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.
