I write fics nd drabbles when im bored and for fun!
English is a hard language, please excuse and ignore any mistakes! I'm trying my best :*C (especially ignore my messed up tenses, I can't make up my mind.)
REQUESTS ARE CLOSED :((( Exams are coming up.. sorry!
Inboxed requests will be written... eventually...but until then.. an unfortunate hiatus :c
I do not specialise in smut, if i try in the future it prolly won't be the best...
I find most inspiration in angst to fluff/comfort :33
I will write for :
☆ Literally any visual novel I know.. (test my knowledge!) current obsession: I have no clue!
Rules !
I do not have any obligation to fulfill any requests!
If I'm uncomfortable, unmotivated or just... don't wanna do it, i won't! Sorry.
Don't be mean!!! any sort of : HOMOPHOBIA, RACISM, ABELISM, ETC WILL NOTTTTTTTTTT BE TOLERATED!
I've been binge reading yours fics and I absolutely adore your writing! ❤️
I was wondering if you could write our serials with a reader who either is super eye contact avoidant but when they do hold eye contact, it's kinda unsettling? Instead of "undressing someone with their eyes", it's just intensely creepy.
Sorry if that didn't make sense.
- anon, but with a cold 🥲
Omniscient Orbs.
PAIRINGS! -> GN!Reader x Ronin , Angel , Misaki , V
a/n: hia my lovely anon <3, i doubt you have a cold anymore given that this was a very old submission, (sorry about thaat..) hope you're doing well!!!
a/n²: this was really hard for me to write, as much as i love writing in general pls understand its lowkey hard for me at this time.. thank you all sm for all the love while i'm absent! Love you all severely <3
im sorry if this isn't up to my standard idek what to think of this to be honest. i hope it's okay.... i truly do miss writing but it's genuienly so hard nowadays. please excuse any grammar mistakes!
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Ronin .
In meeting you, one of the first things Ronin Beaufort had noticed was your inability to hold eye contact with him. He got the prospect, of course, but being Ronin Beaufort, he obviously was under the obligation to tease you about it.
You're tangled around Ronin like a serpant in sand, making a concious effort to mirror his breathing pattern as you both lay on his bed. The soft shrill of birds outside, low banter of a show the pair of you were once watching; now abandoned as background noise, and the shriek of metal from Ronin sharpening a thin pocket knife add to the ambiance of his room.
Ronin softly clinks down the knife against his night stand with a sigh, shuffling slightly to adjust your body against his. A pang plays through before Ronin's fingers guide themselves up to cradle your cheeks. His fingers drum softly against your skin before dragging your face to look up at him.
Of course, you do not return his gaze.
"[Name]," He cooes, tapping against your skin again. "Look at me, darling."
He's shocked when you actually do, already charging up his teasing response- but- your gaze swallows all his words entirely.
Your eyes were.. deep. Intense. Uncomfortable. Scrutinizing...
Ronin had seen your eyes. Of course he had. He was oddly infactuated with every peice that made you you. But he had never actually met your eyes with his.
And.. never expected for them to feel so intense. To engulf him whole. Leave him feeling unfinished.
and he loved it.
When given the chance, Ronin thoroughly enjoyed getting lost in the whirpool of your eyes. That mouldy, alluring feeling was his ecstacy after a long day.
Ah, the comfort of discomfort!
Angel .
Maria found it easy to get lost in the charming features that built up the specimen that you are. Whether* that be your hands, arms, stomach, nose, or even your eyes.
Maria traces her finger against your joints, just.. breathing you in after a long day. You had a refreshing aspect to you that *she simply had to commend.*
Eventually, when her monolouge of admiring your being halts and she drags her eyes up to meet yours; she oftentimes becomes enfactuated.
Maybe it's their boisterous dullness. Or the way she watches your pupils dialate when they meet hers.
Within a few seconds, you begin to grow clammy all over, but Maria doesn't notice. Why be attentive to something so trivial when there's bigger things at hand? Like the way your eyes grow bigger the longer she stares at them for.
She only seems to etch more forward.. and while she barely notices her magnetic pull towards you; you certainly do. Her perfume fills your nose with an intoxicating pleasantry one can only describe to the fitting effect of an Angel.
"Mari," You finally whine, losing the staring contest.. per usual.
"Ah. Sorry, my heart." She plants a kiss on your undereye.
"Those eyes you have would throw anyone off, mi vida." She sighs out, crumbling into you.
Depsite your crippling eye contact avoidance, Maria was difficult not to look at.
Misaki .
Misaki being unapologetically Misaki means that they often get corrected by you; like a parent reprimanding their child to act more decently in public.
The phone screen wobbles as Misaki tries to focus herself in the cameras line of sight.
"Where are you off to?" You question, twisting a stray piece of hair between your fingers as you watch your partner hop up what you assume to be a staircase.
"Stairs!" They reply. Well, it's not really a response, but can you blame them? They're charging up the stairs like an arrow thrust through the air.
Eventually, the shaking facetime screen remains at a constant level and you can only assume Misaki is done her marathon.
The phone is propped against something solid as Misaki pans out to sort something out in a bag you weren't paying much attention to.
"What do you want for dinner today, by the way? No clue what to get." You mumble, absentmindedley toying with something else.
You go on to rant about your day,, typical for your facetime calls of an evening. With Misaki giving small hums of ackowledgment and tiny quips of response, you continue on until someting shoots you out of your rambling trance.
No, really. Shoots.
A gunshot barrels through your headphones, and you're sure you must have grabbed your phone as fast as the shotgun ricocheted.
Misaki is centre of your screen, Remington 700 ; of whom she calls Remi ; cradled in her arms like a newborn baby, fresh steam curling out of the muzzle from the fresh bullet she had just sent out.
She feverishly packs away before sparring a confused glance at her phone camera.
"Go on, babe. What about that barista?" She audaciously chirp, slinging the rifle casing over her shoulder.
When Misaki finally had the time to glance down at their phone, the glare adopted onto your face genuienly stuns them for a moment too long. Your eyes pierce into a spirit they didn't know they had. They messed up bad. They quit their pacing and shuffle into an alleyway once they decide the coast was crystal enough.
"...He was alone. I was safe!.. really!" Her pleas fall on deaf ears. Your scowl deepens, and Misaki genuienly shudders through all layers of her skin.
"I missed you, i just wanted to hear you- to see you." They pathetically mumble out, trying to look anywhere but at the intensity of your eyes.
"If you ever call me again when you're on a mission, regardless of how 'safe' you think you are, consider crafting your will, Katsuo."
The muster up a reverent nod. Not many things frightened Misaki, being a skilled assasian and all, but anyday of the week the intensity of your eyes could have them fall to their knees and warble in a dingy alleyway for half an hour.
V .
Valentin Viljoen can miss the entire plot point of a chronological movie but simaltaneously disect anyone's moral compass, diving into what builds their viscera. This man can read you like a shameless fiend searching through a diary.
You lean your head against him, scraping your feet against the ashy pebbles of the park floor. Silence had stretched on far, and not the comfortable kind. It was thick, and unheard of in your realtionship. Even Val, calm and collected and certainly not easily agitated Val, felt uncomfortable with this silence.
The birds infront of the pair of you peck against the rubble, trying to grab at the sweet corn cornels. With each lazy swing you threw, Valentin got more worried; noting that you weren't even trying to bonk them on the heads with the corn.
He leans forward, giving you a blank glance.
When you return his gaze, he feels an earnest shiver trail up the length of his vertebrae and nestle in his throat.
He's used to your unnerving glare, but this was a different level of uncanny.
He turns away, subtly gulping down the goosebumps that had somehow found their way into him. Meekly, he touches your shoulder before pulling you more into his shoulder.
"...What is the matter?"
...
"I'm hungry."
Valentin read you like a diary, and you surely couldn't ask for better.
a/n³: i took a weird direction with all of these... i didnt want them all to be the same, im sory :C
AHEM ANYWAYS!!! Imagine a reader who randomly says creepy things with the killer chat LI? For example they can be talking about their day, then randomly stop, stay silent for about 10 seconds, then say something that sounds like something from a horror movie before going back to their original topic :p
Oh and have a good day/night/whenever you're seeing this!!! You're amazing<3
Murderous ideology.
PAIRINGS! -> GN!Reader x Ronin , Angel , Misaki , V
a/n : Hope it tastes yummy <3 thank you for the request lovely anon! You're more amazing-er! Hope you enjoy!!!!!!!! These are short draaaaabless
a/n² : sorry for slow uploads, i doubt it'll get any better :'[
Ronin.
Your spontaneous character gives Ronin another reason to breath. He never truly anticipates your strange words, but he enjoys the suprise even better.
When the two of you are conversing over the days events and you suddenly halt in your speech; he knows he's in for something peculiar.
"My neighbours cat - she was on my car hood t'day," You're swooning, stirring the beverage that sat infront of you with the spoon that you favour.
"She looked so adorable." You add, dazingly thinking back on the cute feline.
A pause pangs through.
“She meowed like she remembered words, but her mouth couldn’t shape them anymore.”
The spoon gently clinks against the rim of your cup before you focus back on Ronin.
"She's the cutest thing. I love persians."
Ronin doesn't dignify you with a response, only stares blankly at the screen; trying to piece your words together. A faint unease tickles up his spine, yet, juxtaposed against it, a grin pinches at the corner of his mouth. Because he knows, when the time comes, you'll say something even stranger.
It means something when you make the Butcher's skin crawl. Though, your ominiousity is a trait he favours about you. His creepy-crawly writer darling.
Angel.
Maria is irked by this trait of yours.
You both rest on the couch, bodies tangled together like a braid. You drum your fingers across Maria's skin, tracing an inconspicuous pattern on her foreaarm. Maria seems to be presuming something whilst running her hand down the arch of your head.
"..Sometimes i wonder if the walls remember us better than we remember ourselves."
The moment you part your lips, she groans, shifting from underneath you.
"Is it really necessary to say these things out loud?"
"What? It's just a thought. I'm just thinking."
"Thinking? Far from it. That was more like theatrics."
"If walls could whine, everyone would be guilty."
Maria gingerly places her palm over your mouth, shaking her head softly.
"Let's go back to silence, my heart."
She loves you, really. But you truly are a paradox.
Misaki.
Misaki loves this trait of yours. It creeps her out, sure, but who doesn't love to feel on edge?
They're lying with their head against your lap, warbling about something random as your fingers lazily comb through her tufts of hair.
"Your hair. It feels allot softer today."
"Flattery? You want something from me?" Misaki snorts, rocking their eyes back to capture your face.
"Almost like it's forgiving you."
Her grin falters, a dejected expression on her visage.
"Almost."
Your words wrap around their neck like a silky ribbon pulled too tight. Alas, she doesn't move. Not even a twitch.
In fact, Misaki melts into your grounding touch further, savouring the peculiar little ache you leave in their veins.
Because that's the trade-off. Comfort wrapped with a poisonous bow. She can't help but crave it more.
V.
You make Valentin worry every time you pull the stunt. His nighttime ritual is stressing about your sanity while you rest soundly beside him.
"Goodnight, Val." You softly hum out, shuffling the blankets to engulf you further.
"Let's hope you're still you when i wake."
Val blinks at the body laying beside him, watching the calm rise and fall of your chest. Your breathing slipping into the candence of dreaming. Your words hang thick in the air, polluting the vicinity.
Valentin has to stop himself shaking you awake and interrogating you on what you meant by that.
He nestles down into the blankets, staring up at the ceiling with a glint of disquiet in his eye.
You're the reason he has grey hairs in his late 20s.
Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a ronin × transmasc!reader? Maybe Ronin helps with their t shot or helps them find gender affirming clothing -🪲 (anon)
Under his (wretched) wing.
PAIRING! -> Transmasc!Reader x Ronin Beaufort
a/n: Thank you for the request my lovely beetle anon! Sorry if there's any misconceptions, i tried to gather enough info! </3, hope you enjoy!!
a/n²: my motivation is all over the place rn, sorry if i don't get to your request <//////3
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Ronin grips the base of your thigh, adjusting the syringe gripped in his fist.
"You're always such a baby with this," Ronin rolled his eyes, glaring up at you through his eyebrows. "Ready?"
"Not everyone is an absolute beast in their transition." You sarcastically remark. "...Give me a second."
A second passes, and Ronin lowers the needle.
"Wait! wait, wait. Stop rushing me."
"It's almost sunset." Ronin gives a distant look to the window behind you, in response, you whip your head around to catch the fall of the blazing star.
The second your eyes connect with the very much still far up in the sky sun, a stabbing sensation pulses through your thigh. You seethe, instinctively trying to jump up. Alas, Ronin was gripping onto your torso with a free arm, pushing the thick consistency of testosterone into you.
The way he glared up at you was oddly intimate, and you'd feel flustered if the weird feeling of dense sap wasn't actively being injected into you.
"How hard was that?" He hums teasingly, sliding the needle out of you. A droplet of blood rolls down the length of your leg, and you're too frazzled to notice the way Ronin not so subtly licks at the bead of red.
As you gather your bearings, he rubs the area that was injected with one hand, holding a cotton bud to your wound with the other.
You give him a curious look.
"Helps the oil spread." He mumbles out, answering your unasked question before halting his massaging.
"..Thanks."
"Anyday. It's a gift to stab you without you actually dying."
And you try to scowl at him, to find his words offensive. But you can't help but feel endearment bubble in your guts. Oh, how far you've fallen.
𝜗ৎ Ronin often shares his experiences with you - giving you advice, tips and whatnot.
𝜗ৎ Always there to validate you in the most shrewd ways possible; it's so subtle you only notice hours later thinking back.
𝜗ৎ Ronin takes anyone misgendering/unvalidating you extremely seriously. If it's in any way purposeful, he's already planned their disposal.
𝜗ৎ Insists on doing your shots, not only because he wants to stab you, but he likes being apart of your journey
HUHIHIII, Ronin x reader who was babysitting their sibling and he didn’t know??. OLEASE AND THANK UOU!
Babysitting^2.
PAIRING! -> GN!Reader x Ronin Beaufort
a/n: Thank you for the request my lovely anon! <3 Don't like this one tbh, but i hope you enjoy nonthelesssss
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"No, we are not watching frozen again."
"Why not?"
"You've watched it like 3 times this week."
You drag an exasperated hand down your face. Your sibling had been traded off to you for the night for a frantic promise of takeout and crumpled currency.
You throw a sparing glance over to the beaming green digital clock - 6:59. It's too early for them to sleep, too late to be entertained by anything else.
"Just.. choose a different disney film? please-"
A sharp knock snaps both you and your sibling out of the movie transe.
"Pizza?"
You arise from your seat, offering a curt hum to your sibling. The knock starts up again as you stagger for the door. It's aggresive, and fuels your annoyance.
"Im comin'!" You groan out, flinging open the door.
Only to be met with Ronin.
"Oh, so you are alive?" He's narrowed his eyes, channeling the energy of a pouty pup.
"Ro? What are you-"
"Is your phone broken or something? Mental breakdown? Finding entertainment in something other than me? Gee, [Name]. I'm offended."
"[Name]," A voice whines out. "I want pizza."
Ronin freezes, slowly zooming in on your expression. Your composure is borderlining awkward.
"I'm babysitting." You grumble out, answering a plethora of questions Ronin had running through his mental.
"Babysitting?.. since when? Didn't know you picked up a side job."
Ronin wavers as he catches sight of the small being sprawling itself out across the chair.
"Pizzzaaaaa." They whine again.
"They're my sibling. I'm being forced to keep them here. It's a torture method, I'm sure."
"Something that annoys you? I like 'em already."
You scowl at Ronin, readying yourself to banish him from your home, but he clearly has an ulterior motive as he slips past you.
Your sibling looks up, a glimmer of hope glistening in the scope of their eye - before being crumpled in seeing a lanky, burgandy haired, grinning guy standing at the foot of your couch.
"You're not pizza."
Ronin tuts, giving your sibling an unimpressed look. "Not pizza? Kid, i'm triple the upgrade. I'm a package deal with jokes and charm."
"Do you come with pepporoni?"
"Uuuh," He gives an unreadable glance. "Depends who's askin'."
You were sure your iq was decreasing with every slap to the forehead you gave yourself. You reluctantly close the door. "Ronin.."
His amusement only expands as he stoops down, "I can't magically summon pizza, but if we team up we can annoy [Name] ove'here into ordering us one?"
"Us??? Ronin, you aren't even invited-"
"Deal!" You're cut off by your sibling, nothing you aren't used to.
"Does my authority not exist?"
The inch of jurisdiction you were angsting to keep was yanked away from you in a swift tug. You watch in stagnent horror as both Ronin and your sibling, the most irritating people in your life, devise a plan to take you down.
You're barely being payed enough to babysit one gremlin. Ronin's certainly worth at least two.
Ronin with a hyper verbal reader? Reader yapping about drama with co-workers or friends, or just general interests of theirs that they're passionate about. :3
Rambling reverie.
PARING! -> GN!Hyper-verbal!Reader x Ronin Beaufort
a/n : thank yew for the request, lovely anon <33 Hope you enjoy! i really couldnt think of a title for this lol....
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Due to Ronin's obsession with toying with his victims mental before slaughtering them, he considers himself well-versed in listening to people.
You especially.
He truly does not understand how you link your sentences together. You could be pointing out a bird you saw earlier in the day, then somehow transitioning to rant about medieval torture devices. It's effortless, and Ronin does not understand how you do it.
Ronin often listens to you while multitasking. Fixing cars, working on his computer, sharpening knives; all with you either on call or rambling on his bedsheets. You're like a physical podcast, and he appreciates that.
˚❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
"He told me he was vegan, but.. not for pizza? And I felt like that was fair... Did you know that pizza-" You spare a glance over to Ronin, who was rocking on his chair while seemingly contemplating what to type.
The air thickens in proportion to the pangs of silence that follow.
Ronin eventually twirls around to give you an incredulous stare.
"Cat got your tongue?"
"Sorry, you probably need to focus."
He quirks a brow, spinning his chair back to the screen. It paints his face in a blue hue.
"If I really needed to focus, you wouldn't be here."
You gawk at him. "Was that an attempt at comfort?"
"That depends." He rocks his head back to glance at you. "Did it work?"
You flop back into his bed, melting into the pillows with a grumble. "You're impossible."
"Maybe a little." He hums; you can hear the smug grin in his words.
"Keep talking. I focus better with your voice. What was that fact about pizza?"
You'll rant to anyone who'll listen, but Ronin would much prefer it to be him.
He's an extremely active-listener. While you're prattling on about any subject, Ronin replies very curtly, but he very well can reciete back to you every single word that left your lips in the last half an hour.
Ronin makes you take vocal breaks; you seem to forget your voice box does not come in infinite supply. Whenever he notices the slight raspy tinge in your tone after speaking for a particuarly long time, he presses a finger against your lips. "Breathe."
It's weird, and he'd never admit it aloud but your speech is like a lullaby to him. He sleeps better with your facts, your stories, your experiences lolling him into unconsciousness...Regardless of how ridculous whatever you're saying is.
It helps that Ronin thinks your voice is adorable; it's the only element of grounding he has to root himself to the world once the chaos of the day finally settles.
What it'd be like to drink around the Killer chat Li's...
CW : ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION , DRINKING
PAIRINGS! -> GN!Drunk!Reader x Ronin , Angel , Misaki , V
a/n: :3
Ronin.
𝜗ৎ He would be terrible to get drunk around.
𝜗ৎ Ronin is a shameless enabler.
𝜗ৎ He's likely the one who dragged you out to a bar.
𝜗ৎ Likely the one who encouraged the chugging of all those drinks,
𝜗ৎ Also most likely the one to hold your hair back / teasingly comfort you in a bathroom stall as you throw up everything you consumed in the past 24 hours.
𝜗ৎ He's evil, sure.. but he has an inch of a heart left under the coarse walls he's built up.
𝜗ৎ You will feel like crap in the morning, that's a promise; but you'll, at the very least, have Ronin to aid you through that crap.
˚❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
He's already up when you begin to stir awake. As reality finally knits itself together from a sickening swirl, the price of consciousness is the blossoming ache pounding into your head relentlessly.
Pain hits you akin to a freight-train, shooting you right back into the pillows in search of comfort.
Ronin has a sickeningly sweet and condescending grin on his lips as he smiles down at you.
"Feeling it now? You went crazy yesterday, darlin'."
"Who's fault is that?" You snap back, only to immediantly regret it as pain shoots like thorny vines across your body.
"Cranky, are we? I'll get you some painkillers, love."
Angel.
𝜗ৎ Maria doesn't inherently enjoy the concept of drinking at an open bar full of strangers.
𝜗ৎ So instead, she watches you with a steady eye from across the bar.
𝜗ৎ Your happiness is enough to fuel her entertainment, anyways.
𝜗ৎ She's well aware of the signs of you becoming too drunk and when the signs of when you're eager to do something you'd regret.
𝜗ৎ Instead of just dragging you away, she'll attempt to diffuse and disuade your impulsive and or intrusive thoughts.
˚❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
"I know you'd absoulutely love to eat your shot glass, my love," Maria coaxes your hand with the most syrupy tone, taking your fingers to interlock with hers. She subtly pushes away the minature cup, briefly eyeing down the bartender.
"But you shouldn't... What if the bartender wants it back?"
You nod slowly as if her words are all that compelling. Though, they barely register in your glassy mind, swimming in the minefield of pleasant haze in your pretty little head. The warmth flourishing in your head wasn't only the fault of liquor anymore, but Maria's contact against the tacky bartop.
"You should," You supress a hiccup. "live a little, mari... too worrrriiied." You drag out with an exasperated snort.
"You aren't worried enough." There's humor in her tone, but her woe overlaps it more thickly.
"You're so cute when you're anxious about me," You whine out, a dopey and loopy smile on your face.
"And you're adorable when you're drunk. Too adorable. Let's get you home." She doesn't leave much room for argument as she stands, dragging you up with interlocked digits.
Misaki.
𝜗ৎ Misaki is drunk with you.
𝜗ৎ She, unfortunately does not take her own limits into account.
𝜗ৎ They like to share every waking experience with you; and so, if you take a sip, they take a sip. You order a pint, they order a pint. You pass out in a dingy alleyway after throwing up? They're waaay ahead of you.
𝜗ৎ You both are just as bashed as eachother, trying to navigate the way back home.
𝜗ৎ It's cinematic, really.
˚❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
It was a few hours into Sunday, both you and Misaki had been, understandably, kicked out of the bar you had both perched at. Both too stubborn to call an uber, pretty sure neither of you could even recall the address the two of you drunkely attempt to find your way home.
"Misa-Misaki, i promise you- it's that way."
"No... It's not! We went that way already. It's... eerm, that way." A limp arm is raised in a random direction.
"That's the motorway." A car zooms past as Misaki lowers their arm in defeat. You squint. "Tryna get us killed?"
Misaki only pouts, "I am not trying to kill us. Direction doesn't exist when you're drunk, silly."
"Direction exists with or without our consent."
"Kinda problematic."
this one is so dumb omg
𝜗ৎ You somehow always make it home fine...
𝜗ৎ Kinda paranormal, but why question safety?
V.
𝜗ৎ Valentin is convinced he'll never understand the hysteria over alcohol. It's something he'll never grasp, and something he's glad he'll never grasp.
𝜗ৎ When you express your elation over a new bar that's just opened, he doesn't have the heart to tell you he didn't wish to spend his friday evening around sweaty addicts who don't know a single concept about personal space.
𝜗ৎ He watches you like a hawk the entire night while awkwardly being stuffed away in a corner of the establishment.
𝜗ৎ Definitely not the type to tell you what and when to do something, but if he notices any anomalies in your behaviour or the dilapidated environment you were both planted in,, he's taking himself and his intoxicated partner out of there. No questions asked.
˚❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
"How many shots did you take?" He throws you a glance, trying to gather some info on how much you could remember to mentally calculate how much pain you were destined to be in tomorrow.
Your full body weight is slomped against Val, drunken babbling floating in and out of his ears. A giggle bubbles in your throat, It forces it's way through as you choke out, "Only one, i never miss."
Valentin doesn't respond immediantly, occupied with adjusting his grip on you to assure you don't kiss the pavement. He finally sucks in a deep sigh when he's certain you won't fold over like a wilted flower.
"You never miss." He repeats back to you flatly. "You took eight."
"Why ask if you already knew?.. That number doesn't even sound right."
"I wouldn't be suprised if you took more whilst i wasn't paying attention."
Val is always paying attention to you.
He absentmindedly questions if the bartender influencing your incessant methonal consumption could be considered morally wrong, but ey, that's a thought for tomorrow.
is it okay if i requested tall reader x ronin? like taller than him
idk i thought it would make for some funny convos or situations 😭
HAVE A GOOD DAY :3
Overhead oath.
PAIRING -> GN!Tall!Reader x Ronin Beaufort
a/n: Thank you for the request and the compliment my lovely anon! <33 Hope you enjooooyy
a/n² : There are some requests i've tried to honour from my inbox.. but diligence only gets me so far :C i'm sorry to my darling anon's who did not recieve their requests </333 i love all of u im sorry
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Ronin has a love-hate relationship with your height.
On the one hand, it's rare he finds someone taller than him, and for that someone to constantly be around him is pretty cool.
He enjoys using you as an asset at warehouses. On the unusual account where Ronin can't quite reach the shelve that he yearns for, you are constantly his back-up.
On the other hand, he hates that he has to tilt his head up to glare at you. It demolishes the whole menacing vibe he has going on..
You feel the poke of Ronin's scowl prodding at you, and in response you crane your head down, a patronising grin spread across your cheeks.
"You'll hurt your neck doin' that."
The corner of his eye twitches. "Necks break easier than you think."
You don’t so much as bat a lash; and you feel the warmth of irritation seep off his skin from that fact.
You ruffle his burgundy tufts of hair, sighing pleasantly.
"Dream big, kid."
It's second nature for Ronin to tease you about your height, but the second anything condescending leaves someone else's mouth? They will be dealt with! That's a promise.
He lives for filth, and is not at all afraid to play dirty. He'll kick your legs in while making out; both to not strain your neck or his hamstrings.
Regardless of your height, he compensates with muscles; Ronin has no issues bench-pressing you.
Ronin is very adamant about the fact that 'he will eventually catch up to you'. 3 years going strong, he hasn't grown an inch...
Ronin narrowed his eyes in on the mirror planted infront of the two of you.
It was a passive Saturday morning. You both stood aloofly infront of the large bathroom vanity; pajamas hitched, hair tussled and eyes bleary with sleep.
You give him a sardonic gaze as he zones into the mirror, as if to size the inanimate object up.
"What's up with you?"
"Can mirrors be broken? Something is off with this."
"No, Ro. Mirrors can't be broken... I think."
"That's a solid 3 inches." He huffs out in a sigh, moving back to stand beside you again, knocking the side of his face into your shoulder.
"You're still taller than me." It's a pathetic whine, and you can't help but snort at it.
"Always have been." You give a curt, indifferent shrug, and Ronin obviously doesn't appreciate the sentiment.
"I was supposed to catch up. Maybe I've hit a plateau?"
You scoff, flicking a stray piece of hair out of his eye. "Yeah, a permanent one."
The pair of you make an intimidating duo, and the both of you use that to your advantage.
Ronin X paranoid reader? By that I mean like constantly worried about saying something wrong and upsetting someone :3 luv ur writing >_<
Overly overthinking.
PAIRING! -> GN!Paranoid!Reader x Ronin Beaufort
a/n: Thank you for requesting my darling anon <33,, i appreciate your support :D
[an embarassingly short amount of] words
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Ronin didn't take long to notice your little quirks. How'd you'd linger on the 'send' button for a second too long, how words seem to die on your tongue on video calls; like a lone snowflake against a stretch of heat.. basically how you practically had a built-in censor.
He didn't miss any of it. Even at your first date, you seemed.. hesitant. Unreadable. Like your vessel was a guarded castle he couldn't trespass on.
The way you couldn't handle eye contact, the way you toyed with the edges of your fingers like they were more interesting than him, it all confused him. You felt more like a defensive mechanism than his partner.
He can't help but wonder about you sometimes, and your absurd lack of commitment to words. Whenever he asks you about it, it's as if you expect the confronatation; and like all your other conversations, it's an already drafted reply.
...
"Being loud is the only way you'll be heard, y'know."
His voice drawls. It's void of that usual teasing tone. You try to piece together a response-
"I don't need a rehearsal, darlin. I want you. Unapolagetically you, yea?" You don't reply. He doesn't force you to. Just.. glances at you, absentmindedly rocking a blade inbetwen his fingers.
"You don't have to be scared. I don't bite, not without consent anyway." That teasing lint is back.
"But really," He lolls his head back to lock his line of sight onto you, "I don't offend easy. Bark back at me once in awhile, hm?"
"..Yeah." It's meek, but it's a reply.
And, it's not much, but it's something. Improvement was never meant to be linear.
Ronin's certain you'll get there, eventually.
a/n: i went in such a weird direction with this omds,, idk why i found this one a little difficult, im sorry if this dissapoints :CC
hey heyyyyy, can i request headcanons of ronin x reader with high alchohol tolerance??????
thank you!!!!
Pints of poison.
PAIRING! -> GN!Heavyweight!Reader x Ronin Beaufort
a/n : Hiya my lovely anon, thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy! <3 i know nothing about alcohol, 'xcuse any mistakes please nd thank uu. ♡
this one is a lil short, sorrrrrrry
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It was your party trick. Your ability to chug 4 shots of straight liquor and not grimace, not slur and still be fully in control of your body.
Ronin found it funny, the strange looks others would give you when you drank flasked vodka as if it were from a juicebox.
He tries to keep up with your antics, but quite literally cannot. It's no secret this man is competetive, but despite his size, for the life of him he always lags behind you in this made-up race course he's adapted in his head.
Your mind doesn't take affect whilst drinking, but Ronin sure notices how your body does. Your skin is hot to the touch when he cups your cheeks, gazing up to him with this doughy glint in your eyes that he loves so much. Hiccups follow, but he's not sure if that's because of the alcohol or the fact you drink way too fast. Your hands grow clammy, and of course he doesn't miss the mild twitch in your fingers.
He can't help but feel worried sometimes, though. You think you're invincable every so often and drink til' you throw up.
You're on your fourth pint of beer, chasing a buzz you had never really grew familar with.
"Slow down, sweetheart." You hear Ronin's voice murmer out.
"I have a high tolerance." You reply curtly, taking the bottle between your fingers, forcing down another swig.
"Yeaa," He muses, strolling up to to park beside you, "But your liver isn't, doll. So, slow down." He takes the glass of poison, taking a swift draft down.
Only to immediantly choke on the burn scorching his throat. "Dark ale? Really? That's low, even for you."
𝜗ৎ Ronin likes to blatently place bets on you at pubs, it's a win win! you get a bunch of free shots, and Ronin gets to pocket 25 dollars. (Half has to go to you, of course.)
𝜗ৎ You don't know your own limits, but Ronin is acquanited with the warning signs of when your body is about to reject the assortment of ethanol you've already swallowed down.
𝜗ৎ On the very rare account of you becoming slightly tispy, Ronin always assumes you've killed your liver and physically has to restrain himself from rushing you to the ER.
𝜗ৎ Regardless if you're woozy or not, you get clingy while under the influence. Ronin takes full advantage of this.
can i request a headcannon of ronin x reader who loves to gamble like so muchhhh. its been stuck in my head for WEEKS nowww.
thank you!!!<3
High risks, high rewards.
PAIRING! -> GN!Gambler!Reader x Ronin Beaufort
a/n: Thank you for the request my lovely <33,, i have literally never played poker lmao, pls excuse any mistakes
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Ronin likes to mess with people; this much is evident. In his free time, he enjoys visiting the dingy underground casino that reeks of shame and financial struggle. It's his new Friday night obssesion.
You're his new Friday night obbsession. He lurks into the clubhouse, already tracking you down in the room overflowing with desperate humans. You were planted in your usual spot, playing with a poker chip whilst chugging down a swig from your hip flask.
You live off of the thrill it gives you. The burst of adrenaline flushing through your veins. You're well known down here, your own little toxic community. It was a fleeting thought that this would soon be your hamartia, but so far the chips have treated you right.
"Hiya, darlin'. Fancy seeing you here." He slithers around you, gingerly taking up your hand, pressing a kiss to the base of your wrist. "For good luck, of course."
You roll your eyes but can't help but think.. when was the last time you'd lost at a game? Ronin's pre-poker kisses surely gave you a string of luck.
The table was lit by the jaundiced glow of the overhead shabby lightbulb, tension around the casino growing thick; the amount of thickness a novice would choke in.
Chips clinked in uneven towers, cards slid across green fabric with a raspy hiss. The dealer breathes out puffs of smoke before sloppily tossing out the opening hands.
You fan out your cards, masking nerves with a stiff grin. Every noise is heightened. The tapping fingers of the man opposite you, the shaky exhales of the woman beside you. Ronin's indifference from just next to you. You wonder how no one says anything about him lounging alongside you, but you choose not to question it.. not now.
At this point, the pot was still small: coins, crumpled bills and a tacky brass watch tossed in like an afterthought.
Ronin lazily rested one hand on your shoulder, the other idly toying with a poker chip like a lion playing with it's prey. You don't notice the intense glare he shared around the table, the weight of his status looming over the other participants.
"Raise." He mumbled, eyes still on the token spinning between his fingers.
If possible, the tension in the room condenses further. Heavy with unspoken bets and.. fear. The game had begun.
You push a green chip forward, cautious but purposeful. A small risk. The black chip Ronin twirled effortlessly lands beside yours, his grin knowing, deliberate—like he's already aware of how this game will end. The table freezes.
Time ticks by, strain only grows more dense in the room and stakes are the highest they've been in awhile. The lady next to you frantically bet her corgi and now was visibly trying not to break down.
You push a pillar of green chips forward, letting them clatter against the pile in the center.
“Call? That barely covers the runt.” Someone drawls, eyes flicking to your pile.
Before the dealer could scoff, a pale hand slides across the felt. Ronin slipped a piece of folded paper atop the pile.
"Raise," He mused innocently, "a life."
The table grows still; no one dares question the note.
"That's not.. standard currency." The dealer murmurs, hands hovering over the deck. He knew Ronin. He knew exactly what that stupid death note meant. Still, he dealt the next card.
Clockwise, the turn came to the corgi’s owner. She swallowed, glancing at the chips, the slip, and the weight of her corgi bet. She stammers out, “I… I fold. This… this isn’t worth it.”
"See how fast they fall?" Ronin tuts, eyes glaring at the woman as she shrinks back, the etch of a devious grin pulling at his lips.
One by one, every opposition drops like flies.
Turn after turn, they all folded, leaving only you and Ronin at the table, surrounded by the remnants of the players' legacies.
"I think that was my most eventful round i've played in awhile. Thank you, my charm." You gather the stack of miscellaneous items bundled in the center, dragging it towards you.
You end the night with your boyfriend trailing beside you, a Welsh corgi’s lead thrust into your hands by its exasperated owner, and a rucksack overflowing with winnings earned by Ronin's threatening demeanor.
"I totally was gonna win that." you say to him, letting your bravado linger in the air. "Didn't have to rig it."
"I would never. That was all you, sweetheart."
𝜗ৎ On evenings Ronin can't make it to your gambling ritual, he's got connections to know exactly what's going on while you play.
𝜗ৎ You get sloppy when he's not around, maybe it's all the liquor. When you heighten the stakes with something stupid and end up losing - he takes care of it.
𝜗ৎ He disposes of all your loansharks, they make priortity on his victim list.
𝜗ৎ You question their radio silence sometimes but brush it off as luck.
𝜗ৎ Ronin is insistent on being your rabbit's foot during these games. He's not wrong, you always win when he's around... not because of luck, though.
𝜗ৎ Ronin takes you losing very personally. It doesn't matter how much you bet or lost, just the fact you forfeit is enough to provoke his next killing spree.
I enjoyed the chronic migraine headcanons, and I'm back for more if that's alright?
I was wondering is I could ask for the Killer Chat Li's dealing with a partner who suffers from Insomnia/is an insomniac? (Exp: they just can't sleep until they see the sun or know their partner is home?)
Thank you very much.
Midnight murmuring.
(drabbles with...) PAIRINGS! -> GN!Insomniac!Reader x Ronin , Angel , Misaki , V .
a/n: Howdy my lovely flower anonnn, thank you for the request! I'm glad you enjoyed Headaches and Heartstrings <33,, hope you enjoy this too! these r a lil short..
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Ronin.
Ronin, more than half the time, gets back home late.
And very unfortunately for you, you cannot rest without this man's presence. Sleep stopped calling out to you when he was nowhere to be seen, learning very quickly that it's pleas landed on deaf ears.
Nights feel long in the absence of him. Drawn out. Quiet. Lonely.
When he does come back, the uncomfortable prickle in the air disperses, replaced with the wave of something therapeutic. Something homely.
You both curl up in bed, sinking into each other like puzzle pieces that just click. Ronin whispers the horrors of his latest murder into your scalp like some sort of twisted bedtime story.
"I carved your initial into their neck. The heart beat like yours; i almost felt bad killing them. almost."
The graphic imagery lulled you to sleep, not without the fleeting thought of how far you've fallen since meeting this murderer.
Angel.
Maria cannot in good faith fall asleep before you. The recognition you will likely suffer until dawn while she rests easy haunts her dreams.
And so, she swore an oath to never pass out until you do. So, if lethargy couldn't reach you one night, Maria would ignore its calls for her and stay up with you.
She promised she'd sacrifice much more than just sleep for you.
On nights you're more than exhausted but still cannot power down, Maria holds you until you do.
She knows your body scarily well. She knows when your breathing thins, you're on the verge of comatose. She knows when your debilitated babbles draw to silence, your energy is fully depleted. She knows when you pull that cute face when stifling a yawn, your body is still trying to keep you awake.
"Sleep, my heart. You've had a long day." She mumbles into you, her words happening to be the last thing needed to nudge you into dreaming.
Misaki.
Misaki sleeps like it's a competitive sport on most nights, but on nights she's roused into consciousness before the break of dawn and notices your absence in your shared bed, she typically knows where to find you.
It's one of their favourite night-time routines. They'd tiredly make their presence known by draping over a curled-up variation of you, mumbling with their fatigue-muffled voice.
"Couldn't sleep?" She'd murmur into the arc of your neck. She already knew the answer.
"What else is new?"
You sat, curled up in the wedge of a window sill, peering out at the world beyond you. The etch of sunrise began to show over the horizon. With Misaki stroking the crown of your head, the sound of birds and owls chirping and hooting up the city, and the new-found warmth illuminating through the glass pane,, somewhere inbetween all of that felt domestic.
You both sit in silence, enjoying the timid peek of the sun before it finally commited to rising. The calidity of the giant star shining through the window hit you with a wave of fatigue you were all too familar with.
V.
Valentin doesn't have the courage to admit once he began sharing a room with you, he lost the ability to sleep by himself.
Something about your warmth, your being, the fact that you're.. there. Breathing. Alive. He'd never admit that, though.
Instead, when he feels you twist in his arms in the depths of midnight, it doesn't take him long to subconsciously miss your glow, which 9 times out of 10 will wisp him out of slumber.
He usually finds you in the kitchen making up a ruckus to try and replicate a tea Valentin made you. You'd feel too guilty actually waking him; his body does that on it's own, anyway.
"Need some help?"
You swear there's a teasing edge to his tone; alas, you roll your eyes and reluctantly nod.
No matter how hard you focus on the way he makes this beverage, you can never clone the drink. It's so frustrating; you've begun to theorise it's just him that makes it taste so good.
You both sit together, taking sips of Val's tea. You're not sure what he puts in it to make you so tired, you don't care either because it works like a charm every time.
You always awaken back in bed, cradled into V's body,, similar to a shrimp.
Could you PLEEESE write some Ronin x Vampire Reader headcannons?? Also I just need to feed my vampire hyperfixation.
Thank you!!
Sincerely, 🫀
Fangs and feelings.
PAIRING! -> GN!Vampire!Reader x Ronin Beaufort
a/n: Thank you for the request my lovely aorta anon <333 Love this idea so baaaaaaaddd. Hope you enjoy!
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Unlike every other prospect in Ronin's life, he doesn't pride himself in being meticulous. It's a trait he's never really bothered to acknowledge.
When you first added to the server, Ronin knew you weren't anything linear. Some sort of decay was in your soul, and he had a knack for sensing rot.
You were his latest obbsession. He wanted to know what your deal was. Your backstory, your trauma, he wants it all.
He pushes for answers, for anything. Any sort of closure he could discern, but is met with nothing.
Weeks pass fast, months pass faster, alas,, still no finale.
Your Purgetory rendezvous couldn't come fast enough. You're grinning at him like you know something he doesn't, because.. you do. He bores his eyes into yours, like he's trying to extract the truth from your iris' with nothing but hunger and desperation.
Your eyes. They reflect the most gorgeous shade of red, he doesn't miss it. It's a shade he's familar with. The hue of something intense. Something gory. Contacts don't glisten in the presence of light; not like that. It only draws him to be even more intoxicated with you, like a bad habbit he didn't wish to shake.
He delicately drags a sharpened dagger down the curve of your jaw, following the flow of the edges of your skin before resting his blade just below your abdomen.
"Not scared of death, sweet'eart?"
"Been there, done that."
That's how you caught him. How you wrapped him around you finger like a wedding band. A silent yet loud promise of devotion.
𝜗ৎ Ronin loves your fangs. If the two of you are in eachother's presence, count on Ronin to absentmindedly press against your canines til' it makes him bleed.
𝜗ৎ He's so obbsessed with your teeth in fact, he insists on you feeding on him. It does something to him. He swears you suck out his blood to replace it with the aroma of yourself.
𝜗ৎ Ronin's blood is regrettably the most appealing you've ever tried. It's velvety, and unapologetically his. You're sure that's what makes it so good.
𝜗ৎ Bites are treated like kisses in his book.
𝜗ৎ He purposely comes home with the lingering smell of blood sticking to his clothes. It subconciously makes you more clingier, and he's all for that.
𝜗ৎ On nights when the pair of you return home painted in the scarlet splatter you both adore so much, Ronin lazily strokes your head as you crash into him, "Wouldn't have it any other way, darlin'."
𝜗ৎ He would make the concious effort of harvesting his vitims' blood for you.
𝜗ৎ You like to feel him sleep. Rest is a luxury you'll never crave so instead, you find comfort in nestling next to your favourite killer and listening to the softness of his shallow breaths.
𝜗ৎ Dumb nicknames that drive you mad are a given, his favourites are: 'Fangs, Babybat, Drac(ula)'
𝜗ৎ You both critique old vampire and slasher movies, growing increasingly more offended at the potryal of both killers and vamps alike.
𝜗ৎ Every makeout session, someone has to end up bleeding.
𝜗ৎ And Ronin really, really would prefer nothing else.
a/n : loved this so bad, i really hope it sustains your fixation!
