#uno is next week

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Three Gays and a Mermaid EP 17: Curse

[torra-and-the-toons]

Ok, I’ve been thinking about this request for a while, but have been putting it off.

Could you do a drawing based off the episode L.O.C.K.D.O.W.N? It’s one of my favorites and the vampire designs are generally cool and deserve more attention!

Anyway, enjoy 😋

I'll be honest, the Vampires weird me out but only because of the spanking aspect (and the fact they had to spank a grown man to change back like excuse me??) Their designs are cool as hell though. If they existed without the spanking aspect, they wouldn't weird me out as much.

This might not be quite what you had in mind, but one of my coworkers told me a funny pun that I thought I could use for this very request.

I like to think it's the real reason they were so determined to change back lmao.

[ijustthinkevilunoisneat]

[blueberry-beanie]

"heartbreak" make me a *checks notes*... halfway decent journalist?

[myjunkisyuzuruhanyu]

Watching skating competitions and remembering Shoma will only start his competitive season in November???!!!!! 💀😭😭😭😭

I miss Shoma and his skating 🥺🥺🥺

Love to watch skating but the interest is not the same without him out there...

I guess my interest awakes when I see skating live next week at Nebelhorn Trophy...it's always a different feeling live in the arena 😌

[doberbutts]

I've told this story before but the non-negotiable in allyship really reminded me of my gaming group. So one of my best friends is a twin and while I know *her* pretty well I don't really know her brother as well despite knowing him for roughly same length of time. We play videogames together and her brother asked to join us so at some point I took him aside and had The Talk with him because we at that point had a recently out trans fem within the group and she had just barely started hormones and hadn't done any voice training etc so I fully intended to head any trouble off at the pass.

So I basically had the "respect my friend's pronouns or die by my sword" discussion because while he knows I'm a trans guy and had so far been chill, I didn't know if that extended to all trans people.

What I did not expect was for him to pull an uno reverse on me and invite his two trans woman friends to game with us as well and did a "no no, *you* respect *my* friends' pronouns or die by *my* sword".

When I was working at Petco, one of my coworkers came to me having a total panic and anxiety meltdown and when I finally got them to tell me what was going on, the revealed they had sought me out because they were having Transgender Feelings and wanted advice. I ended up giving them my old binders that were too small for me but a perfect fit for them, and one of my roommates gave them their first masc haircut.

A few weeks later a customer speaking Spanish was saying many nasty things about my coworker and reacting with disgust. Another coworker- a cis gay man who speaks fluent Spanish- came to get me first so I could pull the other coworker away while he effectively cussed them out in Spanish. He told us the sparknotes version of the English translation and it was mostly horrifically transphobic drivel. My coworker had responded mostly neutrally to me being trans, but for him to be visibly steamed the rest of the day over my other coworker definitely bumped my respect for him.

And I've talked about how a cis lesbian friend of mine visibly bristles at anyone she even thinks is being shitty to me about being trans to the point of making them splutter and back down.

A cishet woman I am only sort of acquaintances with once caught me wincing at being she/her'd at a trial and asked if that had been happening all day. When I responded the affirmative, she stormed off and I didn't see her the rest of the day. The next day, any time anyone referred to me there was an audible pause before a deliberate choice to choose masc versions.

Another trans woman who is a friend of mine once beat up a bully for calling her trans boyfriend a heshe when they were in schooling together.

It's about holding the line. It's about making the active choice to show up for each other. And it's about linking hands and refusing to budge.

If you cannot hold the line with me by your side, then we are not moving together.

[main-midas]

Man it’s so fucked up how family game night turns you into a terrible person. I bought a deck of uno and after the night was over I was sitting at the table like this.

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

Say my Name and Everything Just Stops

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts!reader

Summary: If Bob and you were only platonic, absolutely no other feelings… Then why do you feel sick to your stomach when he looks at her like that?

WC: 3.K

*Might have to remake this with more specifics to the song because I added the song after writing it because it lowkey fit the storyline a bit*

⸻

You weren’t sure when it happened.

One day, you were just another warm body at a mission briefing, nodding through tactical discussions, biting your tongue through Alexei’s grating pep talks and Valentia’s obligatory press training. You showed up, suited up, cleaned up, and tried not to get killed. That was the job. That was the team.

Then, somehow, somewhere along the line… you and Bob Reynolds got attached at the hip.

Not officially. Not romantically. Not even consciously, really. You didn’t talk about it. There were no glances across the room filled with meaning, no loaded conversations behind closed doors. It was never dramatic.

It was something quieter. Subtler. Like gravity.

If you were in the kitchen making coffee in the morning, hair tied back, hoodie halfway off your shoulder, still trying to blink the sleep from your eyes, Bob was always there, standing beside you like he’d been summoned. Making tea. Or at least pretending to. Half the time his mug stayed empty, forgotten on the counter while he hovered behind you, offering sugar before you even asked, or opening the fridge before you could.

He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t even particularly expressive. But he was there. His presence made the sterile, metal and glass Tower kitchen feel less like a military bunker and more like home. It was in the little things. The way he shifted when you reached past him. The way he knew how you liked your coffee and made sure no one else drank from your favorite mug. The way he stood just close enough that you could feel his heat at your back.

Game nights made it worse.

Or better, depending on who you asked.

Every week, like clockwork, someone would suggest it usually Alexei or Yelena, high on boredom and low on impulse control. Uno, Jenga, some Russian board game that none of you understood but that Alexei insisted was “better than Monopoly.”

No matter the game, no matter the teams, somehow you and Bob always ended up on the same side. It wasn’t on purpose. No one assigned you to him. It just… happened. You’d be sitting on opposite couches, and by the time the game began, you’d be side by side. Synced up. Aligned.

Charades became a blood sport. You and Bob didn’t even need words. One raised eyebrow from you, and he was guessing the entire plot of The Matrix. He mimed a single motion, and you blurted out Jaws before anyone else even understood it was a movie.

“I don’t even know how they’re communicating,” John muttered one night, tossing a card at Bucky. “They didn’t say a word. Are they cheating? They’re probably cheating.”

“Y/N and Bob have their own frequency,” Ava mumbled from the corner, arms folded but the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth.

Then came the promo events.

Photoshoots. Talk shows. Those absurd staged press moments where Valentina shoved you all into matching black tactical gear and called it “branding.”

You and Bob migrated toward each other like it was coded into your DNA. Unconscious. Effortless.

Cameras flashed and you were already beside him your shoulder brushing his arm, his hand resting just near the small of your back, not touching, but almost. Always almost. And somehow, no matter how stiff or awkward he looked beside the rest of the team, when he stood next to you, Bob’s shoulders loosened just enough. His eyes softened. His lips curved, barely.

Protective. Steady. Yours.

That’s how it felt.

And still, you told yourself it wasn’t anything.

Just comfort. Just familiarity.

But at night when the compound dimmed, and the war room was dark, and the wind whispered against the windows you started to hear it.

The softest knock. A pause. Then the door creaking open.

He never needed to ask.

He stepped inside like he didn’t want to make a sound, curls still damp from a rushed shower, wearing the same old hoodie that hung loose on his tall frame. Sometimes he’d say your name like a question. Most nights, he just climbed into your bed with a sigh so deep it curled in your chest.

He never reached for you. Not at first.

He just drifted closer, closer until his forehead was resting on your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin, his body folding around you like ivy.

And you’d always find your fingers in his hair. Threading, soothing, grounding. Like they were meant to be there. Like you’d done it a thousand times.

He always fell asleep that way. The Sentry. The most powerful being on Earth. Curled up around you, clinging to the quiet, tucked in by your heartbeat.

And you thought you were subtle. You thought it was private.

You thought no one knew.

Until the night John Walker walked in.

You’d been half asleep, humming something soft while combing your fingers through Bob’s tangled curls. He was a deadweight against you, long limbs twisted around yours, chest rising in the steady rhythm of someone deep, deep asleep.

The door slammed open.

“Y/N! You gotta see the new tech—I finished the—”

He froze.

You cracked an eye open.

Bob didn’t even stir.

And John… just stood there, blinking. Processing. His mouth opened and closed twice before he backed out like he’d walked in on a hostage negotiation.

“…I’ll come back later,” he muttered, nearly tripping over your laundry basket on the way out.

That was the end of the secret.

The next morning at breakfast, the teasing came with knives.

Yelena leaned across the table with a smug little grin. “So… Bob. Y/N. How long has the co-sleeping initiative been active?”

You choked on your coffee. Nearly died.

Bob flushed so red his ears matched his hoodie.

Ava didn’t even try to hide her smirk. “Please. We’ve all seen it. They’re like cats. Always draped over each other. It’s gross. It’s adorable. I hate it.”

“Just don’t bring it on the jet,” John muttered into his eggs. “Some of us like to fly without PDA-induced nausea.”

You didn’t answer. Neither did Bob.

You didn’t have to.

It wasn’t like that, you told yourself.

It was just Bob. It was just you.

But when your eyes met across the kitchen when his hand brushed yours reaching for the honey, and his fingertips lingered just a little longer than necessary, you wondered if maybe it wasn’t just anything.

Maybe it was everything.

And you’d just been too scared to name it.

⸻

Until the charity gala.

You’d pulled out all the stops.

The gown was custom silk that hugged every curve like it was made for you (because it was), with a low, sloping back that shimmered under the chandelier light like molten metal. The color was blood-red, deliberate. You wore it with graceful confidence . Your hair was swept into soft waves that kissed your collarbones. And your eyes, lined lit with something vulnerable and electric, scanned the ballroom for one person.

Bob Reynolds.

He arrived late.

Tugging awkwardly at the cuffs of a tailored suit that fit too well for how uncomfortable he looked in it. Hair combed, clean shaven, tall as hell and radiating nervous energy. You turned the moment he walked in.

He stopped in the doorway when he saw you.

And for the briefest second, everything else in the glittering, champagne soaked ballroom dimmed. His eyes locked on yours across the crowd and something passed between you. Something that hit you low in the chest, unspoken and sharp. You almost smiled.

But then he looked away.

Fast. Like it burned. And he didn’t approach. Not even close. In fact, every time you started to drift toward his side of the room, champagne in hand, casual and hopeful he moved. Ducking away under the guise of conversation or needing air. It was obvious. Painfully so. He was avoiding you.

By the time everyone was seated and smiling for cameras at the table, your chest ached from it.

Had you misunderstood everything?

The closeness, the late nights, the way he always reached for you without thinking, was that just friendship? Just comfort? Had you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole team?

And then came the woman.

An older socialite, jeweled and charming, grabbed Bob by the elbow with a too-knowing smile. She gestured to a girl in satin blue, pretty, long-limbed, her laugh high and flirtatious. Bob looked panicked for a split second. Then he smiled. Small. Polite. He let the woman lead him away.

From across the ballroom, you watched.

The girl touched his arm. He leaned in to hear her. Laughed at something she said. All the alcohol he downed making his eye contact extremely well, didn’t matter that he looked a little stiff. A little out of place. From where you were standing, it looked like he could love her.

And it broke you.

You didn’t say goodbye. Just slipped your clutch under your arm and moved. Valentina caught your elbow at the door.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even spoken to—”

“I don’t feel well,” you said, voice brittle.

“Y/N—”

But you were already gone.

⸻

The Tower was silent when you returned.

You didn’t turn on the lights. Didn’t go to your room. Just stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the roof like muscle memory.

The city stretched below you in a haze of gold and glass. Cold wind bit at your shoulders through the fabric of your dress, but you didn’t care. You needed the air. The silence. The distance from the noise in your head.

Why had he avoided you? Did you look bad? Did he regret all those nights he spent in your bed not with you, but beside you? Holding onto you like you were his only anchor?

You blinked hard against the tears stinging your lashes.

Don’t cry. Don’t be stupid. You’re not sixteen.

The door creaked behind you.

You didn’t move. But your heart knew.

Bob.

He stepped out slow, breath ragged, suit jacket flapping slightly in the wind. His tie was crooked. His hair was messy. He looked like he’d been running.

“You left,” he said quietly, almost breathless.

“I did,” you murmured, arms crossed against the chill.

“I couldn’t find you.”

“I saw you,” you replied, voice sharper than you meant. “You were busy.”

A pause.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“I’m not stupid,” you snapped. “She was gorgeous. Polished. Exactly the kind of girl a mother would want for her son-in-law.”

He flinched. “That’s not what I want.”

“No?” You turned now, eyes shining in the low rooftop light. “Because you looked like you were having a great time. Like you were relieved not to be around me.”

“I was avoiding you.”

That stopped you cold.

“I know.”

Bob took a step closer, then another. “You walked into that room and I forgot how to breathe. You were… radiant. Like something out of a dream I wasn’t supposed to be having. And all I could think was, Don’t ruin this. Don’t touch her. Don’t make it weird. So I panicked.”

You stared, wind whipping your hair around your face.

“You avoided me because I looked nice?”

“I avoided you,” he said, stepping right into your space, “because if I didn’t, I was going to tell you I loved you. In front of Valentina. And three senators. And six photographers.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He laughed, but it was soft. Raw.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Y/N. I can’t think straight when you’re near me. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep unless I’m next to you. You touch me just, like, hand on my arm or fingers in my hair and the world goes quiet. You make me feel like I’m not broken.”

“Bob…” you whispered, tears threatening again.

He took your hands gently. “I don’t know when it happened. I just know I’m in love with you. And if I messed this up tonight… I’m sorry. But I had to tell you.”

You let out a laugh. Choked and wet and unbelieving.

“You idiot,” you said, pressing your forehead to his. “You beautiful, stupid, sweet idiot. I’ve been in love with you since the first time you handed me coffee without asking how I take it.”

His breath hitched. “You have?”

“Obviously.”

The kiss came easy.

Soft, like first light. Like every moment between you had been leading to this, every brush of hands, every shared blanket, every look across the table when no one else was watching. He cupped your face like it was sacred. You buried your hands in his curls like they belonged there. Because they did.

The city sparkled below. And in the quiet, with the wind, and the stars above, the noise finally stopped.

⸻

You woke up in his arms the next morning. Again.

Only this time, your lipstick was smudged on his jaw. His tie was still on your bedroom floor. And when Bucky walked in to grab the TV remote, he paused at the sight of you two curled up, a sleepy smile tugging at his mouth.

“About damn time,” he muttered, shutting the door again.

Neither of you moved.

You were too busy holding onto everything you’d been scared to lose.

—

A/N: PLEASE I NEED MORE IDEAS OR LIKE SONGS TO WRITE THINGS BASED OFF 💔

[crossbackpoke-check]

LIV YOUR LEAFS EDITS ARE AMAZING. *cries*

me (with consent) to you^^^

thank you so much!! 🥹🥹💕💕🥰🥰 i’m happy to contribute to our thriving hockey poetry ecosystem

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Uno and chill - H.HJ

Hi, guys! I'm back from an intense week. I missed writing 😢 So this is my present for you all. I have so many things planned, can't wait to share 💜

Thank you @jehhskz for asking me to write this fic. It's always a pleasure to be delulu with you 🫶🏻

Warnings: smut, dom! Hyunjin, possessive! Hyujin (but it's not too rough cause he's still my cutie hyunie 🤏🏻)

Word count: 1.7k

Part 2

Alexa, play Escape by Hyunjin & Bang Chan

Hyunjin was already on the edge, sweat clinging to his neck, fingers curled around the mic as he squinted past the blinding stage lights.

Then, he stopped and grinned. “What is that?”, he laughed, pointing toward the crowd— a sign, handwritten in red ink. Your sign:

1. You take me to your hotel room so we can play uno

2. You come to my place so I can destroy you in Just Dance (respectfully)

The fans around you screamed as he approached that end of the stage . But Hyunjin just smirked, and raised a single finger. “One”, he mouthed, with a wink.

You nearly died, not expecting anything else. It was just fanservice, you got that. So when a staff member tapped your shoulder at the end of the concert, whispering, “Please come with me. He’s waiting”. Well, you were sure you died and ended up in Heaven.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

You sat on the hotel couch, knees bouncing, heart beating like crazy. Then the door opened and Hyunjin walked in— bare faced, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, no shirt under it. He never looked more stunning.

“Oh my God…”, you muttered. “Hi”, he said, grinning, “So... uno, huh?”. You smiled, holding up the cards you always carried around in case of boredom. “Yeah, are you ready to be…”, but he didn’t let you finish. He just leaned in fast, one hand cupped your jaw, and suddenly his lips were about to crash into yours.

You pulled back, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the heck, bro?! I meant actual Uno??”. Hyunjin blinked, blood rushed to his face, “Wait… what?! I thought ‘uno’ was like... a code. Like Netflix and chill”. You burst into laughter, a bit horrified, “No!! I literally just wanted to kick your ass in Uno”.

He leaned on the couch, groaning, hand covering his face, “I’m so embarrassed! Oh my god” “Well”, you said, shuffling the cards with a grin, “You still wanna play?”. He looked at you, with that typical mischievous spark in his eyes, “Yeah… let’s play”.

ㅤ

Mid game, you were two wins in and getting cocky. Hyunjin narrowed his eyes, a smirk on the corner of his lips, “Okay. Let’s make it interesting. If you win the next round, I’ll… dance Escape. All the body rolls just for you to see”, he said wiggling his eyebrows. “But”, he added, “If I win… you kiss me. For real this time”.

You paused, fingers hovering over your cards. His voice was low, but it still had a teasing tone. Hyunjin leaned back on the couch, stretching his long legs out, one arm slung lazily over the backrest. His eyes were on you— a piercing gaze like he was looking through you, like he already knew how this was going to end. Like he’d already planned it three turns ahead.

“Escape, you said?”, you raised an eyebrow, “Are you feeling that confident?”. He shrugged, “I’m very good with my hips”. That made your stomach flip and judging by his smirk, he knew it. Biting your lip, you agreed, “Deal”.

The round started chaotic. You both played aggressively, slamming cards down, stacking +2s, skipping turns, changing colors, like it was a real war. You were good at Uno. And he was hot. Which made your mind conflicted. Still, you stayed focused, one card left, tension thick between you both. “Uno”, you said confidently. Hyunjin’s smile twitched, “We’ll see”.

He played a reverse. Then a skip. And then, without breaking eye contact, he dropped a wild card and changed the color to blue. You stared at your last card— red. “Shit”, Hyunjin laughed, as you groaned and picked up another card.

He took his time and played one more, then another, the rhythm slowing like he was savoring it. He leaned in as he placed his final card down after saying ‘Uno’, “I win”. You narrowed your eyes, “You cheated” “Impossible”, he shrugged, “You said you were good. I believed you. Even offered my body rolls” "I didn’t even get to play, you menace!". But he just kept smirking.

So, you sighed, leaning back dramatically, “Fine. A deal’s a deal”. Hyunjin didn’t say a word. He just shifted closer, eyes locked on your mouth, “Come here”, he said quietly.

You leaned in. He placed one hand on your neck, pulling you closer. The kiss was slow and controlled. Like he was savoring every second. His lips moved like they already knew yours, and when his tongue brushed against yours, you sighed softly into his mouth. He was so addictive.

Then he kissed deeper, fingers sliding up tugging gently at your hair, pulling you even closer until you were straddling his lap, breathless, flushed.

He pulled away just enough to whisper against your mouth, “The moment I saw you... couldn’t stop thinking about you”. You whimpered when his mouth found your neck, hot and wet and desperate, “Hyun…” “Shh”, he growled, lifting you easily in his arms. “Let me show you what I wanted all night”.

The bed was cold when he laid you down like you were something precious, then climbed over you slowly, his hoodie falling from his shoulders, revealing the perfect lines of his toned arms. He pressed a kiss to your neck. Then your collarbones and sternum, “You’re so fucking pretty”, he whispered, “I could look at you for hours.”

His hands slipped beneath your shirt— warm palms against your skin, pushing the fabric up until he could toss it aside. He stared, breath getting heavier, then dipped his head to kiss between your breasts.

When he got you completely bare, he sat back on his heels for a second, eyes scanning over every inch of you, “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me”, he muttered. “Fuck, I don’t want anyone else to ever touch you”.

His hands pinned your hips gently as he dragged his lips down your stomach, then lower. He took his time giving slow, wet kisses on your inner thighs, ears capturing every soft sound escaping you with every move of his tongue. And when he finally came back to your lips and slid into you— you felt completely consumed.

You cried out, hands gripping his back. “You feel so good”, he groaned, hips grinding into you in deep strokes, “Fuck, this pussy was made for me”. You gasped at the words, clenching around him, and he felt it.

Smirking, Hyunjin wrapped a hand lightly around your throat. Not too tight, just enough to make your head spin. His thumb dragged up your bottom lip, “Open”. You obeyed, without questioning. He pushed his thumb into your mouth, “Suck”. You closed your lips around him, and he groaned, hips shifting forward like it turned him on more than he expected. “That’s it”, he murmured, watching your lips wrapped around his thumb, eyes heavy with lust. “God, look at you. So obedient”.

What he said had an immediate effect on you, making your hips move involuntarily to meet his. He smirked, slowing the pace of his thrusts. “You like that?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”. He lightly bit your earlobe, making you whimper, “M-more f-faster, p-please”.

He smirked again, “Only if you promise me that now you're only mine, no one else will ever touch you again, only me. Do you understand me?”. You nodded, barely able to speak. Your body was trembling, almost hitting the edge, and he knew it, “No, no, baby. Say it. With words”.

“Yes… fuck. Yes, no one else ever again, only you” “That’s it. Good girl”. Then, he sped up, fucking into you with long, hard thrusts, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room.

“Hyunjin…”, you gasped. “Come for me”, he said, voice rough and low, “I want to feel you falling apart”

You shattered around him, breath caught in your throat, seeing stars behind your eyes. Your legs trembled as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release until he spilled into you with a moan that bordered on despair.

“Fuck” he groaned, collapsing beside you. “That was…”. You didn’t say anything, you were still trying to catch your breath.

Afterward, you were laying together, tangled in his arms when suddenly, he reached into the hoodie on the floor and pulled out a Uno card— a wild card.

“I cheated”, he said with a smirk. “this card was yours, had it hidden on my sleeve the whole time”, he confessed, cocky as ever.

You threw a pillow at him, “You little…!”. He caught the pillow midair and tossed it back at your chest, “And you loved every second of it”.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤ

The next morning, the hotel room was quiet. Hyunjin was still asleep, tangled in the sheets. His lips were parted, one arm stretched across your side of the bed like he’d tried to reach for you in his dreams.

You moved carefully, slowly slipping out from under the covers. Your legs ached from last night in the best way possible.

You found your clothes, but your hand paused on the hoodie he’d been wearing the night before. Oversized, soft and smelled like him.

You slipped into it without thinking. Then, you walked over to the coffee table, grabbed a pen from the hotel notepad, and reached for the Uno card he stole from you.

You flipped it over and wrote on the back in messy handwriting:

‘Rematch?’

Reaching for your purse, you grabbed a red lipstick. And left a kiss right under the note.

Then you tucked it under his phone on the nightstand. But before leaving, you glanced back at him one last time— still asleep. You walked towards the bed and planted a soft kiss on his lips, staining it red. And finally slipped out the door, hoodie sleeves covering your hands, heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Later, when Hyunjin blinked awake, the first thing he noticed was that the bed was colder. The second, that his hoodie was gone.

And the third— the card.

He picked it up slowly, reading the message. A smile playing on his lips. Then a soft, low chuckle escaped him, “Of course… She knows how to play dirty too”.

He leaned back against the pillows and ran his fingers over his lips out of habit, staining his fingertips red. Hyunjin chuckled, somehow he still could feel your kiss still lingering on his mouth.

He knew this wasn’t over yet.

Did you notice the H.HJ in the title?? Does that mean more members fics coming soon?? 👀 Stay tuned to find out

If you enjoyed it, please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

[snail-day]

You got this, Nerdjo!

Part One // Next Part // Masterlist

Gojo Satoru was not stalking you. He just happened to be standing in the board games aisle of the popular bookstore near campus. At the same time you were. For the third time this week. Total coincidence. Really. He was just hear for an expansion pack. For Dice. Okay maybe he is here for you. He's been thinking about you since the moment he saw you checking out the Gundam section last week. Really. He wanted to give you his opinion but...he didn't want to seem like a total dick. A mansplainer of sorts.

Oh god, there you are again. Picking up a game. Oh you look so focused. So beautiful. So smart. Wait, is that - oh no. Not that one.

You were reaching for a notoriously convoluted board game, one even Redditors have many complaints about, and before he could stop himself, his feet were moving. Mouth was moving. Everything was moving except his common sense.

Okay, Satoru. Tap the shoulder. Speak. Be your usual charming self. It's just a girl. A very pretty girl. Say something. Be normal.

He tapped your shoulder. Lightly. You turned to look at him with the kind of expression one might give to a stranger who had absolutely no business tapping them in a bookstore. Which, honestly, he didn't have the business to do. Then cleared his throat - loudly, awkwardly - and blurted out:

"Ireallydontthinkyoushouldpickupthatgametherulesaredifficultactuallytherulesdon'tevenmakesenseImeanwhoevencameupwiththem - "

Oh my god. Oh my god. Did I just say that out loud? What did I just say?

First, your brows knit together slowly as you blinked, turning towards him with a touch of confusion and offense on your face.

“You don’t think I can understand… the rules?”

Shitshitshit

His heart dropped straight to his ass.

Going to throw up. Going to throw up. Going to throw up.

How am I fumbling this bad?

He could practically see the social bar above his head draining to zero. As your very pretty, bright eyes stared up at him. He wondered just where did you get those eyes from? His future mother-in-law or father-in-law? Wait no don't be fucking weird.

“No, oh god no! I didn’t mean - uh, that’s not - I think you could totally get it! I mean, you probably solve logic puzzles for fun! You look like you’re really good at thinking! Wait, not that you look like a nerd, but - uh - like, in a hot way - shit, no, I mean - "

End me. Just smite me down right here between Settlers of Catan and Uno.

Waving his hands now, panicking in real time. You, somehow composed, just turned the game box over and calmly read the back, letting him spiral like a dying Beyblade.

“I just meant - it’s a bad game,” he added weakly. “Like, the win condition is unclear and the rulebook has typos and there’s no official errata - it's just, um… bad design.”

You finally looked back up at him. “So what game would you recommend?”

For a second, Gojo just stood there.

You're still talking to me. Oh god. Oh no. You, beautiful and stunning, want my opinion. My professional opinion. I can’t screw this up

“S-Splendor,” Satoru blurted, voice cracking at the edges. “Or maybe Wingspan? No wait. Cascadia? Or - do you like deck-building mechanics? I could make a whole list. I actually have a spreadsheet. A whole reddit. ”

You absolute loser.

But you were… smiling. Just a little. And nodding like you were genuinely interested.

Gojo, poor nerd Gojo, practically short-circuited on the spot.

You ended up leaving the store with a board game you didn’t plan on buying. Not because of the game, really. But because the tall, twitchy, white-haired guy with far too much enthusiasm had somehow roped you into a monologue about probability mechanics, game balance, and “that one time my friend Nanami rage quit a co-op dungeon crawl.”

He was… weird. But kind of charming. In a feral raccoon digging through your trash for affection kind of way.

“So, uh,” he said, hovering beside you outside the store, practically bouncing on his heels, “if you ever want to, y’know, play a game or something - like, totally casually, not like, a date, unless you want it to be, which - no pressure - uh - I just thought maybe you’d be into - um…”

He trailed off. Heart thundering. Couldn't even ask Reddit for Advice You stared. He swallowed. Blinking rapidly, those pretty-blues darted anywhere but you.

“…I run a D&D campaign,” Satoru said suddenly. “Every Friday night. Very low-commitment! Very chill! High-level story arcs. I made all the NPCs. I do voices. I - it’s cool. I swear.”

What are you doing what are you DOING you weren’t supposed to tell them about the campaign yet they’ll think you’re weird this is why you don’t have a girlfriend Satoru you idiot -

But you smiled. Then handed him your phone - little charm dangling off the case. Something cute. You probably picked out without a second thought. God, he’d kill to have matching phone charms with you.

“…Add your number,” you said. “Text me the details.”

He blinked at the phone, questioning how he is worthy enough to text you. Then promptly fumbled it, typed his name with three emojis, deleted them, re-added one, panicked, backspaced everything, and tried again.

You mentioned you had class.

Right. You're busy. That's fine. Yes. He has your number. Oh god why is his heart pounding so loud. Can you hear it? Could you feel it when his hand brushed against yours?

Satoru nodded too fast. Rushed words as you trailed away with a wave. He was left there wondering what your major was. Who you knew. If you'd actually show up next Friday. If he’d just imagined all of this.

When he finally texted you later, it read:

Hey it’s Gojo from the bookstore 🧠 I asked my party and there’s a spot open in the campaign 👀 you’d be perfect. Unless you hate fun. Then we can just play Wingspan lol anyway let me know!! pls 🥺

And before you could even respond, another message came in.

also pls ignore any typos i'm at the gym 💪getting ready for all those monsters we're going to be slayin ⚔️

Friday night. Gojo’s apartment. He had cleaned. Like, deep cleaned. Scrubbed corners no one would ever look at. Decorated the bathroom. Lit a candle that smelled like vanilla and cedar. (He may or may not have spent an hour on Reddit reading forums titled “What candle scents make girls fall in love with you?” and this one had the best upvotes.)

He had set the scene. Maps unfurled like ancient scrolls of destiny. Dice sets lined up in a neat little rainbow offering to the gods of chance. Snacks meticulously arranged in what was supposed to be a dragon shape, though now it looked like a pile with tiny wings. Still. It was the thought that counted.

Everything was ready.

You're coming. Oh god. You're really coming. You're gonna sit here. With me. Maybe next to me. Or maybe not. No - no, no, you can sit next to Shoko. Or Nanami. Shit. What if you like Nanami? Oh my god, what if you like Nanami and not me? He’s got that broody thing.

He paced.

Screw it. Just play my campaign. Laugh at my jokes. Please. Just - please think I’m cool. Just once. Please don’t see through how desperate I am.

He adjusted his glasses. Then adjusted them again. Re-checked his rulebooks even though he wrote half the notes inside them himself. He’d already rehearsed your character’s intro fifteen times. But he did it again.

“…and as the tavern door creaks open, a figure steps through the mist. Cloaked in shadows, yet - no. No, too dramatic. They’ll think I’m trying too hard. Which I am, but like, subtle. Okay. Again - ”

His voice cracked mid-practice. He flopped down into his DM chair, then stood up again two seconds later, muttering, “Nope, can’t sit. Gonna combust.”

They’re gonna be here soon. They’re gonna walk through that door and I’m gonna die. Literally die. Headlines: Local Dungeon Master Dies When Pretty Person Shows Up.

The doorbell buzzed. Satoru physically jolted. Then stood there frozen in front of the door, hands out like he was about to catch a falling star. Or a live grenade.

Okay. Okay. It’s fine. Just breathe. Be normal. Don’t say anything weird. Don't tell them about the custom soundtrack you made for their backstory. Don't confess anything emotionally compromising in the first five minutes.

He opened the door. A stupid smile formed on his face.

Is he blushing? Please don't be blushing. Oh no. They’re even cuter than I remembered. I’m so screwed.

Wearing the coziest hoodie. Carrying a dice bag. Smiling. Beside you - because of course - was Geto Suguru. Satoru’s longtime friend. Fellow player. Tall. Cool. Calm. Hair tied back in a lazy bun that somehow made him hotter. That bastard. Satoru barely had time to panic before you laughed at something Geto said. A soft, amused laugh that curled around Gojo’s ribs and squeezed.

Then it happened. You looked at Geto. Blushed. Just the faintest pink brushing your cheeks. Just a second too long of eye contact. Just enough to punch Satoru square in his already fragile, overly romantic, nerdy heart.

You don’t like him. Right? No. It’s just warm. It’s almost summer. The hallway’s probably stuffy. Your hoodie’s too thick. That’s it. That’s all it is.

“Hey,” you greeted, blissfully unaware of his internal collapse.

“H-Hey!” Satoru yelped, voice cracking at a completely unnecessary octave. “You made it! That’s so cool. That’s - you look. Uh. Dice. You brought dice. Awesome. Good job.”

What the hell are you saying? Shut up.

Geto smiled at him. That smug, easy smile that Satoru had seen melt hearts and start trouble since freshman year.

“You didn’t tell me your new player was cute,” he said, tone maddeningly casual. You blinked. Satoru stopped breathing.

“Oh,” you said, voice softening, eyes flicking away. A little flustered. “Um. Thanks.”

You’re just being polite. That’s not real. That wasn’t real. Right?

Satoru forced a smile that came out more like a grimace. His brain was melting. His heart was clawing against his ribs.

“Haha! Yeah. So anyway! Let’s, uh. Go. Sit. Down. And have a drink. Or a seat. Or both. Whatever people do. When they enter rooms. With other people.”

Oh my god, please shut up. Please shut up. You’re going to die here and your ghost will be a virgin forever.

a/n: if you see any mistakes...no you don't totally not editing this while getting ready for wicked...totally not

[ijustthinkevilunoisneat]

[kxsagi]

Hii lovely! Can i request the blue lock boys mistaking reader's older brother for another guy and getting jealous of him. (Plz include isagi, bachira, reo, nagi, rin, sae, kaiser, shidou and anyone else you'd like)

“𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐟 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥”

a/n: hiii bae, i love this idea sm! (pls forgive me for the low quality header)

ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei

isagi yoichi

you told him someone was picking you up after practice and didn’t mention who. 

so when he sees a tall guy with nice hair waiting by your car, he instantly pauses mid-jog like he’s in a sports anime slow-motion scene. 

“wait. who the hell…?” 

watches you hug this mystery man and get in the passenger seat. 

oh. oh it’s a wrap. he’s cooked. is this his karma for flexing his goal tally last week? 

that night he doesn't text you first (petty behavior unlocked). when you finally message, “did you get home safe?” he replies, “yeah. did you get home safe with your lil ‘uber driver’ or whatever 😐” 

nearly cries when you say it’s just your brother. 

“BROTHER? LIKE BLOOD BROTHER?” 

he meets him later and is so polite but clingy the whole time. has an arm slung around your shoulder like “i got her, no need to pick her up ever again.” 

gives you a shy kiss on the temple while looking your brother dead in the eye 😇

bachira meguru

sees your brother at your apartment when he comes over to surprise you. 

the door is slightly open. bachira peeks in and hears you say, “stop stealing my snacks!” and some guy laughing like he owns the place. 

bachira.exe has stopped working. 

this man literally runs away. doesn’t knock. just leaves. 

sends you a cryptic voice message like, “soooo do you still love me or should i get custody of our imaginary dog?” 

when you call and say it’s your brother, he LAUGHS LIKE A PSYCHO. 

“ohhhh that’s so funny ‘cause i was about to fight for my life 😭” 

next time he sees your brother, he fake-flexes his abs and tries to one-up him in every game, from uno to mario kart. 

“see babe? i’m the real alpha here. right, brother-in-law?” 

your brother loves him. thinks he’s weird. they do matching face masks later. 

mikage reo

the moment he sees you posting a blurry photo on your story captioned “my least favorite person 💔” with some dude's arm around your shoulder, he becomes a detective. 

zooms in. enhances. runs it through a filter. ignores the caption completely. 

“that’s not me. and it’s DEFINITELY not nagi. WHO IS THIS MAN.” 

texts you casually like: “sooo what’d you do today? meet anyone... interesting?” 

meanwhile he’s pacing in a designer hoodie. 

almost calls nagi to vent but remembers nagi doesn’t give a single damn. 

when you say “lmao that’s my brother, dumbass,” he sends you $100 with the caption: “sorry for doubting. pls buy snacks and forgive me 💜” 

meets your brother and turns on the CEO charm. 

“soooo… you single?” winks jokingly 

your brother, confused: “uh no?” 

“good. me neither.” arm around you. smug smirk. threat level: rich. 

nagi seishiro

looks up from his phone when you walk into a restaurant with some guy. 

blinks once. twice. 

puts his phone down. dramatic. “wow. didn’t know you were dating someone else.” 

sulks and stares at you across the room like he’s in a soap opera. 

when you come over and say, “sei, this is my brother,” he straight up says, “you have a brother? since when.” 

“since birth???” 

nods. doesn’t even apologize. 

“he looked too handsome. had to double-check.” 

ends up napping on your brother’s shoulder later like a sleepy cat. they bond over mobile games. 

itoshi rin

he’s already jealous of the mailman, so your brother didn’t stand a chance. 

sees him waiting for you outside and immediately assumes the worst. 

glares. bro is GLARING. 

mutters to himself, “should’ve known. she’s way too good for me.” 

gives you the coldest shoulder when you get in his car later. 

you’re like “what’s wrong with you.” 

“nothing. maybe you should ask your boyfriend.” 

you: “you mean my brother???” 

cue long pause. 

“… i knew that.” 

very quiet for the rest of the ride. holds your hand tighter though. 

texts sae like: “how do you tell someone you were ready to fight their sibling over nothing.” 

sae: “you don’t. you just live with it.” 

itoshi sae

sees you walking beside your brother and goes dead silent. 

looks him up and down. lips twitch. 

you’re like, “why do you look like you’re about to commit a felony?” 

“no reason. just thinking.” 

“thinking about what?” 

“thinking about breaking his ankles on a futsal court.” 

you tell him it’s your brother and he just goes “oh.” 

OH??? 

does he apologize? no. 

does he move on like nothing happened? yes. 

will still side-eye your brother whenever he sees him. 

gives him a firm handshake like he’s secretly arm-wrestling him. 

mutters under his breath: “i’m the better itoshi.” 

kaiser michael

he's cocky until he thinks he’s being replaced. 

sees a photo of you and your brother at the arcade and his ego takes a massive hit. 

“who is this peasant touching my queen.” 

replies to your story with: “cute pic. who’s the guy? should i be worried?” 

you: “that’s literally my brother.” 

kaiser: relieved scoff “oh thank goodness. for a second i was about to challenge him to a duel.” 

starts calling your brother “bro” the next time he sees him. 

“what’s up, bro. wanna see baby pics of your sister? i’ve got a whole album.” 

definitely shows off and starts speaking german around him for no reason. 

“was für ein schöner tag, oder? (what a beautiful day, isn’t it?)” 

“mihya, stop flexing, you sound like google translate.” 

shidou ryusei

sees you talking to your brother at a café. 

brain: jealousy, murder, mayhem. 

throws his smoothie in the trash and storms in. 

slaps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek with aggressive eye contact at your brother. 

“who’s this clown?” 

“ryu, this is my BROTHER.” 

“oh.” 

laughs like a maniac “well he’s ugly anyway, right babe?” 

your brother: “… i’m right here.” 

ends up challenging him to arm wrestling and fails spectacularly. 

“whatever. you might be stronger, but i get to kiss her.” 

sends you a voice note later like: “babe, don’t ever give me a heart attack like that again. i was about to grab my barbed wire bat.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[cheftsunoda]

okay we need more kimi x reader because maggie just adorable and everyone needs her as a little sister

it’s maggie’s world, we just live in it ♡

blurbs

kimi antonelli x reader

moments with maggie, kimi and yn ˚.🎀༘⋆

(this one finally got edited and made it out of the drafts)

—

—

!beach time ♡ ̆̈

If I could bottle this day up and keep it in my pocket forever, I would. The sun’s starting to melt into the horizon, spilling gold across the sand like someone up there knocked over a jar of light. The salty breeze whips little strands of hair into my face, and I don't even bother to fix them because Kimi’s laughing so hard next to me that I might cry from how much I love him.

We’ve been at the beach since noon. The three of us—Kimi, me, and Maggie, who insisted we pack “a real picnic” and not “just snacks like you weirdos always bring.”

Which is why our beach blanket looks like something out of an overly curated Instagram spread- fruits cut into little flowers (Maggie’s doing), three kinds of pasta (Kimi’s mom insisted), and the world’s most uneven sandwiches (mine—I got distracted halfway through because Kimi came in shirtless and asked if we had any grapes).

Now, Kimi is half-buried in sand, demanding we make him into a mermaid. Maggie is on her knees sculpting a seashell bikini top with a significant level of dedication.

“You are moving too much! It's lopsided!” Maggie shrieks, attempting to hold Kimi still.

I sit cross-legged beside them, laughing so hard I nearly choke on the lemonade I brought down from the cooler.

“Do not disrespect the ocean princess,” I warn, leaning over to adjust the ‘tail’ we built earlier, smoothing sand into elegant curves.

“I shall send you to the depths,” Maggie says in a dramatic, royal tone. Then she pauses, completely deadpan, and asks, “Is my hair still cute, though?”

“Very royal. Extremely majestic,” I say, brushing some of the sand out of her curls.

Kimi wiggles his way out of the sand and leans over and drops a kiss to my shoulder, quick and sun-warm. Maggie immediately sprints into the shallows, kicking up water and yelling something about being Poseidon's heir. I stay on the blanket, my head tilted back just enough to feel the sun on my face and the warmth still trapped in the fabric beneath me. Kimi flops down beside me a second later, his skin warm and damp from the sea.

“Should we be worried she’s building an army of crabs to overthrow us?” he murmurs, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“She already has. I saw her whispering to a hermit crab twenty minutes ago.”

Kimi laughs again—his real laugh, the unfiltered one that starts low in his chest and shakes his whole body. I love that sound more than I’ve ever loved anything. More than I can explain, even to myself. We lie there in silence for a bit, watching Maggie kick up water and chase a seagull like it personally offended her.

“She’s obsessed with you,” he says after a while, voice soft.

I glance over. His eyes are on me, not the sea.

“She’s my favorite girl in the world,” I reply honestly. “Well, second favorite.”

Kimi’s smile turns into something quieter, something that tugs on my chest like gravity.

“My mom said earlier this week that she thinks you’re more of an Antonelli than me.”

“She’s probably not wrong. I could out-cook you and beat you at Uno.”

“Okay, first of all—rude,” he says, nudging my knee with his. “Second of all… I hope you know how much it means. You being here. Always.”

I do. I feel it every time his mom texts me before races to ask if Kimi ate. Every time his dad saves the good corner seat for me at dinner. Every time Maggie crawls into bed with me at night when I sleep over because she had a bad dream and needs “her big sister.”

I feel it now, as Kimi pulls me into his arms, our backs against the sun-warmed sand and the sea rolling in and out in the background like a lullaby. Maggie is somewhere in the water shrieking about jellyfish (I’ll go check in a minute), but for now, it’s just us. Eighteen years old. Four years together. A thousand more ahead. And all I can think, as I press my face into his shoulder and feel his hand slide into mine, is— This is home.

—

!the great jellycat hunt♡ ̆̈

It starts, as most important quests do, with Maggie kicking open Kimi's bedroom door and declaring, “Today is Jellycat Day!”

I barely look up from my phone. “Is it now?”

She nods solemnly, hugging her well-worn bunny against her chest. “I had a dream that the new one I want was calling to me. Calling, YN. Spiritually. Through the universe.”

“Did it leave a voicemail?” I tease, stretching.

“No,” she says seriously. “But I think it was pink.”

I laugh, rolling out of bed as she flops onto the mattress beside me. Her little legs kick in the air as she dramatically sprawls out, eyes wide like she’s already mentally preparing for the journey ahead. Kimi appears in the doorway a few seconds later, rubbing sleep from his eyes and already suspicious.

“Why do I feel like this is not going to be fun for me?"

“It probably won't be.” I say sweetly, tossing a his hoodie over my tank top.

“Put on your best shopping shoes, Kimi,” Maggie says, flipping onto her stomach. “The mission begins in thirty minutes.”

He groans, but twenty-nine minutes later, he’s in the driver seat of my car, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, and the deep sigh of a boyfriend and brother who knows he’s not getting out of this anytime soon.

We hit the Jellycat boutique first��one of those little shops tucked into the corner of the piazza that somehow smells like vanilla. Maggie practically sprints inside.

“Oh my God, look at the tiny shrimp!” I squeal, picking up the plushy pink prawn with little felt legs and beady eyes.

Kimi glances at it like it’s a threat. “I don’t trust it.”

Maggie, meanwhile, is holding what I think is a dragon wearing a tutu. Her face is reverent, like she just found the Holy Grail.

“Kimi,” she says, serious as ever, “feel this one’s ears.”

Kimi reaches out obediently, deadpan. “Yep. Very… ear-like.”

Maggie gasps. “You don’t respect the process.”

“It’s a stuffed animal,” he says. “I’m not supposed to.”

“Oh, you’re one of those,” I mutter dramatically, arms full of a watermelon slice, a raccoon, and something that might be a mushroom. “A Jellycat cynic.”

Maggie and I ignore him entirely as we dive into the rows, judging each plush on their cuddle-ability, aesthetic, and—most importantly—the vibe.

“Kimi,” Maggie says suddenly, holding up a tiny fuzzy croissant. “This is you.”

He looks at it. “Why?”

“Because you look like you’re done with the world, but you’re actually very soft inside.”

I absolutely lose it.

“That is so accurate,” I wheeze, almost dropping the watermelon.

Kimi just stares at both of us like he’s rethinking every decision that led to this moment. But five minutes later, I catch him gently adjusting a Jellycat octopus on the shelf like he doesn’t want it to be left out. He notices me watching and immediately frowns. “It was crooked. It bothered me.”

“Sure,” I say, smirking. “That’s all it was.”

We leave the store thirty minutes later with three new friends: Maggie’s tutu dragon, a Jellycat loaf of bread that I insisted on, and—surprisingly—an espresso cup plushie that Kimi picked up near the register.

He shrugs when I raise my eyebrow at him. “I named it. Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s so a thing,” I grin.

—

!birthday activities ♡ ̆̈

Maggie turns ten today. Double digits. A whole decade.

She told me this morning—at 6:48 a.m. exactly—that it means she’s basically “a grown woman now” and should be allowed to drink espresso, drive a Vespa, and “maybe get a tiny tattoo of a butterfly if Papa says yes.”

I told her she could have a cappuccino and one of those temporary tattoos that smells like bubblegum. She agreed, but only because it was me asking.

Truth is, Maggie’s been stuck to me like Velcro all day. She hasn’t left my side since I walked into the kitchen this morning with her favorite birthday pancakes—strawberry banana with chocolate chips shaped like a smiley face. Kimi had been yawning next to me, watching with fond, sleepy eyes while I squirted whipped cream into a heart on top.

“You know she’s going to lose it,” he murmured.

“Isn’t that the goal?”

And now, six hours later, party in full swing, Maggie’s fingers are still wrapped tightly around mine as she pulls me through a whirlwind of chaos—half a dozen kids from her class, family friends, balloons, glitter, noise, presents, the works.

“I want you with me when I open gifts,” she whispers like it’s a secret, tugging me down to the living room floor.

“You got it, birthday queen,” I say, sitting cross-legged beside her.

Kimi walks by holding two juice boxes, one of which he hands me with a tiny smile. “Surviving?”

“Barely,” I laugh. “She’s my little limpet today.”

“I know,” he says, fond and amused. “She told me you were the only one who understood her ‘birthday energy.’”

And honestly? I do. She’s buzzing like a sugar rush and a dream come true, all wrapped in sparkly tulle and butterfly clips. I sneak away only once—while Maggie’s distracted by her aunt and a new pair of glitter rollerblades—to set up her surprise in the backyard.

Kimi helps me carry it out, grinning when he sees what it is. “She’s going to explode.”

“Good. That’s what we’re going for.”

We drape a blanket over it for dramatic flair and return inside like nothing happened. I barely sit down before Maggie’s crawling back into my lap like she’s six again, holding my arm.

“I don’t want to open the last one unless you’re with me,” she says.

“The last one?” I blink, playing dumb. “I thought you opened everything already.”

“Nope.” She points to a big pink envelope sticking out of a gift bag. “That one says ‘final surprise.’”

“Ohhh,” I say, grinning. “That one.”

I help her up and lead her outside, where the sun is golden and warm over the Antonelli backyard. Kimi is already there, lounging casually on a bench like he didn’t just help me stage a full birthday miracle. The rest of the family is gathering, watching as Maggie skips across the grass with me.

“Wait,” she says, stopping in front of the blanket-covered object. “What is this?”

“Your final surprise,” I say, kneeling next to her. “Want to open it?”

Her eyes are wide. “It’s big.”

“It’s special.”

She pulls off the blanket with a little gasp—and then freezes.

Because underneath it is the miniature pastel pink Jellycat claw machine.

It’s handmade, custom, and filled with her favorite little plushies. The kind she’s dreamed about ever since we saw a video of one on Instagram months ago. I’d saved every spare bit of money and scoured the internet for someone who could build it. It even has her name on it—“MAGGIE’S KINGDOM” in sparkly letters across the top. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just… stares. And then she bursts into tears.

“Mags?” I panic, dropping to my knees again. “Are you okay?! Did I mess up—”

“No!” she sobs, throwing her arms around my neck with such force we almost both topple over. “It’s perfect! You’re perfect! I love you!”

I melt. Right there in the middle of the backyard, surrounded by balloons and streamers and ten-year-old chaos, I hold Maggie in my arms while she cries happy tears into my shoulder.

“Now you can win every Jellycat you want,” I whisper.

“You’re my favorite person,” she sniffles. “Even more than Taylor Swift.”

I gasp. “That’s serious.”

“I know.”

Kimi chuckles behind us, but even he looks a little choked up. I glance over at him as Maggie pulls away and runs to try the claw machine—her fingers already reaching for the joystick, face glowing with joy.

He mouths- You’re amazing.

I shrug, blinking back my own tears. “She’s worth it.”

And it hits me, like it always does when I look at her—that this little girl, with her messy curls and her giant heart, changed everything for me. She made me part of this family. She made me hers. And on her tenth birthday, there’s nothing I’m more proud to be.

—

date night? ♡ ̆̈

Kimi and I were supposed to have a date night. And not just any date night. The date night. You know—the kind where you shave your legs, actually do your hair, and pick the fancy perfume. The kind where he shows up at the front door with flowers even though he’s been at your side for the past four hours. I had my dress picked. Kimi even made a reservation at that dreamy little rooftop spot in Modena, the one with string lights and lemon sorbet served in tiny glass cups. And then Maggie looked up from her coloring book.

She was cross-legged on the living room rug, wearing her dinosaur pajamas and her favorite bunny slippers, completely zoned out—until she heard me say, “We’ll be back by eleven, promise.”

That’s when she froze. Looked up. Blinked.

“Wait… you’re leaving?”

Kimi paused halfway through adjusting his jacket. “Just for dinner, Mags.”

“Without me?” she asked, like we’d just announced we were moving to Mars.

My heart did that annoying ping thing it always does when she sounds a little too small.

“You’ve got Nonna and a movie night,” I reminded her gently, kneeling in front of her. “And popcorn. And candy. And ‘High School Musical’—the one with the rooftop dance you like.”

“But I wanted to do movie night with you guys,” she said, her lip wobbling. “We were gonna make the popcorn shapes! Remember?”

Kimi and I locked eyes. One of those long, wordless stares we’ve perfected over the years. It was that are we really doing this look followed by the yep, we are kind of sigh.

He pulled out his phone, tapped something, and looked back at me.

“Reservation canceled.”

I smiled. “Dress code officially downgraded to dinosaur pajamas.”

Maggie gasped. “Are you serious?!”

Kimi ruffled her curls. “You better go grab the marshmallows."

Ten minutes later, we’re all in the kitchen like a tiny culinary tornado. Maggie stands on a stool next to me, wearing an apron that says Sous Chef Supreme, dunking handfuls of popcorn into a big bowl of melted white chocolate and sprinkles.

“Are these even legal?” Kimi asks, holding up one of the finished blobs. “They look like unicorns exploded.”

“That’s the point,” Maggie says, snatching it from his hand. “They’re pop-stars. Popcorn stars.”

“You’re raising a pun goblin,” Kimi mutters to me under his breath.

“You love it,” I say, handing him a warm cookie from the oven.

He kisses my cheek in response. “Unfortunately.”

We make a blanket fort in the living room big enough for a family of five. Maggie insists we bring in her entire Jellycat army. By the time she’s done arranging them, we’re surrounded by a croissant, two bunnies, a pineapple, a toast, and one very smug espresso plush named Beanie.

The movie starts, and Kimi lets Maggie use him as a pillow while she sprawls across both our laps. I stroke her hair without even thinking, and she hums, eyes already drooping after the first musical number.

“Can’t believe we ditched lemon sorbet for this,” I whisper to Kimi, smiling.

He glances over at me, arm stretched behind my shoulders, his thumb brushing lazy circles into my skin.

“I’d trade a hundred rooftop reservations for this,” he says quietly, looking down at Maggie.

“I know,” I say. “Me too.”

We fall into a soft silence. The TV glows, Maggie breathes slow and even between us, and for a moment, everything is still. This isn’t the night we planned. It’s messier. Stickier. Slightly more chaotic. But it’s also us.

Kimi nudges me gently, whispering, “Hey.”

I turn my head. He smiles.

“We’ve got the rest of our lives for date nights.”

I lean my head on his shoulder, hand still wrapped around Maggie’s tiny one.

“Exactly.”

—

surprise? ♡ ̆̈

The thing about Kimi Antonelli is—he doesn’t ask for much. Even on race weekends, when pressure bubbles beneath every moment and tension cuts sharp behind every smile, he never demands. He’s focused. Calm. Quietly confident. The kind of person who keeps his world small, not because he doesn’t love—but because he loves so deeply that he guards it. Which is why I noticed the second he started missing them. He didn’t say anything. Of course not. He never would.

But I saw the way his eyes lingered on FaceTime calls longer than usual, how his fingers hovered over pictures Maggie drew and taped to his helmet bag, how he didn’t even joke when he walked past the empty guest paddock passes on the desk.

“They’ll come next time,” he said with a shrug last night, sitting beside me on the hotel balcony, gaze fixed on the stars.

“I know,” I’d said, squeezing his hand.

What I didn’t say was- They’re already on their way.

I spent two weeks planning this.

His mom and dad took some convincing—between his sister’s school schedule and his dad’s work—but when I told them the truth, that he missed them more than he’d admit, they didn’t hesitate.

“Anything for our boy,” his mother had said with a smile in her voice.

Maggie, naturally, was all in from the second I mentioned it.

“I’ll bring the Jellycats, but only the important ones,” she’d whispered on the phone, like it was a top-secret mission. “Tell Kimi I’m going to teleport. But don’t really tell him.”

Today, race day morning, I watch Kimi stand in the middle of the motorhome garage area, completely unaware of what’s about to happen. He’s stretching absently, one headphone in, hair slightly mussed, focus locked on his schedule like he’s trying to keep his head in the zone.

I walk over and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

He gives me a small smile. “Tired. Wish the race started already.”

“Still bummed about your parents?”

He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “I mean, a little. But I get it. Maggie’s got school. Papà’s got that meeting. It’s fine. You’re here.”

My chest aches a little at that. Because I know exactly how much it means to him.

I glance at my watch. “Hey, will you come with me for a second?”

Kimi gives me a curious look but follows without question as I lead him out of the back garage area and into the small private team hospitality space. The early morning sunlight filters through the open doors, golden and soft.

And that’s when he hears it.

“KIMIIIIIIIIII!”

The sound is high-pitched, delighted, unmistakable. He freezes. Spins.

And Maggie barrels into view from behind the espresso bar, dressed in a mercedes shirt and wearing a sparkly pink hat with "Go Rocket Boy!" scrawled in glitter paint across the front.

Kimi stares for a second like his brain can't quite believe what he's seeing. Then he laughs—full-bodied, breathless, real—just as Maggie launches herself into his arms. He catches her easily, arms wrapping around her small frame, forehead resting against her hair.

“Maggie,” he breathes, still stunned. “What—? You’re here?”

“Duh. I teleported,” she says proudly. “With Mama and Papa.”

Kimi looks up, and sure enough, his parents are standing a few feet behind her, beaming like they’ve just won the lottery. His mom waves with a little mist in her eyes. His dad gives him a thumbs-up and says something in Italian that I don’t quite catch—but whatever it is, it makes Kimi laugh again. He turns to me next, eyes soft and warm, still holding Maggie like she’s something precious and rare.

“You did this?”

I shrug. “Well, I made the call. Maggie organized the operation.”

Maggie grins. “I’m the boss.”

Kimi sets her down gently and steps forward, pulling me into his arms before I can say another word. His hug is tight, strong, and full of something unspoken.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into my hair.

“For what?”

“For knowing,” he says. “And making it happen.”

Later, as he suits up and heads to the garage, Maggie walks beside him like a tiny bodyguard, proudly carrying his helmet in both arms.

“I’ll be on the radio in spirit,” she tells him.

“You better be,” he replies, ruffling her hair.

I watch from a few feet back, standing beside his parents, heart full. He walks toward the grid with his whole family behind him. He looks lighter. Brighter. Like someone who remembers exactly who he’s driving for.

—

[youngsadlesbian]

hi, one of my favorite writers!

i never noticed your requests were open, so is it okay if you write about wanda x fem!reader where they have been in a relationship for almost 6 years, the longest in their friend group, their friends assume the worst because they love eachother like bestfriends. what i mean is that when their friends see them sleeping together, they both face the other way. or when they watch a movie, their isn’t much snuggling. but when they’re actually alone, they feel more comfortable with eachother, that their friends walk in on them being clingy to eachother. being a lowkey couple isn’t so bad compared to what their friends think type of trope!

thank you for your time, and i love your works. xo !

BEHIND CLOSE DOORS

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: after nearly six years together, your relationship with wanda is the longest-lasting one in your friend group. but to everyone else, you two don’t look like the typical couple. you don’t snuggle at movie nights, you sleep facing opposite directions at group sleepovers, and your friends quietly assume your spark is gone. little do they know, you and wanda are simply a lowkey couple—comfortable and deeply in love when the world isn’t looking. but when your friends accidentally stumble upon one of your private, clingy moments, they realize just how wrong they’ve been.

a/n: i had this request in my inbox for a long time and only noticed it these days. sorry for the delay and i hope you like it.

word count: 1,1k

warnings: fluff <3

“You and Wanda are basically like an old married couple,” Kate teased, nudging you with her elbow as you all sat around the coffee table for game night.

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” you replied, raising a brow as you stacked your deck for Uno.

“No! Not bad, just…” Kate trailed off, clearly trying to find the right words.

“Predictable,” Yelena finished bluntly, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“I mean, you don’t even sit next to each other during movie nights,” Natasha chimed in, smirking from her spot on the couch.

Wanda, who was sitting across from you, laughed lightly. “So? We’ve been together for six years. We don’t have to be glued to each other.”

“Yeah, but where’s the passion?” Kate asked, gesturing dramatically. “The fire? The hand-holding and constant cuddling?”

“We’re not 16,” you deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Wanda.

Your friends dropped the topic after that, but you could still see the curious glances they exchanged. You and Wanda didn’t fit their idea of what a couple should look like, but you didn’t really care. You and Wanda were fine just the way you were.

Living together for the past three years had only made your relationship stronger. You and Wanda had fallen into a comfortable rhythm that worked perfectly for both of you.

Your mornings started with quiet moments—Wanda making coffee while you scrambled eggs, sharing small smiles across the kitchen. Evenings were spent unwinding on the couch, reading, or binge-watching whatever show caught your attention that week.

You didn’t feel the need to be overly affectionate in public or around your friends because your bond didn’t rely on outward displays. It was in the little things: Wanda setting aside the last slice of pizza for you, or you remembering to buy her favorite tea when the supply at home ran low.

But your friends didn’t see those moments. They only saw the surface.

The first time your friends openly voiced their concerns, it was at Natasha’s apartment after a late-night movie marathon.

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” Yelena started, her tone making it clear she was about to say something controversial.

“Here we go,” Wanda muttered under her breath, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“It’s just… are you two, like, okay?” Yelena asked hesitantly.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve been together for so long, but you don’t act like it,” Kate interjected. “You’re more like… roommates or best friends.”

Wanda exchanged a look with you, her lips twitching in amusement. “Just because we don’t make out in front of you doesn’t mean we’re not fine.”

“Exactly,” you added. “We’re just not into PDA. That’s all.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two even hold hands.”

At that, you and Wanda burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” Wanda said, wiping a tear from her eye. “You guys are ridiculous.”

But the concern on their faces didn’t fade.

Later that night, back at your apartment, you and Wanda finally addressed the conversation.

“Do you think they really believe we don’t love each other?” you asked, pulling on a sweatshirt as you got ready for bed.

Wanda was already under the covers, scrolling through her phone. “Probably. But who cares? We know the truth.”

You climbed into bed beside her, resting your head on her shoulder. “Still, it’s kind of funny.”

“They think we’re boring,” Wanda said with a dramatic sigh, wrapping an arm around you.

You laughed. “If only they knew.”

Because behind closed doors, you and Wanda were anything but boring. You loved snuggling up during quiet afternoons, Wanda’s fingers tracing patterns on your arm as you watched TV. You teased each other endlessly, sharing inside jokes that no one else would understand.

And when it came to physical affection, it wasn’t something you felt the need to flaunt. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there—it was in every kiss goodnight, every lingering touch, every whispered “I love you” before falling asleep.

\*/

The incident happened a week later. Your friends had come over to your apartment to hang out, and you had no idea they were still around when you wandered into the kitchen to find Wanda.

She was standing by the counter, scrolling through her phone, when you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind.

“Hi,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Wanda smiled, setting her phone down to place her hands over yours. “Hi.”

“I missed you,” you admitted, resting your chin on her shoulder.

“You were in the living room five minutes ago,” Wanda teased, turning her head to kiss your cheek.

“Still missed you,” you said with a grin.

The sound of a dramatic gasp made both of you freeze. You turned to see Kate, Yelena, and Natasha standing in the doorway, their jaws practically on the floor.

“Oh. My. God,” Kate said, pointing a finger at you two. “You do like each other!”

Yelena burst out laughing. “This is amazing. I feel like I’ve just uncovered the world’s greatest secret.”

Natasha smirked. “So much for ‘just best friends.’”

Wanda rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Get over it, guys.”

But your friends didn’t let it go. For the rest of the night, they wouldn’t stop teasing you about how “different” you were when no one was watching.

After that, your friends seemed to accept that your relationship didn’t need to look like anyone else’s. They stopped questioning why you and Wanda weren’t overly affectionate in public, and they stopped assuming the worst.

And while you still preferred to keep most of your relationship private, you didn’t mind letting a little bit of your affection show.

“See?” Wanda said one day, lacing her fingers with yours as you walked into Joe’s Bar. “A little PDA won’t kill us.”

You grinned, squeezing her hand. “It’ll definitely keep them off our backs.”

From then on, your friends never doubted the love between you and Wanda again. Because whether you were holding hands in public or sharing quiet moments at home, your connection was undeniable.

[zhelin-thames]

Constantine, Chaos, and the Support Group from Hell

pev Masterpost

Location: Zatanna’s Living Room, Because the Watchtower is Now “Danny-Proofed” Zatanna: So glad everyone could make it! John Constantine: I was tricked. You told me this was an emergency exorcism. Zatanna: It is. For your sanity.

Danny and Tim (enter simultaneously) Tim: Yo. Danny: Hey, Dad. Constantine: CHOKES ON CIGARETTE Tim: He’s not your dad. Danny: Yet. Constantine: WHEEZING Danny: (to Zatanna) Did you know he dated my adopted grandpa Clockwork in the '80s? Zatanna: …Wait what. Danny: Yeah. I’m your metaphorical step-grandson. Constantine: genuinely begins performing an exorcism with holy water and sarcasm

Bernard and Tucker enter with Starbucks and dead eyes Tucker: We brought lattes and emotional damage. Bernard: Is he banishing Danny again? Tucker: He tried last week. Danny absorbed the circle and said “yum.” Danny (cheerfully): It tasted like salt and bad decisions. Constantine: I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS.

Support Circle™ Time Zatanna: Okay, let’s start the meeting. Everyone, name one thing stressing you out.

Tucker: Hi, I’m Tucker. I’m here because I love my boyfriend, but I can’t keep track of who’s who. Bernard: I’m Bernard. I’m here for moral support. Also, because Danny once pulled me through a wall thinking I was Tim. Danny: I stand by that. Bernard: My boyfriend can’t go two days without getting mistaken for his chaos twin. Tucker: Mine phased through the kitchen floor to avoid paying for lunch. Tim: Hi, I’m Tim. I cause 50% of the chaos. Danny: And I cause the better 50%. Constantine: Hi. I’m John. I’m leaving. Danny: You can’t. You live inside me now. John: I’m calling an exorcist. Zatanna: You are the exorcist. John: Then we’re all doomed.

Constantine: eye twitching He has all my soul. Everyone Else: …WHAT?! Danny: Just a little piece! Like, 78% tops. Tim: We were playing poker and he bet John’s soul as a bluff. Danny: I wasn’t bluffing. I won. Constantine: YOU CANNOT OWN A MAN’S SOUL VIA UNO. Danny: You can if it was a Draw Four. Zatanna: …Technically he’s right. Constantine: I. HATE. TIME. GHOSTS.

Later: Constantine tries to escape Constantine: If I leave now, I can still fake my death and move to another plane— Danny (floating outside window): You forgot your coat, Granddad’s Boyfriend~ Constantine: screams into the void Danny: Also, I RSVP’d you to brunch with Clockwork. It’s eternal. Constantine: I’m exorcising myself. Bernard: You’ll still owe Danny rent for the soul-space. Tucker: I’m charging him ghost tax.

Group Activity: Sharing Feelings Danny: I feel like having a soul dad has made me a better person. Constantine: You’ve used me to summon ghosts during gym class. Danny: That was ONE TIME. Tim: It was four times. Tucker: Once for dodgeball. That one was kinda awesome. Bernard: I still see Slimer when I blink. Constantine: I’ve fought demons with more emotional regulation. Danny: You’re just mad I beat your high score in haunting.

Group Chat – “The Hell Support Club” Danny: Guys. I convinced Constantine to attend therapy. Tim: Did you possess him again? Danny: No. I just reminded him Clockwork still has his mixtapes from 1983. Bernard: Emotional blackmail is self-care. Tucker: Group hug? Danny & Tim: phase through each other trying to do one Constantine (texting): I hate you all. Group Therapy Turns to Chaos (Inevitable) Danny: Hey Dad, wanna see me go full ghost mode? Constantine: If you even flicker, I swear by the River Styx— Danny: goes full glowing-eyed, floating, cape-of-shadows Ghost King mode Room temperature drops by 30 degrees Bernard: sipping cocoa, unfazed Yeah this happens. Tim: You get used to it. Tucker: I am so turned on right now. Constantine: I need bleach. For my soul. Danny: grinning with eldritch teeth Joke’s on you. I already have it.

Ten Minutes Later Constantine: So this is hell. This is my hell. Zatanna: Welcome to the Support Group from Hell™ Tucker: Next meeting’s on Wednesday. We’re doing soul-care crafts. Bernard: We make little felt ghosts. Danny eats the glitter. Danny: I regret nothing. Tim: They’re edible glitter. It’s fine. Constantine: I will never emotionally recover from this. Danny: But you will spiritually recover. Inside me. Forever. Constantine: screaming into his trench coat

Group Chat: ChaosSupportNetwork Tucker: That went well. Bernard: Better than last time. Tim: At least the carpet didn’t catch fire this time. Danny: New personal best. Constantine: I AM TRAPPED IN A TWINK WITH A GHOST COMPLEX. Danny: 💖 Love you too, Dad! 💖 Zatanna: See you all next week. Don’t forget to bring snacks. Constantine: sobbing emoji