#cure happy + reader

[baileypie-writes]

~Their Good and Evil Friend~

The Smile Pretty Cure + GN!Sunshine!Villain!Reader

This is a sequel to these headcanons!

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

Fandom: Smile Pretty Cure!

Fanfic Type: Oneshot(s)

Reader: Gender neutral, a villain

Relationship: Platonic

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,438

Synopsis: This is a three part oneshot. You’re a villain from Bad End, though your personality is very kind! The first part is when you meet the Pretty Cure. The second part is fighting them for the first time. And the last part is about hanging out with them after they know you’re a villain.

Warnings: None!

Requested By: @kaymerx

A/N ~ I hope you enjoy this! I ended up not having enough motivation to write the last part, and it was getting too long anyway. So sorry about that!

~Masterlists~

~Smile Pretty Cure! Masterlist~

‼️Glitter Force stans DNI‼️

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

~Meeting Them~

“Good morning class.” Miss Sasaki greeted. The students quieted down after a few moments. Normally, it took at least two tries, but this time, they were eager to hear a specific announcement. “Good. Now, before I start today’s lesson. I have some news.” Everyone leaned in. “We have a new student joining us today.”

Curious murmurs erupted through the classroom. They had heard rumors of someone joining, but they weren’t sure if they were true. But now that it was confirmed, they were excited.

“Quiet down, please.” Miss Sasaki asked. Once again, the students obeyed. “Come on in, (last name).” She motioned with her hand for you to come forward.

The sliding door opened, and in you walked. Immediately, the room seemed to become brighter. A cheerful, happy aura radiated off of you. Taking hold of a piece of chalk, you wrote your full name on the board. The other students all watched your hand as it moved from top to bottom. Once you were done, you stepped out of the way, so that they could read it. “Hello! My name is (full name)! It’s nice to meet you all!” You greeted with a bow. Once you popped back up, you smiled to the class. Everyone smiled back. It was as if yours was contagious.

“Great. Now, your seat is behind Yayoi Kise; the blonde right there.” Miss Sasaki pointed to the shy looking girl in the front.

Said girl jumped a bit, seemingly started from the sudden attention. But she quickly did a little wave to signal to you. You happily waved back.

After sitting down if your assigned seat, Miss Sasaki turned to the board, erasing your name. “Alright, now let’s get on with the lesson.”

~~~~

After the lesson had concluded, you were bombarded with questions from all of your new classmates. You were happy to answer all of them, though. Everyone seemed enamored by your kind personality, and they just kept asking more and more questions.

“Come on guys, let’s not overwhelm Mx (last name).” You heard a voice from the back of the crowd. The crowd split, and revealed a girl with long, dark blue hair. She walked up to your desk, and held out her hand. “Hello, (last name). My name is Reika Aoki, and I’m the student council president. I hope you’ll feel welcome in our school.” She gave you a gentle smile.

You shook her hand, all while smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you Aoki! And you can just call me (first name)! I’m already feeling really welcome!”

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad.” She responded.”

Now that the crowd had died down, you finally had the chance to talk to the girl in front of you. She was drawing in a sketchbook, so you tapped her shoulder to get her attention. After jumping, she looked over to you.

“Hi Kise! I can’t wait to get to know you! You seem like a really nice person!”

“Oh… thanks. You too.” She said quietly. You frowned a bit, worried that you had done something wrong.

“Don’t worry, Yayoi’s just shy.” You heard a voice behind you. After turning around, you saw another girl, this time with red hair. “I’m Akane Hino, one of Yayoi’s friends. Put ‘er there!” She held out her hand to shake, to which you did. You had probably done more handshakes that day than you ever had your entire life.

“And I’m Miyuki Hoshizora!” A pink haired girl popped up from behind Hino.

“And that’s Nao Midorikawa.” Hino pointed to the girl in a ponytail who stood close by.

“Hey! I was gonna introduce myself!” She complained.

You just laughed. They all seemed like an interesting bunch of people. You were gonna do your very best to befriend them. But you were prepared for a potentially difficult journey. Because you knew that they would eventually find out about your current secret.

~Meeting Them as a Villain~

You squeezed the packet of ink of your hands, and it burst all over it. You opened your book, and smudged the black goo over its pages. Immediately, the sky went dark, and the people below dropped to the ground in despair. You could feel the negative energy all around.

“Hey!” You heard a familiar voice shout. Looking down from your place in the sky, you saw Hino and her friends.

“Oh! Hello!” You waved.

The girls all looked at you with shocked and confused expressions. Hoshizora and Kise even waved back a little. “Uh, okay?” Midorikawa said. “Anyway, let’s go!”

“Pretty Cure, Smile Charge!” They all shouted, and began transforming. You just stood by, watching the mesmerizing spectacle. Seeing all the sparkly powder poof their outfits into place was so magical! But it only lasted for a moment.

“Oh, yeah! I forgot!” You pulled out a red clown nose from your pocket; given to you by Joker. After glancing around for a bit, you decided on your target. “Come on out, Akanbe!” You commanded, hoisting the nose into the air. That summoned the Akanbe, who took the form of a nearby cherry blossom tree.

Immediately, the girls began fighting it. You just watched, curious to see their power. And you were definitely not disappointed! They kicked and punched it, knocking it over with ease.

“Wow! You guys are so strong! So cool!” You said in awe.

“Um… thank you?” Cure March said, confused.

“Do they seem familiar to anyone?” Cure Beauty questioned.

Shoot. You couldn’t reveal your identity! “I-I shouldn’t! This is our first time meeting!” You stuttered nervously.

As you fumbled around, trying to convince them, your Akanbe was defeated, and the world reverted back to its normal state. “Oh, look at that! You guys won! Great job!” You clapped.

“Thank you! Wait, why are you congratulating us? You’re the bad guy.” Cure Happy said.

“Yeah, now that I’m thinking about it, you do seem familiar.” Cure Sunny pondered.

“Uh- I- Gotta go!” And with a snap of your fingers, you left the awkward situation behind, and went back to Bad End.

~Hanging out With Them as Friends~

(This is after they found out you’re a villain)

“Oh look, it’s (last name)!” Miyuki pointed out to her friends. She then waved both her arms while calling your name, all to get your attention.

It didn’t take long at all for you to notice. You happily waved back, and jogged over to them. “Hey guys!” You greeted, to which they all responded with their own greetings.

“We’re gonna go get some ice cream! Wanna come?” Miyuki offered.

“Well, I was supposed to fight you guys today and collect some negative energy… but getting ice cream sounds way more fun!”

“Thank goodness. I really didn’t wanna have to deal with anything Pretty Cure related today.” Nao let out a sigh of relief.

You just laughed, and followed them to your destination.

~~~~

After a bit of a walk, you all arrived at the ice cream shop. It was small and cute. The interior decor was completely in pastel colors, giving off a sweet, gentle atmosphere.

“What flavor are you guys gonna get?” You asked.

“I think I’m gonna get mango.” Akane said after browsing the menu for a moment.

“I like lemon.” Yayoi said.

“I think the pistachio looks good!” Nao added.

“I’m gonna get strawberry! Pink is my favorite color, after all!” Miyuki said.

“I think I would enjoy blueberry the best.” Reika stated.

“What about you, (name)?” Nao asked.

“Hmm.” You skimmed through the menu. “I’ll get (favorite flavor)!”

Everyone ordered their ice cream, and sat on the tables outside. The umbrellas above them provided a nice, cool shade.

You all enjoyed your sweet treats, all while talking about miscellaneous things. Occasionally, Miyuki would get a brain freeze from eating her ice cream too fast, which everyone laughed at. It wasn’t as funny when Yayoi nearly cried from getting one herself though. After that, Reika monitored everyone to make sure they ate at a reasonable pace.

Akane would always try to sneak a spoonful of someone’s ice cream while they weren’t looking. But you allowed her to a bite of yours, no thievery needed. She eventually stopped once she took a bit of Nao’s though, as she found out that she thought pistachio flavored ice cream was disgusting.

It was nice that even though you’re from completely opposite sides of the battlefield, you can still be friends with the Pretty Cure! It’s always fun hanging out with them. So fun, that you don’t care about being scolded for not doing your job when getting back to Bad End!

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[fiddlehead-soup]

BG3 Boyfs Helping You with Chronic Hand Pain

Super niche but hi, I'm here to deliver!! 😚 Let the boyfs make you feel better!

🤎 Raphael:

It's your own damned fault for being stubborn and not just accepting his contract to help you, so deal with it! He still insists you need hands-free entertainment, however, and seems eager to recite you poetry. 🙂

💙 Gale:

Always reminds you to take breaks while you're doing strenuous tasks and to do your stretches and exercises ALL! THE! TIME! ✋ He does NOT let you miss it.

❤️ Wyll:

Writes all your correspondence for you! Just dictate it! And anything else he can assist with!! Let him HELP! 🗣️

🤍 Astarion:

Shaves your arms and applies your kinesiology tape for you and helps remove it in the bath, too. Gives loves and kisses to your hands and arms before and afterwards! 💕

💜 Emperor:

THAT WON'T WORK! Let them do it for you. 😤

💛 Gortash:

Comes up with so many cool inventions that make your life sooo much easier!! 🤗

💚 Halsin:

Recognizes your triggers before you even enact them and reminds you not to. 😠 Sometimes he's a little overbearing, but you know it's for the best; he's right.

[fandoms--fluff]

Can do you Hope Mikaleson x Reader. Where Reader is a half-human and half-werewolf. And they are established relationship and she has a sister but she didn’t tell Hope and Hope sees them and she got really jealous where her eyes glow and growling. Angst and Fluff

Mix-up

Flufftober, October 14th

Female werewolf reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The whole super squad, including Hope, is at the mystic grill. They're eating lunch, getting away from the school.

"Hey, isn't that your girlfriend, Hope?" Kaleb nods over to a table on the other side of the restaurant.

Everyone looks over to where you're sitting at a table with another girl across from you. You guys are laughing about something she said about her new biology teacher who's a horrible teacher.

"Oh, yeah, that's y/n" Hope nods, swallowing the fry she has in her mouth. Her mood for the rest of the day changes.

Why were you with another girl? And who is she? She's never seen her before. And you have never mentioned her, she knows that for sure.

She knows that you're a werewolf, all your ex-girlfriends, you tell her about everything. At least she thought everything. You guys share a dorm room for gods sake! But why wouldn't you tell her about meeting up with another girl today? Hope thinks. It's now night, the stars and a half-moon shining high in the sky.

Her eyes grow yellow, she starts feeling her fangs growing, until she hears the key jiggling in the door lock.

You walk into the room, locking the door after yourself. "Hey, Hope!" you exclaim, taking your heeled boots and leather jacket off. "Hi," She says, standoffish.

"Everything alright?" You ask her, sitting on the foot of her bed. "Mhm, fine" She looks in any direction but you.

"Are you sure about that? Did something happen with you and the others today?" You ask, worriedly.

"Who were you with?" Hope meets your eyes.

"What?" You ask, confused. "At the grill. I saw you with another girl, you were laughing and, having fun and everything and it looked like as if you were on a date." She plays with one of her rings.

"What?...Oh, Hope, I wasn't on a date. That other girl, she's my little sister. She's two years younger than us" You explain, a soft smile on your face.

"Your sister? You have a sister?" She's shocked at the new piece of information. She has a sheepish look on her face, realizing she's been jealous of your sister. Your younger sister at that.

"You thought I was cheating on you, weren't you?" You chuckle, putting everything together. "maybe..."

"But not anymore. I'm sorry for jumping on you like that" She apologizes.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, baby" You bring her into your arms. She breathes in your lavender perfume. "How about we swt up a campfire?" You whisper.

"Yes!" Hope exclaims, perking up immediately.

You guys sneak into the woods and build a campfire. Secluded your selves from everyone else while an orange glow emits from the fire.

[nomoreusername]

The Other Side

Pairing:Newt x gender neutral reader

Summary:After both Newt and you get the flare you make a life ending decision together.

It was the worst thing to happen to anyone. I had caught the flare along with Newt. Despite Thomas trying his best two people, almost half dead, and going insane, was a lot to handle. He had to drop us on the ground.

"I don't think I can do this anymore,"I panted, laying still in front of the WCKD building.

"You'll both be fine. They're getting the cure. You'll be fine,"Thomas tried to assure this.

"Don't make promises you can't keep,"Newt murmured, his body almost completely limp next to mine. I felt like my heart had stopped beating, like something was hitting my head over and over, as I felt myself freeze. I couldn't move.

This was for the best because once those lights came on everything inside me seemed to cloud over. I had one thought on my mind. Somebody needs to suffer.

I turned my head to see a stranger glaring at me, with black eyes, and black drool. He looked just as ready to kill so I had to get to him first.

I lunged at him and knocked him to the ground. He scratched at me, his nails drawing blood. This stranger was a threat.

"No! No!"Someone screamed, trying to pull me off. I threw that person to the ground. They hit it with a thud before lying motionless.

I went over to see who it was when I realized something. Thomas. I had just killed Thomas. At least, I thought so until I saw his chest moved. I didn't kill him. I caused him pain.

"Tommy?"Newt asked, kneeling next to me. I looked over a him. He didn't have much time left either.

"I'm sorry Thomas,"I whispered, closing my eyes. I pulled a gun from my pocket and looked at Newt. He nodded as his eyes filled with tears.

We couldn't live like this though. This wasn't even living, and we knew our friends wouldn't make it to save us.

He pulled his own gun out and held against his head. We just stared at each other.

"I love you Newt,"I said for what could be the last time.

"I love you too. I'll see you in the other side,"He whispered.

"Yeah. If we get there I'll find you,"I promised. He nodded before closing his eyes. I did the same before pulling the trigger.

If only we had waited just one more minute. Then, Brenda would have given us the cure.

[characterswithcolorsnamesfight]

Prelim Poll 12

Propaganda here

[mydreamscape-library]

thinking about mitsuri kanroji x chubby reader……

[thistuesdaynight]

Why go to therapy when I have fanfiction?

And no, I don't want to discuss my Ao3 history.

[the-mostdiabolik-of-lovers]

Reiji San, happy birthday, I have...made you something you might like, please take a good care of it, I spend some time to create this /The girl embarrassedly holds out a hand-wrapped gift box, which contained a dark blue shirt made of cotton and viscose with embroidered birds of prey on the collar, as well as a bookmark, also embroidered on it in the form of a black crow with a white mouse in its claws/

Reiji: Whilst these types of shirts are not exactly my taste, considering the time and effort you say you put into this, I take that it is more for display than use, hm?

Reiji: I might have to commission you for a tea-cosy or two, in future, fufu.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

I have another Doc Doodle for you 🤲 From “Soft Words” a personal favorite of mine! Needed to get this out of my system after that last chapter of “Breaking Point” 🥺😂

MORE??!! EEEEEE!!!!!

Aw this was just a rough bout of hopeless for our dear Doc, poor Hunter... You captured their emotions so well! I, also, would like to bite his shoulders, please. They look very biteable (I may have a shoulder kink. And by "may" I mean "Definitely do omg shoulder muscles are my weakness")

THANK YOOOUUUU!!!

[slashingdisneypasta]

If you're bored, here's an imagine for you!

Since Jim-Balayla lives in America, and the health care system sucks out here, what if instead of going to the doctors whenever he is injured, he goes to Y/N?

Maybe they are long-time friends, so he knows that Y/N will take care of him. Or maybe Y/N was some random neighbor that Jim just had a feeling would help him, and this has become a tradition now. Either way, his bumbling accidents have made them come closer ^^ (Bonus points if Y/N is a nurse/doctor. Either currently practicing or retired)

You know I snorted when I saw 'Jim-balayla' XDD 👌

LET ME RAISE YOU... Ex-Wife Y/N/Ex Husband Jim. Broke up cuz Jim's crazy and Y/N didn't wanna put up with it anymore. Legally they are still married (Maybe he wouldn't sign the pages, or he refused to pay the bill; Something like that), they just don't talk anymore or live together.

BUT... they are still very comfortable together and very heart eyed despite it all. Shh. And if Jim gets himself gnawed on by a giant croc... Y/N will let him in immediately, no questions asked!

~

Tags: @masqueradeball

VSAnaconda!Jim Bickerman x ExWife!Reader || Drabble

"Jesus christ Jim, I- Where's your hook??" When he just kind of mutters something with a mad grin (The only word you made out was elepants), you want to smack yourself. He's lost so much blood he's probably seeing elephants in your living room right now. If he even recognises your livingroom. "Come on- Sit down, sit down, sit down." You sit him down on the couch then step over his legs and rush to grab the medical kit; Your heart racing.

This man- is insane. You honestly think that he must be part mutant, you swear. Or he's just really stubborn. Either way though, he needs to be tested. Maybe the government will pay you for him.

Not that you're frustrated, though- you're glad he is what he is, because otherwise he would be 6 feet under ground and that would break your heart. But, still... damn. Returning to the living room with the kit, you quickly step over his legs again, stretched out under the coffee table, so that you can set up next to him.

Flicking the kit open, you immediately grab out wipes, surgical sutures, and betadine. In his delirious state he still manages to put his good hand on your knee and squeeze- forcing you to pause. You take a deep breath, and glare at his face. A gentle glare. Some bite to it, sharp, but mostly just fond.

"... Goddamnit Jim, don't make me miss that." Leaving the hand there, you shift slightly to get closer to him, using your teeth to rip the wipe packet open. Spitting it off to the side, you pick it out. "Stay with me, alright?"

"'Right... "

~

That night you think you got a good... 3 hour of interrupted sleep? You were constantly getting up to check that his bleeding hadn't started again, or that he was breathing, and then to chat with him when started to come back; Just to keep him awake.

Turns out he went back to Blackwater- shocker. When you glared at him he just shrugged and gave a weak laugh.

Yawning, you sit down next to him again for the millionth time that night, and hand him a mug as you cover your mouth with your empty hand. You watch him take it and peer into it, look unsure, sniff it, and look even more unsure. "Sweetheart... what is this?"

"Rum." You say quickly, managing a straight face.

He looks at you like, 'oh really?', like he's suggesting that you're a liar - which you are, its just water, - , and you nod. "You're not lying to me for my health or something silly like that?"

"I would never."

"Mhmm... " Still suspicious, Jim takes a gulp- and immediately makes a disappointed face; Settling down against the cushions behind them stained blood red as you give a grin. "Ugh- betrayal."

"And you will drink it all." You say sternly, crossing your legs and sitting up straighter. "You lost a lotta blood; You need it. Doctor says."

There's a tiny grin in the corner of his mouth despite getting bossed around, rolling his eyes. "Oh, fine... if doctor says... "

As he watches your TV, gradually finishing the mug of water, you cant seem to take your eyes off of him. Watching carefully for any ripped stitches or signs of internal bleeding... wondering if he's too cold still, because he was ice cold to the touch when he got here and despite the blanket he accepted from you you're still concerned he may get sick on top of this, considering taking him to the hospital despite the bill you're bound to get stuck with, worrying about him leaving on his own later.

You know he has to, he doesn't live here and he cant start - you love him, you do. You think he's the only person in the world who can make you so happy, and he probably is. But he's also insane, and a pain in the ass that you just could never live with no matter how hard you tried, - but that doesn't mean you stop worrying.

"You know~... Staring is rude, pumpkin."

"I am looking at you in a completely professional sense. I am your doctor." You insist, a slow grin spreading across your face.

"Mhm, sure you are." Turning his head from the screen to set you with a mischievous glare to which you rolled your eyes an finally looked away.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna kiss you." Its true. That look from Jim has made you kiss him before, and other things besides- and you don't need that right now.

"Ah, well, for fairness sweetheart if you remember- I'm not the one who stopped that." There's a pang in your heart at that, because its true; Jim never wanted to break up and he's consistent in reminding you that it was a mistake on your part - and he's waiting for you to come back, - , but you just sigh, shaking your head.

"Drink your water, old man"

Slowly he looks away from you again, touching the mug to his mouth with a cheeky twinkle in his eye. "... Yes ma'am."

From under the blanket his good hand slips carefully and sets on your thigh, and you sigh again; Crossing your arms.

But you don't remove it.

[daydreamerdrew]

Daredevil (1964) #163

[baileypie-writes]

~The Smile Pretty Cure With a Sunshine Villain Friend~

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

Fandom: Smile Pretty Cure!

Fanfic Type: Headcanons

Reader: Gender neutral, a villain

Relationship: Platonic

Characters Included: Miyuki Hoshizora/Cure Happy, Akane Hino/Cure Sunny, Yayoi Kise/Cure Peace, Nao Midorikawa/Cure March, Reika Aoki/Cure Beauty

Genre: Minor angst?

Word Count: 1,640

Warnings: Mentions of Akane and Nao being cold towards Reader, possibly OOC Nao

Requested By: @kaymerx

~Masterlists~

~Smile Pretty Cure! Masterlist~

‼️Glitter Force stans DNI‼️

~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~🎀~~~

~Miyuki Hoshizora/Cure Happy~

~~~💖~~~💖~~~💖~~~

~ Miyuki is completely stunned when she found out you were a villain. How could someone as sweet and happy as you be evil? It just didn’t make any sense to her.

Miyuki: “You’re from Bad End? Really?”

(name): “Yup. I’m working to revive Pierrot.”

Miyuki: “But… how? You’re so nice!”

~ Despite the two of you being on opposite sides, she still continues to be your friend. When it’s not something Pretty Cure related, why should she care who you work for? She honestly forgets you’re fighting for Pierrot most of the time.

Nao: “Miyuki, stop hanging out with (last name)!”

Miyuki: “Huh? Why?”

Nao: “What do you mean ‘why’? They’re a bad guy!”

Miyuki: “Oh yeah! I completely forgot!”

Nao: “How?!”

~ Miyuki always sees the good in you. This isn’t hard for her, because she truly believes you’re already mostly good. You just need some convincing! And then hopefully, you’ll switch to the good side!

Nao: “Don’t you think we try to get (name) to turn good?”

Miyuki: “But they’re already good!”

Nao: “No, I mean get them to switch sides.”

Miyuki: “Oh! Yeah! I don’t think it’ll be too hard. They’re already so nice!”

~ Cure Happy really gives up to her name whenever you help them out in battle. She knew you weren’t all bad! This just proves to her that you can be redeemed. You go out of your way to help the people you care about, as well as the innocent. That’s definitely good guy material!

(name): “What are you doing, Akanbe? We don’t hurt the bystanders!”

Cure Happy: “Awww! You’re so kind!”

(name): “Not really, I just have common sense. Those people’s only purpose is giving negative energy. Why hurt them further?”

Cure Happy: “That’s still nice! Kind of!”

~~~💖~~~💖~~~💖~~~

~Akane Hino/Cure Sunny~

~~~🔥~~~🔥~~~🔥~~~

~ Akane was very disappointed when she found out you were from Bad End. She thought you were so cool! But it didn’t matter to her what she thought. You’re a villain, so she had to treat you like one.

Akane: “(last name)? The nice one? From Bad End? You’ve gotta be pullin’ my leg!”

Reika: “I’m afraid I’m not, Akane.”

Akane: “Wow. I guess everyone has their secrets. Well, guess I won’t be gettin’ too close to them.”

~ She tried avoiding you as much as possible. It hurt, but she felt as if she had to. She couldn’t let herself be friends with you. People would give her weird looks for this. How could anyone ignore someone as sweet as you? But in the end, she cares about you, so her attempts didn’t work; she still ended up hanging out with you.

(name): “Hey, Akane!”

Akane: “It’s ‘Hino’. We’re not on first name basis yet.”

Akane’s teammate: “Wow, Akane! Rude much?”

Akane: “What? It’s true.”

~ From then on, she began doing what Miyuki does. Unless it’s something Pretty Cure related, she just treats you like any other friend. It was much easier than she thought. After all, she never would’ve guessed you were a villain in the first place.

(name): “What’s this?”

Akane: “Okonomiyaki. My family makes it at our restaurant.”

(name): “Ooh! It looks so good!”

Akane: “You bet it is. But it’s just for you. So don’t let those other Bad End people have any, okay?”

(name): “Okay! Thanks Akane!”

~ Cure Sunny gets very cocky when you help her and the others out in battles. You’ll always get at least one little tease from her about you being good after all. It’s worse when you help her out specifically.

Akane: “Oh, what’s this? So you’re finally switching sides, huh?”

(name): “No. I just don’t want my friends getting hurt.”

Akane: “Yeah, that’s definitely not something a villain would say.”

(name): “Well then I guess I’m a special villain!”

~~~🔥~~~🔥~~~🔥~~~

~Yayoi Kise/Cure Peace~

~~~⚡️~~~⚡️~~~⚡️~~~

~ Yayoi was very dejected when she found out about you. You really left a good impression on her when she first met you. You’re so kind, it was just unbelievable to her. She felt lucky that she’s shy, so she didn’t get too close to you before finding out.

Yayoi: “What? (last name)’s from Bad End? There’s no way… they’re so nice to me…”

Reika: “I’m sorry Yayoi. But I’m afraid it’s true.”

Yayoi: “Man… that sucks.”

~ Even though she knew you’re technically bad, she couldn’t help but talk to you. You compliment her drawings all the time, what was she supposed to do? Not thank you? She found herself becoming friends with you against her will. But it’s not like she tried too hard to stop it.

(name): “Wow, Yayoi! You’re such a talented artist! You could totally be a mangaka!”

(Mangaka: A manga artist)

Yayoi: “Really? I don’t think they’re that good…”

(name): “Don’t say that! You’re the best artist I know!”

~ Just like Miyuki, she doesn’t bring Pretty Cure business into unrelated things. She tries her best to stick up for you when someone brings up your status as a villain. She just hates unnecessary conflict.

Nao: “Yayoi, why do you still hang out with (last name)?”

Yayoi: “Because they’re a good friend.”

Nao: “Do ‘good friends’ wanna bring the world a bad ending?”

Yayoi: “Please, Nao! Leave that out of this! We’re not Pretty Cure right now!”

(name): “Please don’t cry Yayoi…”

~ It always brings Cure Peace joy when you help out. Whether it be protecting them or the innocent, it truly makes her believe in you as a friend. No one who’s actually bad would care about those things.

Cure Peace: “Look at them! Protecting the opposite side like that, they’re so cool!”

Cure Sunny: “I think they’re just in denial.”

Cure Peace: “Whatever. It’s still awesome!”

~~~⚡️~~~⚡️~~~⚡️~~~

~Nao Midorikawa/Cure March~

~~~🍃~~~🍃~~~🍃~~~

~ Nao was definitely mad when she discovered you were a villain. She felt betrayed. You acted so nice towards her and everyone else. Was it all just an act? She was even more upset when she realized it wasn’t. Why would you act so kind when you a part of a group who wasn’t?

Nao: “Can you drop the act?”

(name): “What act?”

Nao: “Your whole ‘happy sunshine’ act.”

(name): “It’s not an act though.”

Nao: “C’mon, it has to be. There’s no way someone like you can be so sweet.”

~ She tried her very best to avoid you, and to get the others to do the same. She got very annoyed when they became best buds with you. But it was only a matter of time before your caring nature pulled her in as well.

(name): “Want some of my lunch, Midorikawa? I’m not very hungry.”

Nao: “Sure. Thanks, (name).”

(name): *gasp* “You called me by my first name!”

Nao: “Oh. I guess I did.”

(name): “So does that mean I can call you by yours?”

Nao: “I guess so.”

~ She decided that since she couldn’t avoid a friendship with you, she would try converting you to the Pretty Cure’s side. And boy, does she try her hardest. Any good deed you do, she mentions how nice it must feel. It’s a small encouragement to leave your title as a villain behind.

Nao: “Sorry, my siblings can be a bit much.”

(name): “It’s no problem! They’re fun to be with!”

Nao: “Yeah. It’s too bad you’re gonna bring the world to a bad ending though. If you don’t, you can play with them as much as you want.”

~ Cure March only gets worse when you defend others during battles. She goes on and on about his you’d make a great hero, and how you’re kind of wasting your potential. Being as nice as you are, you don’t fight. But to her, that means she’s getting to you.

Cure March: “You’ve got such quick reflexes! That’s a good trait to have as a Pretty Cure!”

(name): “But I’m not a Pretty Cure.”

Cure March: “But you could be!”

(name): “Oh March…”

~~~🍃~~~🍃~~~🍃~~~

~Reika Aoki/Cure Beauty~

~~~❄️~~~❄️~~~❄️~~~

~ Reika was the first one to find out about your “occupation”. Naturally, she’s also the one who told everyone. She lets everyone do what they like about the situation, as long as they’re able to fight you when the time comes. For her personally, she avoided you as much as possible, but still didn’t act cold towards you.

Reika: “I know that you’re a member of Bad End, (last name).”

(name): “Oh…”

Reika: “I have you know that I will have to tell the others.”

(name): “Yeah… I guess that’s fair.”

~ When she did end up becoming friends with you, she couldn’t help but feel a tad guilty. But she figured that as long as she’s not helping you, it should be okay. However, she still lets you know that she wouldn’t hesitate to fight you.

Reika: “You don’t have plans to steal negative energy today, do you?”

(name): “No, not today. I did it last time.”

Reika: “Okay. Just know that I’m always ready.”

~ She agrees with Nao about trying to get you to the good side. But she’s much less pushy about it. She simply asks you about it once in a while, asking if you’re sure about the side you’re on. Once you’ve stated your answer, she’ll leave you alone for a while.

Reika: “Are you sure about your current position, (name)?”

(name): “Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry, Reika, but this is the path I’ve chosen.”

Reika: “I see.”

~ Whenever you help the Pretty Cure out, Cure Beauty seizes the opportunity to fight alongside you. She sees it as a sneaky way to hopefully get you to inch closer to being good. And she always makes sure to thank you afterwards. Of course, she’s being sincere, but she’s also trying to give you an extra nudge.

Cure Beauty: “Thank you so much for your help, (name).”

(name): “It was nothing. I just don’t want my friends to be destroyed.”

Cure Beauty: “Yes. That’s a good thing.”

~~~❄️~~~❄️~~~❄️~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[gaypirate420]

Kaleidoscope // Viktor

S2!Viktor x gender neutral!reader.

Summary: You're staring at his eyes.

Fluff. Spoilers!!!!

Viktor stares at his hand, that purple flowing and metallic skin. He just healed? Cured? an addict from the undercity, his mismatched pupils look up.

At you.

You followed behind when he left Jayce's lab, you were too determined and he didn't fight as hard as he wanted, in other times he would tell you to stay with Jayce, stay safe. He didn't keep you away from the Hexcore without reason, but he couldn't fight, as much as his mind was screaming at him, he just nodded monotonously after a couple of pleas.

Your eyes meet his, you sit down in front of him, whimpering slightly, after the explosion of the Council left you with an injured leg.

His eyes dart back down, he could just reach out and you wouldn't be in pain anymore but he closes his fingers and lowers his hand to his lap. He needs to understand a little more about this new... identity of his before he even attempts to touch you in any sort of way, he doesn't want to risk it. Sky disappeared in front of him like dust in the wind, he can't do that to you.

You smiled softly. His furrowed eyebrows soften.

"How are you feeling?" You asked with a soft whisper. He sighs, his eyes don't leave yours, in one hand he isn't feeling pain, that ache, that little needle-like sensation that infested his leg and back since he had memory. But on the other hand, he doesn't feel much, he isn't scared but also not happy, he isn't completely aware of what is happening but he is not mindless.

You keep looking at him, that smile doesn't falter and that is comforting. You're not scared of him not even after what you just saw.

"I don't know." He answers, there's a small shiver down your back, his speech pattern has changed, it's slow and monotone but there's some sparkles of emotions in it, it's not like he has talked much for you to completely understand yet.

You nod at his words, God you were so patient with him, always have been.

Your eyes don't leave his, the amber eyes he held are nowhere to be found, now a duller color replaces them but there's this drop of cyan, maybe crimson at times that moves around the two irises.

"Is there something wrong?" He asks, you shake your head.

"Nothing wrong, Vitya. I'm just looking at your eyes." You speak softly, scooting a little closer towards him.

Vitya.

His lips twitch ever so slightly, yes he is your Vitya, at least he thinks he is and you don't seem to look at him any differently, there's still that deep affection in your eyes, of course there is worry in your gaze, but the devoted love remains.

"What's with them?" He speaks again.

"They're different..." You whispered as you leaned your face closer. He doesn't move, he remembers the feeling, after years of being with you his heart still went wild when you approached, but now it's dull, but it's there. He knows it is, it's just a little distant, just in the tip of his fingers.

"Like- copper...but...there's this- bleeding of color.." You whispered as your eyes fixated on his, you were so close. Your breath against his face, lips near that beauty mark you loved to kiss.

"Like a kaleidoscope." You whispered, you didn't pull away, you missed having him so close. Viktor nods at your words, he hasn't seen himself fully yet.

You two stare at each other for a couple of seconds. Your hand hesitantly reaches up and cups his face, muscle memory is a hell of a thing, he immediately nuzzles his face against your hand. It's familiar yet he feels like this is the first time touching you.

He feels you. Not just your gentle hand or soft skin, you. It's a different kind of touch, like he's touching your soul, your very being.

You contain your excitement. He is still there. You smiled softly. His eyes flutter as he feels a faint sensation of your lips against his beauty mark.

He stays silent. It was dull, like a ghost touched him yet like every star in the sky placed a kiss upon his face.

"Will you do that again, please?" He whispers, meeting your eyes once more.

A/N: (Divider) Hiiii, hope you like this, I wasn't sure about writing something so fast, but I needed to get rid of the feeling. I loved Act 1, it was worth staying up til 5 am, Viktor has bewitched my soul completely, I don't have a lot of opinions, just questions, I'm going to wait until the whole season is over to talk about it and the characters. Enjoy the fic! Send requests please.

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - NINE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of leukemia; death; pregnancy; abortion.

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe had been through a ton of traumatic bullshit by the age of fourteen. 

His mom had been battling leukemia since he was ten, it started off as an infection—but it turned into one of those long, drawn-out wars that tricks you into thinking there’s hope when there isn’t.

It would go away for a bit, just enough to make everyone think the fight was over, and then it’d come slamming back worse every time.

When he was fourteen, it finally took her for good, when he’d been silly enough to believe she might pull through. 

To be fair, he was only a little kid waiting on a miracle, praying she’d wake up one day magically cured.

Now, when he looked back on it, he hated himself for being so naive. The signs had been there all along, the nurses whispering in the hallways, Ward turning into this void of a human, who looked at him like he didn’t know how to fix it anymore. The talks his mom would have with him about how “no matter what happens, you’ll be okay.”

That phrase haunted him for years.

Her death didn’t wreck him; it tore him apart and left him in tiny pieces that didn’t fit together the same way. He wasn’t the same kid afterward, not even close.

He got angrier, distant. 

He didn’t recognize who he’d been before it all—some kid who really believed in happy endings.

He didn’t believe in much after she died, people let you down, life ripped everything good out of your hands. Why bother holding on to anything at all?

It wasn’t just the grief; it was the guilt.

He’d get mad at her, sometimes, for being sick. He’d slam his door and cry into his pillow because he just wanted a normal life, a mom who wasn’t always tired or in pain or hooked up to some machine.

He hated himself for that. 

The day of her funeral, he remembered everything, even though he wished he didn’t. The church smelled like old wood and lilies, that smell that never left you once it sank in.

People kept coming up to him, patting his shoulder, saying things like, “She’s in a better place now,” or “Stay strong, buddy.” 

He wanted to yell at them, shake them, make them shut up. She wasn’t in a better place. A better place would’ve been here, alive, laughing at his dumb jokes, or rolling her eyes at him for leaving his shoes in the hallway. It wouldn’t be six feet under, locked in a box, shoved into a hole in the ground like she never existed.

He didn’t cry, not when they opened the casket for everyone to say their final goodbyes, not when his dad stood up and choked through some half-assed speech that was mostly apologies and memories, not when they lowered her into the ground, the ropes creaking as her casket disappeared into the earth. 

He just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring straight ahead, as if he wasn’t even present. Inside, though?

His his chest was on fire. 

He refused to let even a single tear fall, it felt pointless, it wasn’t going to bring her back. It wasn’t going to fix anything. And deep down, he thought he didn’t deserve to cry, if he’d been stronger if he’d prayed harder, or been a better son, she’d still be alive.

The sound he remembered the most was the thud of dirt hitting the coffin after the service. It was final, loud, the earth itself mocking him. People around him sniffled, hugged each other, wiped at their eyes, but Rafe just stood there, staring down into the hole, fists buried in his pockets until his nails dug into his palms. 

He kept thinking about how wrong this all was, this wasn’t where she was supposed to end up, and none of this was fair.

She should’ve been there.

She should’ve been standing next to him, arm around his shoulder, telling him to stop slouching, whispering something to make him laugh in the middle of all this sadness. Instead, she was in there, soon the dirt would cover it up, and that’d be it. 

Gone. Just like that.

After the service, Rafe didn’t try to stick around for the house gathering, he wasn’t going to survive that. All those people crowding the living room, balancing paper plates of casserole, acting like they gave a fuck about his mom. It was fake, all of it. 

They’d forget about her in a week.

He slipped out when no one was paying attention, cutting through the side yard and heading to the only place that felt halfway normal—the old skate park behind the rec center. It was run-down as fuck, but he and his friends used to hang out there all the time, sitting on the busted ramps, talking trash, or just doing nothing.

When he got there, it was empty, which was exactly what he wanted. He climbed up on the old half-pipe, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees, staring at the cracked pavement below. 

He couldn’t stop replaying the day in his head, the casket, the dirt, the stupid better place comments. His chest felt like it was breaking in a million tiny pieces, but he still couldn’t cry, his body just wouldn’t let him. 

Instead, he just sat there, wishing the world would leave him alone for five minutes.

That’s when he heard footsteps behind him.

He thought about running—didn’t need anyone seeing him like this, especially not now. But then you spoke.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

He didn’t look at you right away, just exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah? Well, congrats. You win the prize.” 

He wasn’t in the mood to be nice, even to you.

But you didn’t flinch, you never did. That’s one of the things he liked about you—you didn’t get scared off when he got like this. You just climbed up next to him and sat down. 

You didn’t try to say all that comforting bullshit people had been feeding him all day, and he was grateful for that.

“You okay?” you asked eventually.

He snorted. “Do I look okay?”

"Sorry, stupid question."

He sighed, hating that he was being asshole to his best friend, "It's fine."

When he finally glanced at you, you were watching him, trying to figure out what to say. It made him nervous, the way you looked at him. You always did that—you cared about what was going on in his head, you saw more than what he let people see.

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I know what you’re feeling,” you said finally. “But you don’t have to do this alone, Rafe. You know that, right?”

If only you knew what you would be going through just three short years later.

He wanted to snap at you, tell you to leave, he was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stared down at the pavement again, “Feels like I do.”

You didn’t say anything, just moved closer, close enough that your arm brushed against his. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel…something, less alone.

Rafe didn’t know how long you both sat there, could’ve been ten minutes, could’ve been an hour. Time didn’t feel real anymore, you didn’t push him to talk, which he appreciated more than he’d ever admit, you didn’t throw out any of those awkward “it’ll get better” lines. You just sat with him. 

“You can talk to me, you know.” 

He shook his head without looking at you. “There’s nothing to say.” His voice was rough, flat. “She’s gone. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t suck."

He clenched his jaw, staring at the pavement like if he looked at you, everything would break.

“What’s the point?” he muttered. “Crying’s not gonna change anything. It’s not gonna—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to force it back.

“Rafe.” You sighed, and this time “You don’t have to hold it together for anyone, okay? It’s me.”

That broke him, actually broke him. His chest felt tight, suddenly he couldn’t keep it in.

His breath hitched, his shoulders shook, and before he knew it, tears were sliding down his face. He tried to stop it, to hide it, scrubbing his hands over his face, but it was no use.

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice cracking once more.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, and before he could pull away or do something stupid like tell you to leave, you scooted over.

He froze for a second, unsure what to do, but then he remembered the funeral, the whispers, the dirt hitting the casket, all the things he couldn’t stop thinking about—he just let it all out.

The first sob ripped out of him so suddenly it startled him, he hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his hair, as if he could physically stop himself from breaking. But it didn’t work.

Another sob followed, and then another, and soon they were pouring out of him—loud, messy, completely out of his control. He couldn’t stop it, and he hated it.

He leaned into you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, and just cried. When he felt your arms instantly wrap around him, pulling him into a hug as if you’d been waiting for his permission, he shattered completely.

“She’s—” His voice caught in his throat, and he had to stop, gasping for air as the tears kept coming. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and I—” He broke off.

It was ugly and loud and nothing like how he’d pictured himself breaking down, but he didn’t care. You didn’t tell him it’d be okay or try to make him stop, just held him, your arms tight around him. 

“I miss her,” he whispered, his voice so small it barely sounded like him. “I miss her so much, and I—I don’t know what to do.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this, and part of him hated how exposed it made him feel. He hated crying in front of people—anyone. But right now, with you, he didn’t feel embarrassed. 

“I know,” you nodded, your hand moving in small circles on his back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I—” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I can’t—this isn’t—it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” you didn’t want to scare away the fragile pieces of him that were finally surfacing. “It’s not fair. None of it is.”

He couldn’t stop shaking or gasping for breaths that hitched in his chest. The more he tried to push it all backdown, the harder it fought to claw its way out. For years, he’d kept it buried—buried so deep he thought he’d never have to deal with it.

“I hate it,” he managed, the words tumbling out in a jagged mess. “I hate that she’s gone. I hate that I didn’t—” He stopped, gripping his hair harder. “I didn’t do enough. I should’ve been better, done something—anything.”

“Stop. You can’t do that to yourself.”

He shook his head violently, “But I did. I gave up on her. I stopped believing she’d get better, I—I got mad at her for being sick. What kind of son does that? I didn’t even say goodbye the way I should’ve. I just—I left the hospital because I couldn’t take it anymore, and then she—” His voice cracked again, and his hands dropped from his hair to his lap, clenched into fists “She’s gone, and I left. I wasn’t there when she—” His breath hitched, and he buried his face in his hands.

“You’re a kid. It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is.”

“But it feels like it is,” he shot back, “I should’ve done something, anything. I just feel so—” He stopped, letting out a shaky exhale. “Empty. Like nothing I do matters anymore.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The way you said it, so certain—He didn’t know why, but it cut through the noise in his head just enough to let him breathe again.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” he admitted, “I don’t know how t-to live without her.”

Growing up, Rafe had always been a momma’s boy. 

She was his safe place—the one person who didn’t make him feel like he had to be someone else. With her, he didn’t have to try so damn hard to be tough, or perfect, or whatever the hell his dad wanted him to be. 

Ward wasn’t the kind of dad who let his kids cry on his shoulder or told them he loved them every day. No, Ward was the kind of dad who believed in rules.

Men didn’t cry. Men didn’t show weakness. Men didn’t mess up—or, if they did, they sure as hell didn’t admit it.

He expected Rafe to follow those rules like they were gospel.

The worst part? His rules about what it meant to be a man stuck with Rafe, even when he didn’t want them to. When his mom got sick, he found himself choking back tears in the hospital bathroom, staring at his reflection and hearing Ward’s voice in his head: “Crying doesn’t solve anything. You’ve gotta be strong, for her, for your sisters.”

He had this idea in his head of what Rafe was supposed to be—strong, dependable, successful. He didn’t yell or lose his temper like some dads back then, he just made him feel like shit in this fucked up way.

Rafe tried, shit, he’d tried, but it felt impossible.

Every time he looked at his mom, pale and tired but still managing to smile at him like he was her whole world, he felt like he was dying too, then he’d feel guilty—for being so weak, for wanting to break down when she was the one fighting for her life.

It didn’t help that Ward had always had a soft spot for Sarah. Everyone could see it, even Rafe. She was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, the one Ward went out of his way to protect. 

If Rafe screwed up, it was a lecture or a punishment, but if Sarah did? Ward would just shake his head and say, “She’s still young. She’ll learn.”

It used to piss him off more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he hated her—she was his sister, and he loved her. But how could he not resent her? He felt invisible when she got all the attention and the understanding, while he was expected to man up and deal with it.

After her funeral, things changed.

Rafe became quicker to snap, to walk away from anything that felt too hard. He was only himself around you, behind closed doors, never for preying eyes. Sarah grew colder, retreating into her own world where everything was controlled and distant.

Every time they spoke, it ended in shouting matches, slamming doors, or long stretches of silence that neither of them attempted to solve.

Except when you were there.

Ward got even colder, the grief had frozen whatever part of him used to care. He threw himself into work, making sure Sarah was okay, and barely even looked at his son. When he did, it was usually to tell him to pull it together, or to stop being so “moody.”

Rafe started to wonder if he even cared that he was falling apart, if he ever noticed the nights Rafe stayed out too late or came home smelling like booze. If he saw the way he avoided talking to him, how he flinched whenever Ward brought up his mom. But if his dad noticed, he never said anything. 

He thought it was just Rafe being Rafe—angry, unpredictable, a disappointment.

Fast forward to the present, and he hadn’t felt this helpless since that day at the funeral, not even when Ward’s died four months ago. 

You weren’t in his life anymore—hadn’t been for a while and you were possibly pregnant. 

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but it made sense, everything lined up with that possibility. He thought back to everything you’d been through together, the times you’d been there for him when no one else was, how you’d seen the pieces of him no one else cared to.

Now, you were having his kid—and he was hearing about it from Topper?

Rafe spent the first hour after Topper dropped the news pacing his bedroom like a caged animal, his heart wouldn’t stop racing and he felt like a ticking time bomb. 

The Rafe—the one who flew off the handle, yelled, broke things, and pushed people away—was begging to get out. But Topper’s voice kept replaying in his head, he had to act right, be calm, for your sake. To prove himself.

The problem was, that staying calm wasn’t his strong suit. 

He’d spent years burying every emotion he couldn’t control under layers of anger, and now he was supposed to sit with the hurricane in his chest and figure out how to make things right. 

For the first time in a long time, he realized he didn’t even know where to start.

That night, he locked himself in his room, ignoring his phone, his friends, everyone. None of it mattered anymore, the only thing he could think about was you—and the baby. 

He spent hours pacing, running his hands through his hair, trying to think of what the fuck he was going to say.

What was he gonna say after everything he’d put you through? After the fight, the distance, the way he’d shut you out when you’d been nothing but good to him until that point?

He sat down on the edge of his bed, head still in his hands, and let himself feel everything he’d been avoiding. The fear, the regret, the anger at himself. He thought about you—how you used to look at him like he wasn’t just a mess of a person, you’d stuck by him even when he’d given you every reason to leave.

You weren’t here anymore.

He’d pushed you so far away you hadn’t even told him about the situation yourself. Why would you anyway? He ghosted you and the next time you saw him he was with someone else. He could still see the look on your face when you saw him that night—arms slung casually around Sofia, while you sat in your car, eyes wild, you hadn’t tried to step outside, hadn’t yelled or made a scene, you simply drove off. 

It wasn’t until an hour later and terrible text message to you, that drunk and pissed at himself, he realized just how badly he’d screwed up. But by then, the damage was done, and he’d been too much of a coward to fix it. What followed was a sea of bad decisions and nights he couldn’t remember, trying to drown out the ache of losing you. 

He’d been drinking for Ward’s death until that point, now he did it for you.

Everything was catching up to him—the way he let his dad’s voice in his head drown out his own, making him let you slip through his fingers.

He didn’t deserve you—he knew that.

By sunrise, Rafe was still wide awake, sitting on the floor of his room surrounded by half-crumpled pieces of paper. He’d been trying to write down what he wanted to say to you, but everything sounded wrong. He’d never been good with words, not the kind that mattered.

He wasn’t a dad, wasn’t even close to being the kind of guy who could be a dad. 

What the fuck did he know about raising a kid? Changing diapers? Teaching someone right from wrong? Being patient? But the thought of you—of you carrying his kid—hit him differently.

At first, it had been pure panic. You hated him, what if you didn’t want him involved? What if he was just like Ward—cold, distant, always expecting too much? What if he screwed the kid up the same way he felt like he’d been screwed up? 

He pictured it without meaning to: you holding a tiny bundle in your arms, your face soft in a way he hadn’t seen in so long. A kid with your smile, your laugh—but his eyes. Or his messy hair. It scared the shit out of him.

What if she doesn’t even want to keep it?

Rafe hadn’t let himself go there at first, it was a lot to wrap his head around, the idea that there might not even be a child to fight for. 

The thought of you going through this, struggling to make a choice that he couldn’t help with, made him feel useless. 

Frustrated, he grabbed his keys and headed out, needing to clear his head. The island was silent this early, the kind of calm that used to make him feel trapped, but now, though, it was a relief. He drove aimlessly for a while, the salty air whipping through the open windows, until he found himself parked at the beach.

He didn’t know why he’d come here—well, you’d always bring him here when he spiraled. He sat there, watching the waves crash against the shore, feeling a weird sort of clarity that he hadn’t felt in months. 

Perhaps it was the silence, or the way the ocean didn’t care about all the fucking mess in his head, but something about it made him stop spiraling for a second.

He started to think about what Topper had said—not just about staying calm, but about proving to you that he still cared. That wasn’t something he could do with words alone, not after everything. He’d have to show you, he’d have to be the version of himself you used to believe in, the one who wasn’t ruled by his worst impulses.

Rafe knew the first step before he could even think about talking to you: he had to end things with Sofia. They weren’t official, but they might as well have been. 

People talked, made assumptions, and sure, he’d let them. It was easier that way—less explaining, less having to deal with the uncomfortable truth that he’d only been with her to fill the empty space you left behind. It was cruel, but at the time, he hadn’t cared. 

Sofia wasn’t you, but she was there, and more importantly, she didn’t expect anything from him. Keeping things going with her wasn’t just a bad idea; it was disrespectful. To you, to her, to himself. He couldn’t pretend he cared about her like that—not when his heart had never really left your orbit.

When he showed up at her place that morning before work, she didn’t seem surprised—not even a little. She’d seen the writing on the wall for weeks now, but tonight, seeing him standing there, just confirmed what she already knew.

She watched him like she was waiting for him to get to the point, but not impatiently—just resigned, she already knew what he was about to say.

“Can I come in?” 

She let him in without a word, she wasn’t mad, not really. If anything, she felt sad—mostly for him, a little for herself. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this without sounding like the worst person alive?

“You okay?” she asked quietly, she wasn’t being polite—she was trying to read him, figure out where this was going.

Rafe didn’t sit, didn’t take off his jacket. He stayed standing, hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to find the words that wouldn’t make this worse. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you about something. 

She raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing together in a tight line. “Be honest.”

“This...this isn’t fair to you,” he started, his words tumbling out fast, “I should’ve been real with you from the start, but I wasn't," He swallowed hard, “You deserve better than me using you to forget someone else.”

Sofia didn’t say anything at first, just crossed her arms loosely, not making it easy for him, but she wasn’t making it harder, either.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this,” he continued, forcing himself to look at her. “It feels wrong and it’s not because of you. You’re great. You’ve been...you’ve been more patient with me than I deserve.”

Her lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that wasn’t quite happy but wasn’t cruel either. “But you’re still in love with her.”

He didn’t know why it shocked him—Sofia had always been perceptive—but hearing her say it out loud made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“I—” He hesitated, but there was no point in denying it. “Yeah.”

“I knew,” She nodded like she’d been waiting for that confirmation. “I figured. I told myself it didn’t matter because—because I thought maybe you’d move on. Maybe I could help you move on. But you didn’t, and I—” She pressed her lips together, shaking her head as her arms tightened around herself.

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged, the movement almost casual. 

“Because I really like you,” she admitted, “I knew. The party? When you got blackout drunk after seeing her leave? Or the country club, when you nearly started a fight defending her? I know you drove her to the hospital too. I kept hoping—God, I kept hoping you’d see me, that you’d let me be enough.”

He’d known she cared—he wasn’t blind—but hearing her saying like that made him realize just how he fucked up. She wasn’t wrong. He had been trying to numb himself, to drown out the reality of losing you, and she had been the collateral damage.

He looked away, guilt twisting in his chest. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“No,” she agreed, her tone firm but not unkind. “It wasn’t, but I don’t think you meant to hurt me either, you were trying to hurt yourself. It's still stupid of me to try, knowing you need to figure your shit out, but you don’t have to end things. I know what I signed up for, Rafe. I’m not asking you to choose me over her—I’m just asking you to try."

There was no anger in her voice, no bitterness—just exhaustion. It made him feel like a piece of shit because she deserved to feel angry, to lash out at him. But instead, she was still trying to give him a way out, a way to make this easier on himself.

“I’ll take whatever part of you I can get.”

It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was resigned. She already knew the answer, but she couldn’t help saying it out loud.

Rafe shook his head, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You deserve someone who can give you everything. That’s not me.”

“Why not?” she pressed, her tone insistent.

“Because all of me already belongs to her,” Rafe admitted, his voice breaking at the end. “It always has, it always will.”

Sofia blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise, but she didn’t look hurt—just...sad. She nodded slowly, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I hope she knows what she has, and I pray you show her," She stood up and motioning toward the door. “We both deserve better than a guy who drinks himself to death after seeing her at a party. So do you.”

Rafe didn’t move right away, unsure if he should say something more, apologize again, explain himself better. 

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

“Don’t thank me,” she replied, “Just do better.”

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long,” he confessed, “I just—I didn’t know how to stop.”

Her expression softened just enough to show the tiniest sliver of empathy. “For what is worth, I think she still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now.” She paused, her hand resting on the doorknob, but she didn’t turn around, “Next time, please don’t do this to someone else, and don’t do it to her again, either.”

She still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. The faint possibility, that you might still love him, it meant he had a chance but it also meant he could screw them up even worse.

He stood slowly, “Thank you,” he repeated,“For...everything.”

She didn’t look at him, but she nodded, opening the door and holding it for him. “Take care of yourself,” she said, and it wasn’t cold or angry—just sad.

By the time he got back to his car, he knew she wasn’t wrong, about any of it. 

She hadn’t screamed or cried or made him feel like the asshole he knew he was, that made it worse. If his mom was here, she would’ve smacked him across he head for hurting two amazing women at the same time. 

He hadn’t been ready to deal with his feelings for you—not when he started whatever the fuck it was with Sofia, not when he ran into you at that party, not when he defended you at the country club.

He’d been running, hiding, trying to bury everything under distractions that only made him feel emptier.

He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes, and for a moment, it was like he was fourteen again, sitting on the edge of his mom’s hospital bed while his mom teased him.

“Come on, sweetheart” she’d said, her voice playful, even through the weariness. “You’ve been talking about her birthday for weeks. I think you like her more than you’re letting on.”

Rafe’s head shot up, and his ears burned red. “Mooomm,” he groaned, dragging out the word, “it’s not like that, she’s my best friend.”

“She’s your pretty best friend,” she’d corrected, smiling at him in that knowing way only she could. “You’re gonna pick out something nice for her, right?”

“I already did,” he mumbled, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and holding it out like it was some great secret. Inside was a delicate bracelet he’d saved up for, something special, something he thought you’d like.

His mom’s smile had softened, the teasing fading into something more tender. 

“She’s lucky to have you,” she’d said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Even if you are a little knucklehead sometimes.”

He’d ducked away, embarrassed but secretly pleased, tucking the box back into his pocket.

“M’m not a knucklehead,” he complained, but she just laughed, and it was one of the last times he remembered hearing her laugh like that—free, unburdened, just his mom.

“She’s a good one. You’ve got good taste.” Her smile softened, and the teasing faded into something gentler. “I hope I’m still around when you get married. I’d love to see you happy like that.”

The words were a punch he hadn’t expected. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he even say to that? He wanted to argue, to tell her she would be, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

She knew. She always knew.

He just nodded, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Me too.”

She squeezed his hand. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said without thinking because he meant it.

“When you find that person—really find them—don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

He nodded again.

Years later, standing in a stupid fucking car alone, those words haunted him. He’d found that person, he’d had her and he’d let her go.

“God,” he muttered, the self-loathing reaching a new high, “I’m so sorry, mom.”

As terrifying as it was to think about being a dad, to think about raising a kid when he was still trying to figure out his own life… the idea of losing this chance—of losing you, or the baby, or both, for good —scared him even more.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt something close to hope, but it was tainted in so much fear and uncertainty, that he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The rest of the day, he forced himself to slow down. 

He went back home, cleaned up the disaster of a room he’d been holed up in, and tried to think like a normal guy instead of a walking disaster. He even let Topper come over, though his patience for his relentless commentary wore thin fast.

“You’ve got one shot at this, dude,” Topper said, perched on Rafe’s desk like he owned the place. “If you go in there guns blazing, she’s just gonna think you’re the same old Rafe. And honestly? You can’t blame her.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue, Topper was right, as annoying as it was to admit.

He spent the evening coming up with a plan—just enough to make sure he didn’t go in blind. He practiced what he’d say in his head, pacing the kitchen while the sun sank below the horizon. Every time he started to panic, he forced himself to breathe, to remember why he was doing this.

By the time 24 hours had passed, he didn’t feel ready, but he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. The thought of you sitting somewhere, thinking he really didn’t care or that he wouldn’t step up?

That was worse than any fear he had about facing you. So he grabbed his keys, and headed out, this time, he wasn’t running away.

Rafe stood by your door, he’d gotten in the property using the gate’s code, one he’d hoped you had changed to keep him out, but you hadn’t.

He’d never been good at patience, never needed to be—not when he could push his way into anything. But this was different, you were different, always had been.

The wood under his hand was cool, in a way that pissed him off because it reminded him that there was a barrier between you and him, again, always.

He wanted to scream, kick the fucking thing down like the old Rafe would’ve, or instead use the keys you’d given him years ago. Instead, he stood there, swallowing his pride because you were worth it, even if it was tearing himself in half.

His knuckles dragged down the frame, fist clenching as if the pressure would ground him, keep him from losing his shit. He wasn’t here to fight, wasn’t here to make your life harder, no matter how much you thought he was. 

The door rattled slightly when he pressed his forehead against it, eyes squeezing shut. “Five minutes. Please.”

Nothing.

His jaw worked, teeth grinding against the words he wanted to say but couldn’t, not if he wanted you to open the door. He couldn’t do this anymore—the back-and-forth, the lies. He wasn’t sure what broke first—your resolve or the knot in his throat. 

When you didn’t answer again, he sank to sit on the porch, back against the door like he could still feel you on the other side. You were there—close enough to touch if there wasn’t this fucking door between you.

That was his fault.

He used to be the guy you’d let in without thinking twice, shit, there was a time when he didn’t need to knock.

He was in, part of your life, part of you.

Now, you were holed up, scared of him. Yeah, that ate him alive. He’d earned that fear—every cold shoulder, the slammed door, he deserved it.

He should’ve been different, been better, been someone you didn’t have to lock out. You were scared, and it killed him because it wasn’t just fear, it was him. He was the reason you didn’t feel safe enough to let the secret out, the reason your voice cracked when you told him to leave.

He had put that look in your eyes, the one he couldn’t unsee, no matter how hard he tried.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He could almost hear you breathing, shakily, like you were preparing yourself to outlast him.

He wanted to push. Fuck, he wanted to shove the door open, make you look at him, make you tell him everything—but that was the old Rafe, he took what he wanted, and bulldozed through whatever stood in his way.

Where had that ever gotten him? Nowhere but here: on the wrong side of a door, the wrong side of you.

He exhaled, long and slow, hand falling limp to his side.

What the hell was he doing? Forcing his way in, forcing answers—that wasn’t going to fix this. It never did. You’d push harder, build the walls higher, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of you hating him more than you already did.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “I get it.”

He didn’t know if you could still hear him, perhaps you were blocking him out completely. Maybe you were curled up with your hands over your ears. He hoped you weren’t crying, though the thought twisted and turned something deep in him.

“I’m not gonna push you,” he said, hating how defeated he sounded. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He ran a hand down his face, swallowing hard, trying to keep it together.

“I just... I just want you to be okay.” He hesitated, then pressed his palm flat against the door, wishing he could reach you somehow, without scaring you, “Baby or not.”

He waited, hoping for something—a sound, a movement, anything, but the silence was absolute.

His heart clenched as he pushed off the door and took a step back, his shoes scraping against the porch. He didn’t want to leave, he never wanted to leave, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, almost to himself, "I'm so sorry. I’m sorry it took me this long, okay?”

He stopped halfway, looking back, hoping—praying—for some sign. A light flicking on, the sound of the door creaking open, your voice calling his name, anything.

But the house stayed still, it had already moved on from him. 

He didn’t remember deciding to drive to Poguelandia; he felt it in his gut, in the pit of his chest, this pounding certainty that Sarah knew something he didn’t. You wouldn’t tell him—but Sarah? You’d chosen her to drive you home from the hospital just a few days ago.

She was the only person that could lie to his face properly, he couldn’t fucking figure her out, she was always deflecting shit wherever they talked.

By the time he pulled up to the pogues’ little hideaway, the sky had darkened, the place lit only by the glow of string lights and the hum of voices inside. He sat in the truck for a second, staring at the house, willing himself to calm down.

Barging in—loud, pissed, impulsive—wasn’t going to get him what he needed. But fuck, it was hard not to.

He climbed out, slamming the door behind him with just enough force to feel better for half a second. The screen door creaked as he stepped up to the porch, and he could already hear them inside—Sarah’s laugh, JJ cracking some dumbass joke, the rest of them chiming in like they didn’t have a care in the world.

He hated this, hated how they all looked at him, as if he was some ticking time bomb ready to explode. They weren’t wrong.

Rafe knocked, hard and sharp, the laughter inside cut off instantly. Footsteps approached the door, hesitant. A second later, it swung open, and there she was, his sister, looking at him like he was the last person she wanted to see.

“Rafe,” she said, one hand still gripping the door. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to talk.”

Her brows pulled together, suspicion creeping into her expression. “Now? Seriously?”

“Yeah, now,” he snapped, stepping closer, his voice low enough to keep from drawing the others’ attention. “Don’t make me say it in front of them.”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder toward the voices in the living room. “Rafe, I don’t think—”

“Don’t,” he cut her off, his tone sharper than he meant. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to soften, to keep it together. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

She glanced back again, then sighed, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind her. He was already pacing, hands twitching at his sides, hardly able to contain the energy inside him. 

The way she looked at him—wary, guarded—only made it worse.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked, crossing her arms, like she was already bracing for a fight.

“My problem?” he barked out a laugh, sharp. “You really wanna play dumb right now? You’ve been keeping something from me, Sarah. I know you have.”

Her brows knit together, feigning confusion, “Dude. What’s this about? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed, stepping closer, “Don’t lie to me. I already know, okay? I know about the baby.”

She didn’t say a word, didn’t confirm a thing, just stared at him like he was some wild animal.

“Where did you get the idea that she’s pregnant?”

His mouth opened, then closed. It felt wrong to snitch on Topper when he’d been one making him pry a little more.

“Well?” she pressed, “Answer me. How did you come up with that?”

Saying it out loud felt like admitting he’d been just as reckless and intrusive as everyone expected him to be. His hand ran over his face, trying to stall.

“I didn’t just make it up.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her patience waning. “No shit. So where, Rafe?”

He glanced away, then back, his voice defensive. “Topper said something, okay? He heard—he thought—” Rafe stopped, knowing how weak it sounded.

 “Topper? You’re taking life advice from Topper now?”

“He didn’t mean anything by it!” Rafe was quick to defend him, “He just... he mentioned some things, and it got me thinking. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Sarah repeated, “You barged over there because Topper mentioned ‘some things’ ? Jesus Christ.”

His hands flew up in frustration. “What was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn’t hear it? Ignore it and hope it went away? I needed to know!”

“No, you didn’t,” Sarah shot back. “You wanted to know. There’s a difference, and it’s the difference that keeps getting you into this shit.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe pointed a finger in his direction, “Like I’m crazy or something. I’m not stupid.”

"You’re just not worth the energy right now."

Instead of crying like he wanted to, he let out a dry laugh, pacing back and forth in front of her.

"Right. Sure. I can see it all over you, just say it."

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. Neither does Topper.”

“Stop lying!” His voice rose, loud enough to echo into the dark yard. “Just stop. You know something.”

Sarah’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Rafe thought he’d finally cracked her. Except instead of giving him what he wanted, she just let out a slow breath, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that made him feel like a child fighting for his favorite toy.

“You want to know the truth?” 

“Yes,” he bit out, his chest heaving.

She stepped forward so they were only inches apart. “The truth is, you don’t deserve to know. Not yet.”

Everyone kept telling him the same thing, couldn’t they see he was already trying?

He staggered back a step. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, that whatever you’re looking for, whatever answers you think you deserve, they’re not yours to take. Not until you can handle them without breaking everything you touch."

He flinched, her words striking something inside him, “You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said, almost desperate.

“I’m not deciding anything,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve spent these last few months making everything about you. Your pain, your anger, your needs.”

He glanced away, “So, what? You don’t trust me?”

Her silence was louder than anything she could have said.

“You don’t,” he murmured, the realization bitter in his mouth.

"I don’t," she agreed, “You’re still not the person she needs you to be, and until you can prove you can do that—without me, without anyone holding your hand—you’re better off not knowing.”

“I’m trying. I swear to fucking God, I’m trying. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“She’s scared you’re going to hurt her again—whether you mean to or not. You’re dating someone else, for god’s sake.”

“I ended it. This morning.”

Sarah’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “Doesn’t change the past, Rafe. And it sure as hell doesn’t make everything better overnight.”

Rafe flinched, the words sinking into him like stones. "Why the fuck do you think I’m here? I don’t want to hurt her—I can’t do anything if she won’t even talk to me."

Topper still had that number. 

You hadn’t hidden it well enough, he hadn’t done anything with it, but it was tempting. All he had to do was call, just to confirm, he told himself. Not to pry, simply to know for sure.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. This isn’t something you can force your way into. She would never forgive you, please be smart.”

His first instinct was to lash out, fire back some venom-laced retort that would sting as much as her tone. He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Okay,” He dragged a hand through his head, “I know that, I know. But I can’t just sit here, doing nothing. I need to... I need to show her I can do better. That I am better.”

“You need to crawl through hell to understand a fraction of what she’s going through; you need to stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about her.”

His hands fell to his sides, limp, the fight suck out of him. She was right—he hated that she was. This wasn’t about him anymore; it never had been.

 “What can I do?”

Her expression softened, not with forgiveness but something sadder—she wanted to believe he could. “You start by fixing yourself, then you wait. Until she’s ready, if she’s ready. You’ve got to mean that, Rafe, you screw this up again..."

"I won’t," he said firmly, cutting her off. "I can’t."

“Okay.”

“What if she’s not ready?”

He had no right to demand more.

“You keep going, keep trying. Not for her, not for anyone else—just for you.”

By the time he got back in his truck, the hurt in his body hadn’t lifted. His mom’s words echoed in his mind one more, “When you find that person, don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

Maybe that started with learning to be the person who deserved to hold on.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[meiieiri]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 ! [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: in which toji notices how you color-code your outfit every time you see each other…and promptly makes a game out of it in hopes it will cure his gambling addiction.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: colors | outfit inspos | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: 18+, suggestive themes at the end (explicit sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation), but otherwise, just a fluffy/semi-angst/semi-crack scenario of a lovestruck toji trying to cure his gambling addiction~~

Chewing on his pen, Toji’s fangs were beginning to hurt as he stares at the blank face of a random receipt he found in his mostly empty wallet. He seems to be deep in thought, he almost looks like he’s trying his best to crack a mathematical mystery except…he doesn’t give a shit about math and the only mystery he seems to be interested in cracking is…

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late!”

“Fuck.”

There you were in all your radiant magnificence eagerly waving to him from the university gates with your signature gummy smile he’s grown to love so much. You looked so beautiful and happy today…and you were wearing purple. A purple floral wrap dress. He was so sure you were gonna be wearing pink today Toji crosses out today’s date and the word: pink next to it with a frustrated “X”.

And in case anyone was wondering, this little guess-the-color-his-girlfriend-is-wearing-today game is something he came up with on a whim one day while waiting to pick you up after class. Of all the misfortune that has befallen him in his life, he has to thank the Zenin clan for one thing: sparing him the trouble of having to sit through an entire day of brain-frying university lectures about Kant’s second law of physics.

He hurriedly buries the receipt in his back pocket as he crosses the street, closing the twenty-five meter gap between the two of you. Pressing his lips against yours, Toji hums appreciatively when he tastes his favorite strawberry-flavored lip tint on your Cupid’s bow. You giggle as you nuzzle his nose when he pulls away, your hot breaths against one another’s lips providing a sense of comfort to you both. “What were you saying a while ago?”

“Ah, nothing.” Toji places a protective hand around your waist as the two of you walk to the nearby park for your and his usual after class/work stroll. “Just the usual profanity.”

Your lips curl into a soft pout at the thought of your boyfriend being upset about something. “Why?”

“Nothing babe,” he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders. “Just lost at the boat races again,” he easily comes up with a white lie — a white lie that is bound to make you sad. He knows how upset you get when he relapses into his gambling addiction which, in his defense, he really is trying to quit for his and your — mostly your — sake. “Ah, I’ll do better, squirt. ‘m sorry.”

“Please?” you plead with him softly to which he nods, softly pinching your cheek in a silent promise to try to limit his gambling to…

…Getting tomorrow’s color right.

The next day, Toji spends about fifteen minutes in the shower trying to figure out what color you’d be wearing today. He’s already ruled out the possibility of you wearing black since it’s thirty degrees outside today, but with your extensive wardrobe, crossing out one color from the list is hardly enough to narrow it down. He’s never felt like this with boat races before since he has this natural tendency to just pick the boat with the most stable engine.

Ah, who was he kidding? He’ll just have to guess…and hope for the best, he steps out of the shower a few minutes of deliberation later.

After putting on a black shirt, he looks at his makeshift gambling ticket on the kitchenette counter with an angry look on his face. “Red. It has to be red.” He jots it down next to today’s date in red ink as if to manifest you’ll wear your off-shoulder red top today and those black trousers you bought from that thrift store in Harajuku last week.

Suddenly, a knock rips through the silence of his apartment and he goes to immediately answer the door. Toji clasps his hand around the doorknob for a bit, somehow still intent on delaying the inevitable. “Toji? The bags are getting kinda heavy,” you sheepishly called from the other side of the door and your boyfriend instantly snaps out of it. He swings the door open a little too aggressively that it makes you jump a bit when you hear the ear-splitting screech of the hinges nearly coming off the door. “Ah…hi, babe?”

You don’t know what to make of Toji’s face.

It’s like he’s feeling an odd mix of emotions all piled into one that they somehow cancelled each other out and now, he’s…staring at you…blankly. You have to admit, it looks a little funny. It’s not his usual stoic expression, it’s just pure…nothingness…like he caught a glimpse of the void or something and he can’t peel his eyes away from it.

“Can I come in—?”

“—Hi.”

“Eh?”

You burst out laughing at his delayed response. It’s like your boyfriend buffered for a full minute there which is so unlike him, considering he’s always so smoothly unbothered and suave in his demeanor. Toji scowls when you place a hand over his forehead. “You feeling okay?”

Toji gently shrugs your hand away, nodding absentmindedly. “Fine.” That sounded awfully peachy but you didn’t mind, Toji’s normally so awkward anyway, unbeknownst to most. In the eyes of those who don’t know him, Toji’s image is nothing short of a big, bad delinquent, but in your eyes, you mostly associate him with a typical house cat — quiet and snooty in every regard but actually genuinely affectionate. “Oh, let me help you with those.” He crouches down to help you with the groceries, sneakily stealing a kiss from you as you remove your shoes at the genkan before stepping into the living room.

Toji watches as you bound over to his apartment’s balcony, searching for the stray cat that normally drops by in the afternoon, with a grimace on his face.

“Of course she’s wearing beige,” he grumbles under his breath. Again, he crosses out today’s entry a little more forcefully this time.

At the balcony, you find Toji’s pet emeritus lounging away at the foot of the laundry rack. “Oh, there you are!” You crouch down and pet the white cat whom Toji affectionately refers to as ‘Yuki’ when he thinks you aren’t listening in whenever he feeds it after dinner. “You look like you could use a warm bath, come on!” You gently pick up the little creature and bring her inside. “Toji, I found Yuki~!”

You stop in your tracks when you see Toji with his forehead pressed to the cold marble counter causing you to instinctively place a comfort hand on his upper back to placate him while Yuki climbs atop the counter. At the familiarness of your touch, Toji, who looks like he’s still upset over some unknown thing he won’t tell you, rights his posture. What’s a man gotta do to get a winning streak around here?

“Hey, maybe you should lie down…”

“…I’m okay,” Toji half-whimpers, defeated, gaping at Yuki as she licks her paw contentedly. “Huh. You brought the fleabag in here?”

Somehow offended by that, Yuki violently hisses at him.

Okay, something is seriously wrong with Toji.

You just came out from using the washroom to see Toji on the kotatsu agitatedly scribbling on a piece of paper that doesn’t exactly look like a betting stub. You surmised it would have been something like that since Toji doesn’t normally get angry over anything except losing money on bets, but you are thoroughly surprised and comforted to see that wasn’t the case this time around. You sit down next to him, pulling your big baby into an embrace.

“My poor baby,” you teased amid Toji’s obvious misery. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you smiled softly when he playfully pushes you down onto the tatami mats, all his weight pinning you down, his hand easily overwhelming yours as he pins them above your head. You try to squirm away from him, laughing when his other hand secures your hip to the floor, rendering you unable to struggle against him. Then, he lowers his lips close to your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps to appear all over your skin, he sighs, falling slack at the crook of your neck.

Toji hates this, he probably looks like a kicked dog right now.

Today’s bet was yellow but when you opened the door to your apartment, you were wearing a mint green sweater over your cream relaxed fit ankle pants.

“Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I just win for once?” Toji’s voice is muffled as he buries his face in your shoulder. Instantly, you feel a pit form in your stomach. You’ve heard this before. You slowly push him off of you, your disappointment palpable in the way you utter your next words.

“Toji, you’ve been…gambling again, haven’t you? Baby, we talked about this.”

Your lover steadies the movements of his chest, feeling the need to defend himself. He wasn’t gambling, quite the contrary really, the thought of wandering over to the horse races hasn’t crossed his mind since he started this harmless little game. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and every so often, he relapses into these undertones of his gambling addiction particularly the crippling desire to win at least once, to guess just one daily color scheme right.

And he’ll let it go. He swears he’ll let it go.

“I know, but really, babe, I’m not—“

“—Really? Then, what’s this?” You shakily point to the folded up piece of paper on the kotatsu. He has to pinch himself to hold in his laughter when he sees just how cutely distressed you are over an unassuming crepe stall receipt. “Don’t you start laughing now!” You swat his arm.

“I’m not laughing, you brat!” Toji purses his lips together, thoroughly enamored by you right now. “You’re worrying over nothing, Y/N. Trust me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you. You cheeky little brat. “But you’re acting so weird though…” You poke him relentlessly on the cheek to get him to come clean, and you dodge whenever he tries to playfully catch your index finger with his teeth. “Just tell me.”

“Nope.”

You climb onto his lap, hugging him.

“Please.”

A kiss is a good bribe right?

“Uh-uh.”

He returns the kiss with a loud smooch!

“I’ll break up with you.”

You whine when he flicks your forehead, leaving an obvious red mark on it.

“You won’t.”

Your little back and forth is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Sighing, you finally let go of him. Looks like he isn’t going to budge. Toji gets up to answer the door, setting you down on the cushioned seat. Feeling a little bad when he glances back to see you still sulking about the issue, he subtly and intentionally allows the receipt to fall from his pocket knowing you’ll almost certainly go straight for it. He’ll just have to deal with your constant teasing for the next two weeks once you read the contents of the slip of paper. But he’d rather hear you laughing your heart out (even if it’s at his expense) than see you getting all anxious about him slipping back into his old destructive hobbies.

When you see the piece of paper falling like a leaf dancing in the wind, your eyes light up, and you crawl over to the spot where it’s fallen near the small bookshelf you have in the corner.

“Rakuten delivery.” Toji signs the courier’s clipboard, receiving your package. Just as he’s about to walk back into the living room to hand you your parcel, he stops in his tracks when he hears your cute chortles which you’re pathetically trying to subdue and a smirk appears on the corner of Toji’s lips.

Looks like the crisis has been averted for now.

“Wait, Toji…”

Toji pretends to not hear you, his fingers still buried in your sopping cunt, lusciously pushing in and out, your arousal coating his fingertips as he devours your lips in wanton need. You moan out his name again and he scowls when you reluctantly remove his fingers from your heat. “What? What is it?” What could possibly be so important?

You flush when he sensually licks his fingers clean, and you sit up, pulling down your skater skirt. “What’s an anniversary without a little surprise?” You kissed him on the lips, lingering for a bit, your eyes fluttering close as you taste your arousal on his tongue. “Mmh…”

“Just forget it.” Toji bucks his hips against yours, his clothed erection rubbing against your bare slit.

“No way. Just…wait here,” you kiss him again, boldly running your tongue over his bottom lip before pulling away and heading to the bathroom to get your surprise ready.

Toji groans in frustration, his head hitting the pillows he set down on the futon. After a few restless moments of him resisting the urge to fuck his hardened cock into his hand to finish himself off, he hears your melodious voice calling for him from down the hall.

A satisfied lopsided smirk appears on Toji’s lips, his eyes dark as he gazes at the most beautiful being in the world right now, shyly making her way towards him wearing nothing but an emerald silk robe. He licks his lips when he sees the outline of your nipples through the fabric, smirking as you sit down on the foot of the futon.

“All that for a silly little robe? What a letdown,” Toji smirks as he moves to untie the knot of your robe, only for you to slap his hand away.

“Uh-uh…you have to guess first.”

Toji gulps when you pull out the one thing he’s been agonizing over for the last few weeks from your robe’s hidden pocket. You grab a pen from the nearby bookshelf which he expertly catches when you throw it in his direction alongside the crumpled up piece of paper he’d been meaning to destroy for a while now.

“If you guess right, we could ditch the condom tonight. So do well,” you innocently bat your eyelashes at him.

Toji looks like he wants to jump off a ditch, the obvious tent in his sweatpants indicating just how hard he is right now. “No, don’t do this. Don’t fucking do this, Y/N…”

“…What color am I wearing tonight?”

[dropsnectar]

When The Dragon Saves You from the Prince

Dragon x gn!reader

NSFW

So it looks like this turned into something a little longer than a drabble. I was going to wait a week until my poll finished but got impatient. So! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

You knew as one of noble birth, the child of a Duke, that you would eventually be married off to the highest bidder. That's just how marriage was for the nobility. However, you hadn’t expected your loving parents to set up an engagement with an infamously rakish and daft prince. 

You hated the man. Whatever was supposed to be going on between his ears, was judged by that thing between his legs. When he had first met you, he had leveled with you that his reputation was true, and that expecting him to be faithful would be like asking water not to be wet.

Happy to have an excuse not to touch him, you basically ignored the man up until a week to the wedding. One afternoon his father the King had decided the two of you needed to look chummier, so he sent you off on a joint hunting trip with a few nobles. Of course, what you didn’t know was that these nobles were friends of his royal dumbass. 

They spent the whole time mocking your dukedom, and making salacious comments about your body and wedding night. Of course, your idiotic fiance only laughed at your expense, making comments of his own. 

To your own credit, you had handled their buffoonery with grace and wit. At one point, one of your barbed replies had actually struck a chord with one of the nobles, realization dawning on his face. He came off his horse and smacked you with all of his might. Too weak a man for a punch, he had gotten a solid hit on you, and you felt your eye heat and swell. Not good. The atmosphere had gone from snide joy, to predatory. 

The Prince himself got off his horse and stalked forward and pulled you by the hair down to the ground in front of his friends. They demanded to be repaid for the hurt done to them.

“I’m sure your pretty little mouth can be put to better use.” The Prince laughed, and he and his friends started to undress themselves.

That's when a loud, earsplitting screech hurtled through the air. A loud thumping and suddenly a large green dragon with large spikes started stampeding towards the group. He bucked aside the nobles, sending them and their horses running. Your fiance tried his best to pull up his pants, as he reached for his sword, but was unable to do either successfully. The dragon had stopped and stood tall before him, nostrils flaring. A pair of molten eyes stared him down, as if to challenge him. Of course, faced between defending you and running, he chose the latter. 

You couldn’t see the Dragon above you well, on account of the swelling in your eye and the hard pulsing headache that had started to vibrate through your head. The Dragon didn’t move, just stared at you as you blacked out.

***

When you came to you were warm. You opened your eyes to find yourself in a small room seemingly carved out of stone. There was a doorway with no door, that when you traveled through, brought you to a large cavern with high ceilings. You were surprised to find furniture, shelves filled with books, a large wooden desk filled with parchment and ink. 

“You are awake.”

You were startled to find yourself facing a being. He looked somewhat human, but the angles of his jaw, elbows and fingers were inhumanly sharp. His arms were covered in green scales, as well as his webbed ears, giving him away. When he spoke again you could see his sharp canines. He asked about the pain in your head. You admitted to feeling fine and he nodded. You had apparently gotten a concussion. 

The Dragon, who revealed his name to be Reix, explained that he had been exploring his new territory when he had felt evil and human pain radiating from where you had been staying. The land had recently been gifted to him by the king in exchange for his help in finding a cure for an elf and human disease that had run rampant for the last decade. He had taken it as his summer home, and was happy to find your health well.

You were surprised by his poised and friendly demeanor. You had heard that dragons were wild beasts, who occasionally took human form to steal treasure. You thanked him for his help, even if it was for not. You explained that the man had been the prince, and your fiance at that. You would not be able to escape him, even with your influence as a duke's child. 

“If you have nowhere to stay, you may stay here. It may not compare to an ornate palace, but I can assure you it will be better than what you would have to go home to.” 

Choose between a roaring evil monster and a kind, thoughtful being? Of course you were going with the dragon.

As the days went on you learned more about Reix, his character and his interest. He was the quiet studious type who prized his books over anything else. He even kept ancient first editions of many popular novels, some even with signatures. He also had some antique memorabilia, some keys from a printing press from his mothers favorite publishing company, a bookmark from a late saintess who he had befriended long ago. He showed you all his favorite books, nonfiction and fiction. You were even surprised to find that he enjoyed the occasional romance. 

“Why, Sir Dragon, are you perhaps a romantic?” You teased. He looked at you with pursed lips and a faint blush.

“I am not so cold that I can’t be moved by a good story. After all, most people experience it once or twice in their life. Love that is.”

The two of you had been fast friends, bonding over shared interests. You spent weeks, months like this. He would hunt or go out to town for your meals. He taught you how to cook. You were terrible at it at first, but he eventually learned to trust you to make omelets, and the famous everything soup. He was an incredible cook too, and he seemed to enjoy sharing recipes and meals with you. You couldn’t help but notice the occasional fond glances he’d send your way. 

You had to admit, you weren’t unaffected by his presence either. You noticed how strong the muscles of his arms were as he reached up to retrieve a book from the top shelf for you. His glowing hazel eyes always looked at you with respect and reverence. No one had ever looked at you like that before. And you had to admit you had never met a kinder person than him. You loved his smile,how his teeth tended to stick out as he spoke to you.

You were the one to make the first move. Reix had been sitting on the couch, reading in his usual way, when you cuddled right up next to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder and covered your lap and feet with a blanket, as if to nap. He was stiff at first but eventually relaxed into you. You started to do this at every opportunity and you would notice that he would now forgo his study chair for the couch. Neither of you ever said anything about it, but you two never missed an afternoon cuddle.

One day, Reix sat you down, his limbs twitchy and expression solemn. 

“I will be straight with you. My species goes through something called a heat a few times every year. Mine is nearing, so I will be traveling to my home up north for a week.” He bit his lip before continuing. “But do not worry, I will stock the pantry and make sure you are as comfortable as possible while I’m… gone.”

A heat? You had read enough smutty novels to know what that was. The thought made your heart beat hard in your chest and a warmness pool in your gut. Well. Right now was as good of a time as any.

“What if I wanted you to stay?” You enunciated slowly. Reix frowned at you.

“You do not understand, I will not be myself. I will be like an animal. I won't be able to control my instincts.” He stared at you with big watery eyes.

You walked towards his chair and knelt at his feet, taking his hands into yours. 

“I will take all of you, if you let me.” You then pulled his hands up to your cheeks, forcing him to cradle your face. The two of you held each other's gaze for a long time, the tension palpable. 

When he kissed you, it didn’t taste sweet, like his words always were. His breath was fire, after all. The two of you burned up together.

***

You were wretched out of sleep by the feeling of rubbing on your ass. Strong arms gripped your waist, and you felt his ragged breath in your ear, moans sputtered from his lips, whispers of,”I’m sorry.” More groaning, “You feel so good…ahh!” And he came all over your nightgown. 

But this didn’t seem to sate him at all, as he continued to rub himself into the curve of your asscheeks, slick of him coating you and dripping down to your entrance. He seemed to realize you were awake because his voice increased in volume.

“Please. You promised…” He moaned out as he went from fucking your ass to plunging himself in between the plush of your thighs. The change in texture seemed to get him going as his speed started to increase. Much to his annoyance you turned around. He hated having to go even a second without his dick touching you, and you pulled him into a hot passionate kiss.

His mouth devoured you hungrily, arms now roaming the lines of your body. His eyes were glazed over in lust as he reached his head down to suck on your nipples, trying to get you sufficiently worked up. When he was close again, he brought dick up to your entrance, pushing in just the tip as he came. His hot cum slid into you, prepping you for what was to come next. You clenched around nothing, and started grinding on his dick, needing to take more of his length. 

He took you in one harsh thrust. You hadn’t seen what he had looked like before, but you could tell that his dick must have been an unusual shape. The ridges of his dick dragged deliciously against your walls, making you drool. He was so big it was a painful stretch. But you were nobility, and nobility took the long and hard things in life and made it work for them.

You reached your hand down and felt the part of him that wasn’t inside you and slowly started pumping, enjoying the soft, yet firm texture of him. He slowed his thrusting, suddenly overcome by how you were making him feel. The duality of your hands on him and being inside you made him want to scream out. His good little noble felt divine. He was having a spiritual awakening right there in your bedroom, as he got closer and closer to release. 

Eventually you had gotten used to the feeling of him and started rocking your hips in time with his strokes. The delectable friction he was giving you was building up inside you, a hot fiery pit about to explode. Your Reix’s gaze was full of devotion and need, but the way one of his hands gently came up to cup your cheeks made you burn. Even now, when he was ravaging you like the wild beast everyone assumed he was, he still treasured you.

You came hard around his girth, crying out as white hot pleasure pushed its way from your core to your fingertips. Reix soon followed after, unleashing another impossibly large load of his wetness within you. He slowed his minstrations and pulled out, going back to fucking your thighs until you were properly recovered enough to take him again. And take him you did, all through the night and the following day. 

When his heat had cooled, he brought you fruits, cheeses and bread, taking small bites and feeding it to you, as you were too exhausted to do so yourself. He seemed to take great joy in this as his normal small smile was blinding as he cared for you. He pulled you up and the two of you took a bath. He made sure to wipe you down first, every swipe of his rag gentle as he worshiped you with his glowing eyes. When he was done, he added more heat to the water and joined you, settling you down between his legs as he held your back to his chest.

You rested in silence for awhile, enjoying the warmth of the water and each others skin. 

“We should do something about that fiance of yours. Mind if I eat him?” He was playing with the damp curls of your hair, relishing in the texture. You smiled up at him.

“You don’t know where he's been. You could catch something. But I do have an idea. If you are up for it that is.” 

“For you, I would do anything.”

You smiled. Your father was next in line for the throne after the prince. Reix was a gentle giant most of the time, but you couldn’t help but think what a dashing and benevolent prince he would make.