raydi0

[raydi0]

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

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

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.

[raydi0]

HEYYYY I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCHHH!!

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

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

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.

is this cringe.. i feel cringe

[raydi0]

Howdy, it's 🌺-anon again.

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..

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

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.

[raydi0]

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!

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

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!

[raydi0]

Hihi!!, Robin x reader who is Like a cat??

Crimson paws.

PAIRING! -> GN!Cat-like!Reader x Ronin Beaufort

a/n : Thank you for the request my lovely anon <33 this one was funn,, im assuming you meant Ronin, not Robin!

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

Ronin understands you like no one else ever could, but at the same time he doesn't get you at all. You're a huge paradox in his opinion. An oxymoron, a juxtaposition, just a massive contradiction.

At one point, you're overly affectionate, wanting to sit with Ronin, cuddle with Ronin, indent yourself into his skin. Next moment, you're sitting on the opposite side of the couch, in a grouchy mood for whatever reason. 

Whenever he thinks he has you nailed down, you throw a massive curveball at him that wobbles his demeanor. If it were anyone else, they'd probably be too exhausted to tolerate your bull, but Ronin Beaufort is always up for a challenge. 

Ronin also noticed how you have the uncanny ability to rest anywhere. Doesn't matter the environment, elevated or flat,, Smooth or bumpy,, loud or silent; you can always find enough tranquility in your surroundings to hibernate.

He sometimes thinks you have narcolepsy. The amount of times he startles in seeing you sprawled out over the floor akin to a rug when he gets back home later than intended is too many times to count on both hands. 

You don't wake easily either. You sleep like lead, and Ronin hates it. He has a mini heart attack each and every time he attempts to wake you and you don't even bat an eyelash. 

"[Name]." He mumbles. "[Name]!" His frustration grows as he resorts to aggressively shuddering you against the wood floors. When you don't so much as twitch -- much like the many other times this exact situation has occurred, Ronin fully believes this is where you're actually dead -- each and every time it happens.

"[Name]?" His voice falters, the aggressive shakes losing their strength.

He can already feel himself begin to come undone before freezing his actions to press his fingertips against the veins of your neck.

A pulse. A slow one.. but still a pulse. You sleep like the dead every day, anyway.

"[Name] [Last.n], wake UP!!!!"

He's secretlty jealous, though. You sleeping all day and still being able to rest at night. It's a flex; in reality. 

Now that Ronin really thinks about it, you remind him a lot of a cat. The way your body contorts when you stretch, your random bursts of enery, and your obsession with that specific corner of Ronin's room where a beam of light pools every evening at sunset -- oh, and the way you startle painfully easily.

You can watch achingly graphic horror movies and hardely spare a thought to the spilling of intestines on the slaughterhouse groupchat, but you draw the line at Ronin purposely trying to spook you.

Even when he doesn't try, it irritates you all the more. Simply dragging himself out from around a corner silently makes your soul depart from you before you have to forcefully wrench it back inside yourself.

It's adorable to see, but Ronin can't decide if it's worth the 24hr long ignoring-spree you pull.

Bottom line is, Ronin Beaufort loves their cat-like partner. It's like a pet and a companion in one. 

[raydi0]

HAIII!! So.. could I mayhaps request killer chat Li’s (or just ronin) with a reader who only thrifts their clothes, but it’s just really funny shirts (like that one shirt that says “lactose tolerant” or “wake up, act silly)

sincerely, 🐈‍⬛ anon

Chaos in cotten.

a/n: Thank you for the request, dearest black cat anon <33 mwa! Hope you enjoy this crackfic! it's really short!

PAIRING! -> GN!Reader x Ronin Beaufort

326 words

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

The first time you actually meet up with Ronin, excluding the horror show in purgatory, the initial thing he notices is your shirt. It's 3 sizes too big and has the words 'goofy goober' printed in comic sans along your ribs. There is a wimpy-looking cat underneath the font, distorted due to the orientation being stretched out.

He feels the cackle bubble in his stomach as he reads the two words through... Cue a 10 minute montage of the apparently 'soulless' serial killer losing his breath over a stupid shirt.

It made you feel proud.

From then on, Ronin was insistent on meet-ups. To, and I quote, 'see your pretty face.. and your pretty shirts.'

And every meetup, regardless of what the both of you planned to do,,, you'd carry a poorly printed, probably 100% polyester shirt with you wherever you went.

It became a staple, one that Ronin unironically adored. It'd send a surge of dopamine through his veins the more ridiculous the clothing got.

It eventually got to the point Ronin would go thrifting with you, leaving zero room for argument. He'd study the way you searched for clothes, heck.. even asked for tips on how to identify the worst possible garments from miles away.

"You need to look out for the worst fabrics possible." You taught him, passing down your knowledge of finding terrible shirts.

The slaughterhouse-losers server has fallen victim to your shenanigans too.

On his latest spree, Ronin wore the matching PNG-printed shirt of a cat drowning in milk that you had both purchased second-hand. Snapping a picture next to his newest victim, he made the very conscious effort of captivating mainly the drunk off-of-milk feline draped over his torso.

V thinks it's a waste of material, Misaki loves it and pleads for a link to buy it and Angel reacts with an unimpressed emoticon.

You, however, privately DM him asking to visit a new charity store that just opened up.

a/n : this is such a whimsical thought lol, sorry it's so short! im dry of ideassss

[raydi0]

Hollow adrenaline.

PAIRING! -> GN!SubstanceAbusing!Reader x Ronin Beaufort

a/n : major cw for drug abuse in this one. angsty to comfort my fav !

1.1k words

To say the past week wasn't treating you the best would be one heck of an understatement. You felt as if you were being publicly hung drawn and quartered by the universe. It had been rough and then some. When it was finally looking up for you, everything came crashing down like an aircraft alight. The turbulence of your life became unbearable, and in response you jump out of the plane. Good thing you had a parachute by the name of Ronin Beaufort.

You abandoned your responsibility's to wallow in the bathroom. You hated your visera. Your softness. Your inability to not crumble being given a few bad days. You caved immediately, shakily texting the dealer you had blocked weeks ago, when you swore you were done with that life. Alas, you came crawling back to his contact like a slug after rainfall.

Back to the present, you were curled under the sink pathetically, a dusty albeit empty plastic baggie crumpled next to you. You warbled to yourself, a gross amount of self hatred brewing in your guts. Not even the drugs could tame the cauldron of nausea inside you. You grip the crown of your head, stroking the base of your hair. Trying to forget. Forget the world. Forget everything. Forget your boyfriends inevitable disappointment.

The boisterous but familiar sound of Ronin's voice calls out from the front door, loud and putting you even more on edge. He called out for you, searching your apartment before landing on the more plausible room. The bathroom. The two of you have a very comfortable relationship... and so he shoves the door open.

You curse your hasty self at forgetting to lock the door behind you. If possible, you shrimp into yourself further. The rest of reality was distorted, messy. And not the nice version either. The stomach curdling, gut grating, abdomen crushing kind.

Ronin glanced at you with a crooked grin, "Tryna' hide from me?" He teases before faltering in the way your eyes don't meet his but instead shake uncontrollably at the sound of his proximity. He strode up to you, far enough to get a clear view of your trembling fingers dancing across your scalp, but close enough to make your heart rate increase even more than it already had.

Your pupils were blown out, and where Ronin would usually find amusement in this, it only deepened his worry for your well-being. He sucks in a breath, shakily lowering himself to the ground. He didn't miss how your eyes bounced anywhere and everywhere but him.

You looked terrible.

He hadn't seen you in a couple of days. Something about you being busy. To be greeted with your glossed over eyes, water stained cheeks, trembling demeanour and absolutely coked-out expression made him nail moving in with you into his mental to-do list.

One of the first things Ronin noticed was the bag. The empty one beside you.

"What'd you have?" He asked, staring at the zip-up. "I'm— I'm sorry." You giggled out, rocking your head into the wall. "So'sorry."

"Say sorry to yourself." He mumbled, more so to himself. Your doped out version didn't recall much.

"Why didn't you tell me? That you were strugglin'." He groaned, mad with the world. Mad with himself. Not you, Never you.

He shuffled closer, ignoring your shame filled expression. "S'alright. I'm not mad. Not at you, anyway." He snaked an arm around your shoulder, hoisting you in. His neck was bent at a horrific angle under this sink, but for the sake of you he adapted.

"..I love you so much, Darlin',, y'know that, right? This world would die with you if you ever tried t' leave me." He stroked the base of your arm, the shapes he was mentally tracing were jagged and shaky. Much like you right now.

You only breathed in response. Though, more calmly. Still erratic given you were on however many grams of substance, but.. calmer.

Ronin sighs, rocking his head back in exasperation. Only to clank his cranium into the slab of wall behind him. He hissed in pain, fed up being under this stupid crawlspace. You snort obnoxiously in response.

Ronin crawls out, rubbing the back of his now sore head. "Glad one of us finds this situation funny." The mushy smile on your face void of actually any meaning makes Ronin falter. "Cmon'. Let's get you to bed. We have a lot to talk about' in the morrow." He grumbles out, holding out a ringed hand.

You take it with a shaky grip.

The night was restless for Ronin. He simply couldn't put anything to rest. His heart, his head, his being. Nothing. He debated tracking down your dealer but ultimately decided he couldn't leave you alone. He'd have to deal with that later. In frantic and random time fragments he stirred around to check your pulse, your breathing, if you had awakened. Anything.

When you awoke in the morning, Ronin was already staring at you, fingers pressed against your wrist, eyes scanning the rise and fall of your chest,, just to make sure. A few spikes stopped stabbing at Ronin's throat when he noticed the flutter of your pretty lashes opening. Only a few.

Much like yesterday, you refused to face your boyfriend, shame somehow weighing heavier on your chest than it did yesterday. Ronin trailed his fingers from your wrist to your upper arm, pawing at the skin.

"What'd you take nd' how much of it?" He continued to trace shaky symbols into  your arm. His tone held exhaustion, worry and something else tangy.

"I don't know. He gives me whatever." His finger pressed into your arm more aggressively, leaving a residue of nail crescents before he forces himself to pull away from you.

"You're gonna' be the death of me, sweet." Ronin grumbled out, reaching out for you again, softer this time.

"These stupid urges— whenever you have em', you tell me. You tell fuckin' anyone... especially me, though." He's leaned up against your headboard, peering down at you. You still refused eye contact, resisting the cascade attempting to escape from your eye ducts.

"Scream at me, punch me, sit with me in silence, doll. Just don't- don't listen to your head." His voice cracks halfway through and you feel your guts squelch in response. "Please." He grips your hand, running his calloused blood-and-engine oil stained fingers across your knuckles.

You rock your head to knock into his hip, some sort of silent agreement.

"Never wanna' see you struggle. Much less alone. I love you, stupid." He brings your twitching hand up to his mouth to ghost his lips over the back of. "Love you so much," He whispered into your skin before planting a sappy kiss on the base of your wrist.

"Your dealer is my next victim for the record. Can't take any chances."

[raydi0]

Howdy howdy, I was wondering if i could possibly request something for the Killer Chat Li's? Perhaps with a Reader who has to deal with a chronic Mingraines/tension headaches if it's not too much trouble, please and thank you. Have a wonderful rest of your day/night

🌺-anon.

Headaches and Heartstrings.

( drabbles with... ) PAIRINGS! -> GN!Chronic headaches!Reader x Ronin , Angel , Misaki , V .

a/n : Thank you for the request, my lovely flower anon <33,, this was fun! hope you enjoy! ((i dont know anything about chronic migraines, sorry if there are any misconceptions!))

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

Ronin .

It was a Friday night. You and your boyfriend, Ronin, had a routine every Friday night. You'd offload your week's events on him, and he'd sit there and listen.

He enjoyed how passionate you got. You tended to be extremely animated whilst explaining things you were overzealous about.

Usually, Ronin would be multitasking a game while listening to you. This Friday was one of those days.

"I asked her to stop and-"

Ronin pauses when you do. He awaits your next line of dialogue, but it never comes.

"a...and...." You stumble over your words, slowly slouching down on the comforter.

Silence and you didn't fare well together. Ronin spins around from his chair, giving you a quizzical glance. He opens his mouth to speak before he notices your familiar dazy eyes.

He softly springs up, not wanting to create any more unnecessary noise for you and your poor cranium.

Something inside him wrenches each and every time he sees your sickly expression.

Stooping beside your shared bed, he softly hovers his hand over your forehead. When you mumble a small hum of approval, he faintly rests his palm against your head. Ronin's hands were always pain-stakingly cold. It made for a good compress in your dire time of need.

"Forgot to take your meds, yea?" He mused, more so to himself. He despised your forgetfulness, specifically when it made you worse off on your end.

Your hand was limply trembling over the back of Ronin's hand, which was still resting on your head. He almost felt bad withdrawing his limb out of your forlorn hold.

"Gna' get some water and your medication for you. kay?" He resists the urge to flick you playfully. You meekly nod, now caressing your own skull. It didn't feel the same at all. You knew that and frowned. Ronin knew that and grinned.

These headaches were agonizing, but you could endure them for just a moment longer in Ronin's care, just a moment.

Angel .

Nights were long without your Angel. You dread the long road of insomnia ahead of you when she wasn't around.

You'd almost always wait up for her in the night. It had become your little routine.

She'd come home, stained with the blood that certainly was not hers, and you'd clean her up squeaky clean.

It was a random Tuesday, later than usual this time. Maria creeks into the house with an exhausted sigh. Expecting to hear you cheerfully greeting her like an overexcited puppy, but instead she was met with aching silence.

Her mind immediately rushes to the worst predicament possible, but ultimately deciding to be wise;, she sticks on a smile and goes traversing around the apartment to look for you.

"My heart?" she calls, in this sickly sweet voice that only makes you feel more guilty for not replying. "Where are you?" She muses, nails etching arcs into her palm from how tightly she balls her fists. "Who am I going to have to kill?" She whispers that last part, and if it weren't as if everything was bass boosted for you at the moment, you'd have missed it.

Maria finally enters your shared bedroom, flicking on a light in which the lump under the duvet hisses at, akin to a vampire holding a grudge against any luminescence.

Maria lets out a breath she was hyper-aware of holding, taking a step forward into the room before pausing. She frowns, momentarily forgetting this was far from a gimmick you were playing on her.

She recalls you complaining about the throb in your head in the morning. Putting two and two together, she could only assume it developed into something worse throughout the day.

A pang of guilt surges through her as she flicks the light switch back off.

"Oh, baby." She drawls sympathetically, softly striding up to the side of the bed.

"Can i get you anything?"

"Just you. Please." Your voice is so... feeble and.. docile. It twists something in Maria that she shoves to the back of her mind. You were now her prerogative.

She swaddles you for the rest of the night, hoping you could intercept her silent apologies for not being here sooner.

Misaki .

You and Misaki call more often than not; it's one of those nights when she just has allot to talk about. You're, by far, her favorite person to ramble to,,, beause you always listen. Regardless of how stupid it may be.

They spin around in their chair, ranting about their target in a job completed today.

"And it's like, that's embarrassing, right?" They halt their spinning for a moment when you don't reply, charging up to shun you for dozing off.

Only to be met with your mentally absent expression. The eyes she adores so much now resemble a wilting flower. Misaki always gets a spike of adrenline when you're in this state. It scares her most of the time, but that helps her think better! probably.

She doesn't say anything, instead fishing out her phone to play from a specific playlist made for calming you in this situation.

The first gentle beat of the first song plays through, and your eyes refocus. You seal your parted lips to give Misaki a lazy grin.

In seeing your thumb daintily thrown up in the camera's view, Misaki props themself in being an awesome partner.

V .

Valentin is naturally extremely perceptive. He's constantly watching and learning about people and their characters. Even without you explicetly telling him about your chronic burden in life, he already infered about your disorder not short of a month into the pair of you guys' relationship.

You feel the ache in the blood vessels begin to seep into your nerves, growing worse with every pulse of hemoglobin. You curse your brain. 'Why now? Why in public?'

You thickly swallow the breakfast sandwich, glancing up to your Val, who was already glaring at you. He read you like a book, and you disliked that reality. Worse, he didn't say a word. Just studied the way your fingers dug into the poor sandwich nudged in your hands. The way the corner of your eye twitched with each throb in your head. The way you pouted when you knew he had figured you out.

"Migraine?" He deadpans at you, tapping the cafe table.

You nod tepidly.

He gingerly hovers over to sit beside you, almost timidly stroking your shoulder. Your cheek sludges against Val's shoulder with a dejected sigh.

"We'll make our way back when you're better." Val audibly presumes, rubbing circles in your shoulder as you nestle into him.

"..so..rry." You string your words together, whinging at the wobble it gives your head.

"My only intent was to share this day with you. I do not care how we execute my wish."

His effortless ability to fluster you was beyond your comprehension.

[raydi0]

HIHIHI, killer chat Li x kpop idol reader please and thank you!!

Crescendo of You.

PAIRINGS! -> GN!Kpopidol!Reader x Ronin , Angel , Misaki , V .

a/n : Thank you so much for the request! <33 I feel like this one drags a little, im sorry! I don't think i like this one, but i really hope you do, my lovely!

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

Ronin .

𝜗ৎ When he first invites you to the server, he doesn't think much of it. Just some desperate song writer going to extreme lengths to achieve some spotanetous burst of inspiration.

𝜗ৎ However, on some random tuesday on his way to work he notices the radio sounds a little.. familar. He tunes up the volume. It's a song he's heard many times before. One he's quite familar with. One he's quite fond of. He listens closer, tuning the radio further up. The vibrato of the voice hitting every surface of his vehicle.

𝜗ৎ He almost crashes on the road due to focusing too hard on the captivating mystery voice.

𝜗ৎ He spends the day humming the base of the song whilst attaining to cars. Even later in the day, expressing his other passion of breaking people; he quietly sings the mash of lyrics whilst bashing a random pedestrians' head in.

𝜗ৎ He can't get it out of his head, the familarity.

𝜗ৎ Even in the server, hours later, he's ranting to the group call about it.

𝜗ৎ Until you decide to pipe up.

"What's the artist's name?"

𝜗ৎ When Ronin becomes certain in something, there's no shot he's changing his mind.

𝜗ৎ He spends the rest of the night stalking you, shamelessly. It wasn't hard to get info on you. Well, it wasn't hard for him. A famous K-pop idol; [Name] [Last.n].

𝜗ৎ Ronin wasn't a fan of anyone but himself, but he could admit he.. admired.. your music. Peppy, but a bearable amount. What he liked the most was your voice. Smooth. Like butter. (ha)

𝜗ৎ From then on, he dropped hints of knowing your secret like missiles in the server, borderline teasing you for his own leisure.

Ronin crossed his arms over his chest, subconsciously nodding his head to the music. He was at your concert, listening to the memorable flutter of your voice. You end the song with an exasperated sigh.

He appreciated the sheer amount of passion you put into your music. A snippet of your soul was nestled into your compositions and it did something to him.

He hangs around even when the show is over, lounging outside the venue awaiting your graceful presence. When you do arrive, it wrenches a mortified scream out of your lungs.. alerting your crew.

You calm down before your bodyguards attempt to apprehend Ronin. In watching the way the Butchers' fingers twitch near his waistband, you decided you didn't have the energy to explain any fatalities that day. And so, you disperse the dispute, telling everyone that you knew Ronin as a close.. comrade.

𝜗ৎ  When you both start dating, he insists on being your muse for your work. On putting subliminal messaging in your songs. On making a freaky track and acting dumb whenever anyone called out it's abnormality.

𝜗ৎ He writhes in your influence, the amount of people you could subtly corrupt.

𝜗ৎ He relishes in you more.

Angel .

𝜗ৎ Angel had been a devout fan since day one.

𝜗ৎ Everything was up her alley, from the music, to the lyrics, to your overal vibe. She loved it all.

𝜗ৎ She attended your concerts in her free time. She caught your eye from the crowd a plethora of times; given the fact you were a fan of her too!

𝜗ৎ Much like Ronin, she didn't think much about a new addition to the server, just greeted them wholeheartedly as she did everyone.

𝜗ৎ Also much like Ronin, she found out your identity through your voice.

Angel basked in the sound of your music traversing through every inch of her being. The melody almost coercing her to tears, before the song draws to an end. The pause only neared her closer to waterworks before she makes that eye contact with you again -- the eyecontact that makes her knees feel week, and her smile shudder.

You're breathless, eye-cuddling her with those wide weapens you call eyes. Angels life nearly cuts short when you gaze in her direction and beckon for her to come up on stage. It was rare. You rarely did it. The crowd roared with raw unfiltered emotion, but Angels' attention only remains locked on you.

You bring the microphone up to your lips, pointing out into the field of sweaty humans.

"You! Cute pinkie-pie with the space bun pigtails!"

The very specific shoutout makes her warm, nonetheless working on auto pilot to track her way up to the stage. Angel's sure she's shoved well-over ten people to make her way up here, and feels no shame about it.

When she finally does make it upstage, the mic had already been lowered to the ground, like a personal segment that the whole world could see, but not hear. It was oddly intimate, the way you immediantly bounced to engulf her into a hug. To whisper your appreciation for always being there at your concerts. To cradle her flushed cheeks aginst your adrenaline-filled fingertips.

𝜗ৎ Angel nailed the memory in her head to never forget.

𝜗ৎ She willingly hurls herself into a rabbit hole of your fan interactions -- had any of them been that passionate?

𝜗ৎ They had not, and Angel relished in that discovery.

𝜗ৎ Finding out you were an idol ,, no,, her idol was both a thrilling and embarrasing revelation. Similar to Misaki, albeit more tamer, Angel found ways to slip her obbsession with you into the server.

Misaki .

𝜗ৎ Misaki is a sweetheart, but incredibly airheaded.

𝜗ৎ They follow all your social media updates, rant about you in the server, their trailer has a shrine corner dedicated to you.

𝜗ৎ Despite the abundance of calls the pair of you had shared, she only chalked your familarity down to being a mere coincidence. Its a big world! so what if you have the same name as their favourite k-pop idol? so what if you have the same face as their favourite k-pop idol? so what if you had the same voice as their favourite k-pop idol?

Misaki beckons over the bartender, lazily flailing their hand over the countertop before halting in sensing someone's presence. She quips her head around, blinking at this newcomer pointing at the stool beside her. It takes Misaki a moment to process your words, adapting to conversating in the loud setting.

"Seat taken?" You repeat, a dopey grin on your face.

'Huh. They look familar.' Is all Misaki can muster before giving a stiff shake of the head.

A moment or two passes before the stranger beside Misaki let's out a snort. "Misaki, your facial recognition sucks."

They whip their head around to give you a thorough look over.

And finally, the puzzle pieces connect. You notice when they realise because their grin morphs into something unfathomably wide before lunging at you in a brutalic manner.

𝜗ৎ Misaki refuses to quit flaunting you in the server like a trophey of achievement when you both begin dating.

V .

𝜗ৎ V doesn't inherently care for any variation of music.

𝜗ৎ Is what he tells everyone who asks. And it's not entirely untrue? He doesn't take an interest in any modern forms of musical artistry. Kinda.

𝜗ৎ ...But he does enjoy this one artist. Only one.

𝜗ৎ He finds it awkward to admit to. A monotone man like himself. Enjoying.. K-pop.

𝜗ৎ But only this one artist. He doesn't wish to know their full name or face, or anything of the sort. He's okay with immersing himself in the trill of this authors' voice.

You and V sat in call like many times before, chatting away about anything and everything.

The topic of secrets came up, and you requested to hear one from V after spilling your guts about some embarrasing childhood memory you hadn't let go of.

"Just one," You plead. "I won't tell a soul, cross my heart." You place a hand over your chest.

"That's your lung."

"Whatever. Tell me one!"

"... I enjoy a specific Korean-pop artist."

A pang plays through. You're staring at the screen as if someone had broken into V's residence.

"..[Last.n], i believe their surname was."

"Wanna hear something funny, V?"

𝜗ৎ He doesn't believe you. He doesn't want to believe you.

𝜗ৎ Because for once, V had enough awareness to be embarrassed.

𝜗ৎ Blood rushes to his ears first, btw.

𝜗ৎ In the future when he misses you, he buys your merch to console himself whilst you're on your surplus of tours which he humbly refuses to partake in. (he's afraid of breaking your 'flow')

[raydi0]

Being hired to kill the same person .

PARING! -> Misaki x GN!Assassin!Reader

a/n : first fic posted i'm sorry for any mistakes! I flipping love Misaki, but i don't know how to give them the justice they deserve :C !!! not sure how to feel abt this one tbh.. Ronin one coming soon!

979 words

Unlike many other factors in Misaki's life, she was suprisingly punctual; job performance wise. 

All that meant was that they weren't ever late to a job. Not inherently early, but always on time. 

You didn't follow suite in this case. You took your assasination job extremely seriously. From mapping out your targets daily routines, their exact steps, their relationship status' basicaly their overall lifestyle, you had no time for mistakes. 

Which led you to this scenario. You were perched on a rooftop, checking your ammo hadn't jammed or anything of the sort whilst you waited the remaining 10 minutes for your target to make an appearance. This routine was emmedded into you. It's all you knew. All you needed to know. A sad life to live, but.. you get by. 

You shove away the self-pitying feelings tapping across your spinal, taking in a sharp breath. You lift your wrist to eye the clock ticking away. 7 minutes, give or take. 

Just gotta wait it out. 

!

You feel your soul drop to the ground when you hear an obnoxious creeking sound behind you. The sound you had formally grimaced at whilst sneaking into to this abandoned stack of architecture. 

Snapping your head around, you can't help but stare. The dumfounded expression on your face worsens when you notice the Remmington 700 clutched in their hands. The same model as yours. 

They don't even notice you. What kind of professional gun wielder doesn't notice their surroundings? You flick your eyes back down to your watch. 5 minutes, give or take. 

You silently paw at the handheld gun that was nudged to the back of your bag, swiftly re-loading your pistol. 

"Pause." You demanded, rolling to your knees before rising back up. 

The stranger squeaked, snapping their head to you. 

"No way. Was this a setup?" They blurted, a bewildered expression melted onto their face. 

"A set-up-? Right. What's going on, why're you here." You weren't one to judge over appearance but this character certianly didn't strike you for any sort of figure of authority. 

"I was set to kill some guy." She shrugs, patting the nozzle of her weapen. 

The way she spoke only irked you. Being so extremely open about a job that could put them on death row. You chalked it up to her being.. simply unitelligiable. 

"Jacob Marley." They continue and you resist doing a triple take. 

"In his 50s, i think. 5'11, brown hair; but he's kinda balding-"

Yep, that's your guy. There's no doubt. 

"We were set to kill the same person." You lower your gun. Only slightly. You refuse to let yourself falter so quickly. 

"No way!" They beamed at you. And you're no phyciatrist, but it seems genuine. It flusters you slightly. "This is like that forced proxmity trope." You wish you didn't know what they meant. For once in your overly serious life, you wavered. Your grip around your pistol wavers and you feel your arm go limp. You swallow thickly. 

"Who were you hired by?" You question, more colliqual than you had ever been with anyone else before. 

"Some chick named Candy." 

You nod slowly. You were hired by different people. It was just a convienance- Inconvinecne. It was an inconvience for both parties. You grumble at your mind betraying you.

"So we're partners?" She spoke up again, and you flush again. Your ears begin to burn intensely as you pathetically flail your free hand to dismiss her. "It means nothing. If he dies, we both get payed, got it?" 

When your eyes find your wrist again, you feel your skin crawl. In your however many years of being in this occupation, you had never missed a shot, figuratively or literally. You bring your watch closer to your face... Negative 3 minutes, give or take. You spin around silently albeit frantically to peer over the railing to see if you could catch a glimpse of this man. 

Despite the meditated time you had calculated the man to make a public appearance at that you had spent the past week staving away at; he had just left. huh. Human's aren't that predictable after all. You stoop to the ground, nuzzling yourself into position. You felt the strangers presenence lurking behind you, and you would have no shame in lying and saying your trigger finger didn't tremble being in the midst of their vicinity. 

The shot was near to silent, but thwipped through the air nonetheless, cutting through any attempt to slow down in the pressure of air resistance. 

"Headshot." She whispered, downing a plastic cup of liquid whilst lounging beside you. 

You let out a shaky breath you were unaware of holding when the man falls dead, looking back at the stranger with the pretty streaks of red in their hair. 

The routine you had embedded into yourself had changed today. It strangely made you yearn for some sort of alteration. 

Years.. no, decades of following the same mundane routine had been eating at you, and you hadn't given yourself enough time to actually understand it.  All these thoughts bombarded your head as you simply gazed at the individual above you. 

"[Name]." You mumble, now diverting your eyes to your rifle, gingerly putting the firearm back in it's protective casing.

They take a moment to catch your drift before that same joy-filled expression spreads from cheek to cheek. 

"Misaki! I'm Misaki. That's a cool name, [Name]." Her grin only grows further. "I can't believe i have an assassin buddy! I should add you to the server! We're gonna be the best duo like, ever!" 

Somewhere in an alternate universe you couldn't let anyone tamper with your routine. It was apart of you, after all. Misaki would have personally met the muzzle of your sidearm far before meeting [Name.] 

But for now, this was okay. For now, you could impliment them into your routine. 

not proofread

[raydi0]

♡ INTRODUCTION ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Hiyaaa,,, I'm Ray-Ray!

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!! :(

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: Killer chat!

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!