”

“International and domestic television, no less!” another added, whistling. “That’s insane.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I hate all of you.”

Hana ignored you, her eyes glinting with amusement. “So, how does it feel knowing that your fiancé made the entire world witnessed your suffering?”

“Like I lost a bet I didn’t know I agreed to.” you grumbled.

Ren snorted. “Well, to be fair, you did agree to it.”

“I was a teenager!”

“Yeah, but he won, didn’t he?”

You groaned, dropping your forehead onto your desk as laughter erupted around you. “I hate all of you.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be shy, senpai!” one of your colleagues, Haruki, teased, leaning against your desk with a knowing smirk. “You’re engaged to Japan’s golden boy. Quite literally. The whole world knows.”

“Yeah.” Kenji chimed in, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You’ve been on, like, every news site. And Twitter. And TikTok. You’re basically an international event at this point.”

You peeked up from your desk, groaning. “I didn’t ask for it to be a national event.”

Hana gasped dramatically, gripping your wrist to examine the ring Sukuna had so proudly placed on your finger. “Okay, but look at this rock.”

“It’s a beautiful rock, yes.”

She turned your hand from side to side, making the light catch on the diamond. “You could blind someone with this thing.”

Kenji whistled. “He really spent a lot of money on this, didn’t he? This is an expensive sort of build. Didn’t you say that he went and got this specially made at a lab? Insane.”

“But it’s still blinding!” Haruki says from the other side of the room.

“I wish it would blind you with it!” you muttered, pulling your hand away as another round of laughter rippled through the office.

Kenji smirked. “Bet you’re regretting that ‘at least he’s rich’ comment now, huh?”

You froze at them. Your head snapped up. “How do you know about that?!”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s everywhere.” Hana drawled, pulling out her phone and flipping it around to show a very viral clip of Sukuna’s post-win interview.

There he was. He was grinning like the smuggest man alive, draped in his gold medal, bragging about how you totally proposed to him first. You could feel how your soul left your body as you continued to go through these pictures.

Kenji snickered. “You are never living that down.”

You covered your face with your hands. “I hate him more than I hate you guys.”

“Aw, that’s cute.” Hana cooed. “Saying you hate your fiancé instead of saying you love him. You guys have such a colorful language of love!”

“Shut up—”

BANG.

The office door slammed open.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

You didn’t even have to look.

Because there, standing in the doorway in all his Olympic glory, was none other than your personal menace—Ryomen Sukuna, standing ever so proudly as though knowing very well that he’s Japan’s volleyball hero and number one reason you were being relentlessly teased at work.

And judging by the absolute smirk on his face?

He knew exactly what he was doing.

You shake your head at him.

“My love.” you deadpanned. “What are you doing here?”

He waltzed in like he owned the place, sunglasses perched on his nose, hands shoved into his pockets, the picture of cocky confidence. “Visiting my fiancée, obviously.”

A chorus of gasps and ooohs followed.

You wanted to die almost instantly.

You will never live this down more than anything else.

Kenji leaned back in his chair, looking way too amused. “So it is true? You two have been together since high school?”

“Middle school, actually.” Sukuna shrugged, sauntering over to your desk.

“How about the proposal?” Haruki comes around and asks. “Was that middle school too?”

“No, that was my last year of highschool. But I was always serious. She was just in denial about it ever happening.”

“But how about the post-win proposal?” Hana asked, a smile on her face.

“That was—”

You shot him a glare. “You ambushed me with a ring minutes after winning the Olympics.”

“And you still said yes, babe.” he said smugly, reaching out to tug your chair closer so you were practically against him. “Isn’t that the truth?”

Your colleagues were eating this up.

You could feel a headache coming on.

They’re going to be all too great friends here.

“God, this is better than TV, you guys!” Hana whispered.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “My love, I’m working.”

He grinned, clearly unbothered. “And I’m being a supportive fiancé.”

Kenji chuckled. “By interrupting her work?”

Sukuna shrugged. “Hey, I let her do her stuff about stars and galaxies and whatever science stuff she does all the time even when I was practicing and doing something else. I think I deserve some attention.”

“You get too much attention, if we’re being honest here.” you muttered.

He ignored you completely. “So, anyway, when are you guys throwing her an engagement party?”

Hana beamed. “Finally! Someone with real priorities!”

You gasped in betrayal. “Hana!”

Kenji smirked. “Honestly, it’s the least we can do for our future Olympic WAG.”

You froze. “What? What the fuck is that?”

Hana grinned. “You do know what that means, right?”

“Oh my god, don’t—”

“Wife And Girlfriend of an Athlete.” she said sweetly. “You’re officially a WAG now.”

You stared at her, mortified. “I have a PhD. I’m going to remain a doctor, thank you very much.”

Sukuna cackled. “And now you also have a husband—or you will soon.” He draped an arm around you, pressing a ridiculously loud kiss to your temple just to make things worse. “Though are we hyphenating our names or are you just taking mine?”

“Clearly hyphenating, I was the one who earned my degrees.” You pointed out to him and then your face scrunched. “Hold on, why are we talking about this right now?”

“Hey, it was a fair question, babe. Didn’t know it yet.”

“We could talk about that at home!”

Kenji snorted. “Guess we’ll have to change your office nameplate soon. Dr. WAG.”

Hana wiped a fake tear from her eye. “Dr. WAG sounds so powerful.”

Haruki, the ever-opportunist, grinned as he leaned lazily against your desk. “I’m sure the director would be more than willing to pitch in for that. Maybe even make it gold-plated, in honor of our Olympic champion.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto your desk again. “I hate all of you.”

Sukuna, who was enjoying this way too much, smirked and tugged your chair closer, effortlessly wrapping his arms around you from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, his voice a teasing purr.

“Aw, babe, don’t worry.” he cooed, ever the menace. “At least I’m rich.”

You whipped around to glare at him, but he was already grinning down at you, looking so damn pleased with himself. And then, he winked. Winked hard and charming. Like he was the smoothest man alive. You kicked him under the desk. Hard.

He hissed, jerking his leg away. “Oi—”

“Shut up, Ryomen.”

“Ugh—that ain’t my name! Say it properly!”

Hana gasped dramatically. “Marital conflict already?”

Kenji shook his head. “Tragic.”

Haruki sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. “And they were such a promising couple.”

You threw crumpled paper at them, earning a laugh from them. Sukuna, having recovered, was laughing way too hard against your shoulder. And despite all the teasing, all the chaos, and the endless insufferable smugness that came with being engaged to him, you wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Kenji smirked. “So, Mrs. Olympic Champion, when’s the wedding?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. Ask him.”

“What about me?”

You jerked a thumb at Sukuna, who was still latched onto you like a koala. “When’s the wedding?”

Sukuna, ever unbothered, simply hummed. “Whenever she stops pretending she doesn’t want to marry me.”

Hana gasped. “Oh my God. You’re the one dragging your feet?”

You groaned. “I am not dragging my feet.”

“She’s in denial, still.” Sukuna stage-whispered to them, a teasing tone lacing his words. “But don’t worry, I’ll get her to the altar. One way or another.”

Kenji snorted. “Damn, you really did bag an Olympic gold medalist and a menace.”

Hana sighed wistfully. “Goals.”

Haruki grinned. “I give it two months before she caves.”

Sukuna smirked. “I’ll take that bet.”

You turned to him, incredulous. “Are you seriously betting on our wedding date?”

He grinned. “You know I love a good bet, babe.”

Hana leaned forward eagerly. “Okay, but what’s the wager?”

Sukuna thought for a moment. “If I win, she has to let me pick the honeymoon destination.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And if I win?”

His smirk widened. “Then you get to pretend you had a choice in marrying me.”

You kicked him under the desk again, mockingly smiling.

Hana, Kenji, and Haruki howled with laughter.