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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Queue me sprinting to the inbox when I got the notice that your inbox was open! First off, congrats on 5k! Ok now business: can I request something along the lines of Ghost realizing he’s become attached his partner (maybe the reader is the same rank or a sniper or something where they’ve known each other a while) but it’s a situation where it’s a harsh realization. Like it was the one time they didn’t go on a mission together and the reader got hurt real bad (like Ghost only found out because he happened to be on the tarmac when the reader’s body was being carried out of a helicopter by medics) and that’s how he realizes he loves the reader. Because it hits him like a ton of bricks that he might loose them and just breaks down but it ends with him being by the reader’s side and confessing in his own way when they wake up

—Blood Like Obsidian

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

He doesn’t recall how he felt the moment he spotted your body being dragged out of that Helo, arm limp over the shoulder of one of the men in your unit. He doesn’t even remember what Soap was talking to him about on the tarmac.

Because at that instance, the entire world seemed to stop in one horrible moment of mute panic and brown, wide eyes.

Simon watched for a moment in shock, seeing your limp form as the soldier carrying you screamed out for a medic, moving as fast as he could in the direction of the on-base hospital; jostling you. Soap finally looks over.

“Holy hell,” the Scot breathes, head pulling back.

Simon’s already sprinting.

“Give her to me,” he growls to the soldier, who looks up at him in shock as he appears like an apparition.

“S-sir, I—”

“Fucking hand her over!” Simon orders, eye flashing, his accent already making the aggressive voice even more so as he spits from behind his mask.

The man immediately presents your unconscious form, blood so saturated into your gear that the black looks like obsidian; shiny like that natural glass formed after lava cools. There’s a damn hole in your chest.

Taking you up easily, your dead weight makes his chest tighten, a sharp inhale sounding off from Simon before he grits his teeth and holds you tighter.

The Lieutenant grunts and takes off, feet slamming into the ground. He glances down at you in rapid intervals, gazing at your expressionless face for long seconds before it snaps back up to the road ahead—it’s no more than a few seconds before Simon slams his shoulder into a door.

The barrier hits the far wall and nurses all look up in momentary fear.

“Help her!” He sounds desperate, and his hands dig into you harshly. If you’d been awake, you’d be telling him to let go before you developed marks. The nurses are still paused at the sudden appearance of the monster-ish man in black and gray. Simon barks like a dog, stepping closer. “Fuckin’ hell, are you bastards bloody deaf?!”

The others dash forward and tell him to place you on one of the rolling beds, and he does so without another word; heart so violently beating in his chest that he’s panting, breath loud in his own head.

The nurses are calling to one another, yelling to grab an available doctor and get you into surgery, beginning to wheel you away. Simon jogs along, eyes not leaving your face but ever silent with his hands clenched.

He hadn’t given much thought to how he felt about you—nothing was ever going to come of it. Years of missions and companionship with you. You, the ever-present bit of light that had stayed longer than all others.

You, the only woman he would ever love.

The realization makes Simon’s legs nearly lock from under him, stumbling for a moment as one nurse peels back your vest and takes a pair of scissors to cut away the fabric over the mess of torn flesh and spitting veins.

You leave droplets of blood behind you, trailing off the limp hand that points to the floor from over the edge of the bed.

Simon grabs at it and brings the hand to your chest, and he notices his own fingers shaking as he desperately moves his eyes up and down your body. He can’t even look at the wound—large, deadly. You jerk around with every movement as if you're already dead.

The Lieutenant feels his eyes burn with stark betrayal but barely pays attention.

As they’re pushing you into a pair of double doors, Simon remembers he was supposed to be with you during this mission, but had been reassigned last minute. The thought is so sudden he nearly forgets to ask where they’re bringing you. But the man recovers quickly.

“Oi!” He shouts, arms pushing him back from the door. Half of the nurses are telling him he needs to leave. He growls and jerks away from them, eyes flashing dangerously but always darting back to the door as it sways back and forth.

But he knows why he’s out here—and the Lieutenant certainly doesn’t know how to operate on someone no matter how much he did.

He steps back and the rest of the nurses disappear back into your room.

Simon puts a hand on the back of his head, gripping tightly at the fabric of his covering as he fears his teeth might break from how hard he’s clenching his jaw—grinding them across one another like a cheese grater.

He loved you. Oh, God, he loved you.

And he wasn’t there.

Turning away from the door, Simon paces the hallways until Soap re-joins him, any attempt the Sergeant makes at conversation is immediately slashed down ruthlessly. Simon’s shoulders widen; eyes grow more dead the longer you’re gone from his sight.

It’s five hours until there’s any word, and when there is, the Lieutenant is alone again—his leg jumping along the floor and his hands held in a single fist under his nose; elbows on knees.

When he’s able to see you—stable but the future still uncertain, he sleeps there.

Simon sleeps on the floor beside your hospital bed for two days straight, and the nurses are too afraid to tell him he can’t do that. So they don’t tell him at all.

On day three, the man has only left the room to go to the bathroom; no food, no showers, or new clothes. He’d gone through worse, what was hunger? What was the small uncomfortableness in his chest? Nothing. It was nothing.

During the day he watches your face, standing or sitting doesn’t matter. The nurses come and go, the doctor too, and he lets them work silently. Simon doesn’t speak to them.

But he does speak to you.

And on day four, he plays with your fingers with a single hand, taking the flesh and watching it move. Feeling your pulse.

The Lieutenant grunts.

“Should’ve been there,” he hisses to himself harshly. “Should ‘ave never let you bloody go alone, yeah? Been by my side for ages.” Simon scoffs, glaring at the bedsheets. “My fuckin’ fault you’re ‘ere. No one can watch your back better, should’ve known that.” He misses the small twitch in your hand, too self-absorbed with his faults.

Simon was never one for airing his grievances; the man was a master at suffering in the quiet nights. But this was a special case.

Your finger twitches again.

“...Shouldn’t say stuff like that,” your words slur, and Simon’s head snaps up; heart lurching. He goes silent.

Your eyes are only half-open, body heavy. You’ll be going back to sleep in mere moments, but you’d been awake long enough to understand what was going on. Simon watches, but his hand slips into yours. Grasping tightly.

An unknown weight is taken from him at the twitch of a smirk on your lips.

“Care about you too, Big Guy.”

He won’t tell you he loves you—he’s not that kind of person. He won’t explain the panic or the fear. Terror, really.

But he’ll slip off his mask and let you see him, his thumb running the length of your knuckles. He’ll sigh and those browns will give way to the rare expressions he shows so few.

He’ll let his head bend down to rest on your thigh as you fall back to sleep. Simon’s hand still holding yours.

You know.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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reborn-readings · 1 day ago

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What does your mind need from you at this moment?

Tip Jar | Masterlist TBA

Hello everyone! This is gonna be my first Pick a Pile, I'm so excited! I hope it brings you joy and healing 💜

This is a group reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest. Don't force anything if it does not fit. Remember that the future is not set in stone and that other potential paths exist depending on your movement through the course of time.

Pile 1 (Left)

Pile 1, you are spiraling through a lopsided sequence of events right now. It feels like things are building, like trying to contain a windstorm completely out of our control. Change is happening, that much is for sure, but while change is life’s only constant, there are moments that make you ask “Is all this really necessary? Can’t we slow down a bit?” The answer is no, you can’t—the universe is so eager to put new opportunities in your hands that they feel like hurled curses.

In this chaos, what your mind needs is not a sense of relief or control, but the assurance that you are not powerless in the face of it. Life is giving you a wave—are you going to let it roll over you and send you careening head over heels, or are you going to ride it? Change is a good thing—we often forget that in order to build upon our foundations, we must change and grow. You are a caterpillar ready to weave your cocoon, and only you know the potential you have. Who knows what you’ll emerge as?

Your mind asks you to consider an opportunity that comes to you and to not guilt yourself for rejecting what you know is not helpful. Follow your intuition on that; don’t close every door that opens, even if it opened by the wind knocking it down. Consistent work will get you where you’re going. Fall back on your previous experience and build on it to bring it to fruition. There is an upcoming end to a material concern or success in a material goal, and it will bring opportunity for a new object of passion with it. You will create something wonderful out of this chaos—I feel the recognition as something making your chest feel full. The chaos may not subside, but with a new understanding of it, you will know how to harness and weather it.

Other messages - Out of chaos comes creation. Change is beautiful. Satisfaction with financial savings. Bring your all to whatever projects you decide to take on. Having gathered what was needed. Inbox never empty. Kudos for a job well done.

Symbols - Thick forests. Poured-out vessels. Circles. Insects or other bugs. Perches.

Pile 2 (Middle)

Oh, Pile 2, I see the winter in you. Others might look at you and see the throttling of the edges of autumn and spring. You are more than that, but it becomes difficult to tell when everyone just wishes that winter would be over already.

Perhaps you are someone young, or someone young in spirit. You have depended on others to help you make the right decisions, but when people tell you that they’ll help you make the right decisions, you often suspect that they want you to make whichever decision will be better for them. Masculine and feminine, withdrawn and social, intuitive or logical—these dualities have plagued you, proponents from each side calling for you to cast away the other. In particular, I see an overbearing masculine presence or ideal that interferes with your thoughts when you try to think about how to move forward.

Your mind needs to be its own. The reality is, you are a lot bigger and stronger than the people around you. You have a commanding presence that’s a little intimidating, and thus, the people around you want to know that you’re on their side. You should feel honored! But at the end of the day, you can’t leave everyone satisfied, and besides, what’s the point if you yourself are never satisfied?

I see you really benefiting from taking some time for yourself and your own pursuits. You have been wanting to study something or take a deeper look at something—your mind yearns to be enriched. It also yearns to use that information to take action. It wants you to have faith in yourself and your own decisions, and above all else, to finally make a decision. It may be daunting, but afterwards, you will be a sense of security and stability like never before. I have faith in you. Practice having faith in yourself

Other messages - A strong foundation will keep you safe. Take pride in yourself. Take honor in your choices, achievements, and actions. Stay focused. Sudden or unexpected changes brought about by you. Head into the vault and stay for a bit. Have some fun in the snow.

Symbols - Screen doors. Long tails. Something hanging from the ceiling? Searing cold and blistering hot at the same time. Roots in the air and branches in the ground. Blue sparks/light.

Pile 3 (Right)

Pile 3, you are the master of the mind…aren’t you? Or is the mind a master of you?

Keep on reading—it might seem unbearable to think that you do not have a cap on your emotions, your passions, your place in the world—but at this moment, your mind needs you to trust it. Think about it! When you’re using a computer or other piece of technology, you’re not the one going in and individually flipping each bit and byte to its correct position. It is the same with your mind—let it handle the secrets of itself, trust that it knows what to do to keep you being that same, wonderful you.

Has Cupid’s arrow struck you? Do you find yourself longing to be that perfect romantic that always gets the girl? Now you’ve got even more of a problem! How are you supposed to keep tabs on two minds?! It feels like everything’s going wrong, burning down, targeting you. To get past this, you must learn to see your mind not as an enemy, but as a friend that knows you better than you know yourself. Go ahead and follow your mind, just for one tiny, unimportant decision or impulse, and see how it turns out. If it doesn’t end up good, then oh well, but if it does, see where it takes you.

The world is a wonderful place when you open yourself up to its many possibilities, even if they don’t all seem perfect or ideal. Challenge yourself to take action and allow yourself to have reaction. You are a talented individual, and, if you let them, others will see you for that and want to be with you. Allow the rainbow of life to soak you in every hue and you just might find a matching color, someone so seamless and natural that you’ll wonder how you ever lived life without them by your side, that you’ll forget what it was like without them. And allow your mind to forget some things. It’ll just open you up to experience new wonders.

Other messages - Shed the old to embrace the new. Close your eyes to see more clearly. Work together. Touch each other’s hearts. A challenge that you can successfully manage. Recognition. Eternal work in progress (have fun working on it!) Love yourself.

Symbols - Song. Walk with flowers lining the path. Obstacles falling away. Clear skies. Meditation. Pink.

If this was helpful, please consider donating 💜

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

#pick a card #pick a pile #pac #pap #tarot readings #tarot cards #oracle readings #oracle cards #tarotblr #pick a picture #divination

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forlix · 1 year ago

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𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・779 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・hyunjin x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・fluff, established relationship, intentional lowercase / 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲・inspired by That ig post and my own recent visit to tokyo. happy birthday, @astraystayyh; consider this my official proposal (˘⌣˘ )♡

𝟭𝟳:𝟱𝟮 — when you slip out the hotel’s double doors, you’re stunned to find the world has gone completely dark.

just a few hours ago, you were oohing and ahhing at the colorful chaos of tokyo as the van trudged slowly along the jammed freeway. now, blue has been overtaken by obsidian, and the illuminated city sprawls beneath an invisible horizon like stars plucked from the empty sky.

“the sun sets early here, huh?” hyunjin hums as he appears at your side. his dark hair is scented and silky from his shower, his broad shoulders outlined by the denim trench coat he’s thrown over a black turtleneck—the most beautiful boy on earth, and he’s yours.

“i was j-just thinking that,” you answer through chattering teeth, and your boyfriend’s chuckle hits the air in the form of a silver cloud.

“i told you you’d need this.”

he drapes a puffer jacket around you; his arm follows, draws you near. you slot into his side perfectly.

“better?”

your eyes lock with hyunjin’s, then flicker downwards. the doormen are busy loading a luggage cart. the foyer is empty for the most part. empty enough.

“better,” you respond, moments before you lose yourself in the warm pressure of his lips.

soft hair tickles your cheeks like butterfly wings. hyunjin’s been tempted to cut it recently, complaining that it’s getting too long. you’ve been rejecting the notion vehemently, and this is one of many reasons why. your fingers skim over the base of his neck, and the air that hyunjin sucks through his teeth whistles past your parted mouth.

“cold,” he whines.

a giggle escapes your throat. “sorry.”

recently, your and hyunjin’s schedules have been clashing so awfully that you really only see each other before and after bed. both of you are well accustomed to these cycles of mutual scarcity by now; it is enough, during such times, just falling asleep to the sound of the other’s voice, or waking to kisses scattered across every inch of exposed skin and a quiet, melancholy “see you tonight, angel.”

but then, you miraculously stumble upon a free weekend that coincides with the last leg of hyunjin’s tour. he’s on the phone with staff within seconds of hearing the news; your boarding pass arrives in your inbox later that night; now, here you are, in japan on a friday night, burrowed in your boyfriend’s arms, your sights set on a tiny udon joint in the back alleys of shinjuku.

going out in public with hyunjin feels like you’re playing poker. dispatch is your opponent and the deck is always rigged. ninety-nine percent of the time, you prefer to circumvent the game entirely.

you’re all in, tonight.

“it’s a twenty-seven minute walk.” dark locks fall into hyunjin’s face as he looks at the navigation app on his phone. “is that okay?”

“you tell me. you’re the one who rehearsed for three hours today." you reach for the loose strands; tuck them behind the cuff of his ear. “maybe we should just take the subway.”

“but i wanna explore the city with you.”

“and we can, after your concerts.”

“i only have you for two days. let’s start now.”

the funny look you give him says, we have an apartment together, idiot, and he hastens to add—

“okay, i only have you here for two days. it’s different.”

that, you can’t argue with. hyunjin takes your lack of a retort as his cue to begin your journey, dragging the both of you onto the sidewalk.

“i will not be the one answering to chan when you oversleep tomorrow,” you mumble.

his hand stretches out where it rests on your shoulder, silently asking for yours. you oblige before you even process his request, your fingers sliding thoughtlessly in the spaces between his.

“deal.” hyunjin presses a swift kiss to your temple, your eye squinting shut at the contact.

if you’re being honest, you hardly remember the walk to the restaurant. all the bright lights are beautiful but get old quickly, eventually blurring into a forgettable, fluorescent mass.

what you do remember is hyunjin’s excited gasp when he recognizes the anime being advertised on a distant billboard. hyunjin’s flawless japanese as he helps an old couple with directions, and the proud smile he wears afterward (he’s been practicing). hyunjin’s fingers pulling you close by the loops of your jeans, his mouth slanting over yours for the ninth, tenth time with no justification except for you’re just so pretty. hyunjin’s hair fluttering over his eyes when he tilts his head at the camera, the resulting picture so maddeningly beautiful that it becomes your new wallpaper right away.

what you do remember from that evening, and what you would remember in every iteration of your life, is hyunjin.

(you remember the udon, too. it was very good.)

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn

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itsabouttimex2 · 1 month ago

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Could you write something for shadowpeach with yandere wukong? Maybe it takes place right after wukong sees macaque for the first time since he killed him or maybe it takes place during season 4 when wukong gets trapped inside the scroll and sees their relationship before he killed macaque and once he gets out of the scroll he got full on yandere? :3

(Hai, im rlly sorry. i just realized i sent this originally when your inbox was closed. im super sorry😭)

(Hey, no big deal! It’s sweet that you remembered your request!)

Lost and Found

“…you hurt a lot of people,” the Great Sage starts, plucking at the hair around his wrists, “and you don’t even feel bad, huh?”

“I’ve got nothing to feel bad for,” returns his rival, rolling a drupe pit between his palms- a remnant of the peaches that Sun Wukong so adores. “None of this was my fault.”

It’s hard to tell whether or not Macaque is being sincere right now- he’s more guarded now than ever before, even as rays of sunlight spill softly across his pitch-black fur and his stomach fills with sweet fruit.

He’s like shattered obsidian, inky blackness casting rainbows in the glinting light.

“Bud, you made a deal with the literal most powerful demon in the world, and didn’t even try to-

“Keep this up,” cuts in the umbrakinetic, “and I’m gonna leave.”

Wukong springs to his feet suddenly, crushing a few pink-white petals under his reckless soles, squashed into mangled clumps of cellulose under the reckless monkey- then crushes a few dozen more as he charges to Macaque and slings himself over the startled simian.

“No, no, no! Bud, you said we would-“

“Get off me! Dammit, I’m not some kind of toy!”

“No! Lay down and listen to me!”

Macaque struggles under Wukong’s iron grip, his claws digging into golden arms as the tension between them crackles like static. The multi-eared monkey snarls, his claws scraping at Wukong’s clothes and fur, but the Great Sage’s skin is long hardened by fire and trial- it remains unblemished.

“Listen,” Wukong huffs, his voice trembling somewhere between desperation and long-baked sorrow. “You can’t just walk away every time someone calls you out! That’s not how this works, Mac! That’s not how we work!”

Macaque’s pupils narrow to slits, his breath heavy as he glares into Wukong’s golden eyes. The sunlight dances on them, warm and radiant. “You think- you think a little chat will make ‘us’ work? ‘Us’ never worked!”

“It can! We can make this work, if you would just try!”

Macaque stills, his claws frozen mid-scratch against Wukong’s wrist. The afternoon sunlight filters through the cherry blossoms, casting fractured patterns across their fur. For a moment, the only sound is the wind rustling the petals around them.

He gives, eventually. The sable simian huffs and deflates under his old mate’s grip, going slack against the meadow’s grass.

There’s a moment where Macaque leans in, ruffled black fur thrown askew with effort and sweat, still flecked with debris from the Lady Bone Demon’s final push for utter “perfection”.

He’s tired, worn, spent from battle and spent from a lifetime of old regrets circling his heart.

But he’s still Macaque.

“…not in a thousand years, Wukong.”

Even though the rejection is tempered, the king wilts under it, golden fur dimming under the weight of his mate’s refusal.

“Mac... you can’t just-“

“I can. I make my own choices now, Wukong,” the darker monkey snaps, lips pulling back to reveal his sharp canines- a threat, if the matter is pushed.

...but the king just can’t let this go. Not after centuries spent waiting and wanting.

“...there’s no one else who can protect you.”

A harsh snort comes from Macaque’s creased snout, the unpleasant sound smoothing into chuckles.

“From what, O’ Great Sage? What do I need to protected from?”

“The Celestial Realm, bud. You think they haven’t already figured out who you threw your lot in with? That you made a deal with the Lady Bone Demon?”

A pause, sharp and stiff- he’s hit a nerve.

“...they wouldn’t. Not after I helped defeat her. Not after I put my life on the line,” he almost pleads, as though the court could hear his defenses. “They wouldn’t.”

“After what they did to me? You’re not off the menu, bud- you never are. Not after you’ve wronged the Celestial Court.”

There’s a dread rush of panic that starts to race through Macaque’s cold veins, an icy chill radiating slowly through his skin.

“They wouldn’t.”

Right after he says it, Wukong signs and rolls off of Macaque, offering a hand to help him up.

“They never let go, bud. The moment we sieged their home, there was no way they’d ever stop looking for a way to ‘repay’ us.”

His old rival sits up with panic in his shrouded eyes, slapping away Wukong’s hand.

“No,” he snaps, bolting upright under a shower of plink petals. “You’re right. They won’t. Which means I-“

“You’re leaving,” the king sighs. “You’re running away, again. You’re gonna leave me, just like every one always does.”

Macaque pulls his face into a nasty sneer, dark and creased. “You don’t get to try and pull me into some little pity part, Monkey King. Not after you put me in the ground.”

To his surprise, one of Wukong’s golden eyes twitch, lit with a sudden anger.

“You know what? No. No, you aren’t going anywhere,” the monkey snaps, snaring one of Macaque’s wrists in his hand. “Not until you’ve actually started to change. You spent five centuries down in the underworld and don’t even start to think “Hey, maybe there’s a reason I ended up down here?!” Not even for a second, Macaque?!”

The umbrakinetic pulls back a little, eyes wide with surprise at having his usual shit-slinging slung back at him.

“That’s not- shut your damn mouth. I don’t deserve to be yelled at, and-“

“Did I “deserve” to be alone under a mountain for five hundred years after one fight? Did I “deserve” to be abandoned while I was fighting the Jade Emperor? Did I “deserve” to be collared by the Celestial Realm while you got to run around wreaking havoc?”

Things are going wrong, Macaque faintly realizes. He’s not usually the one get reamed out for centuries old mistakes, a dynamic he was quite fond of- Wukong takes all the blame, and he slinks off to hide in the shadows. That’s what he likes.

And he realizes more and more with each passing second that things are going further south- especially when he see the way that Wukong’s hand dips into his pocket.

From it, he procures a gleaming circlet.

No. No. No.

It’s wound with the image of branching vines and flowers, a step up from Wukong’s own in term of design- perhaps someone had grown bored with it

The golden hoop exudes a warm, almost soothing aura- it’d be calming if Macaque didn’t know what it could do.

But he knows almost everything about it. He knows how it works. He knows who made it.

Guanyin.

She had been like a mother to the Monkey King during his short stay in the Celestial Realm, one of the very few gods that he thought of fondly- and one of the even fewer who looked on him fondly in turn.

“My dear Monkey,” she had cooed to the intruding demon, both her warm hands cusping his furry cheeks, “what have you come for today?”

“Guanyin, I… I found my old mate,” he admitted to her, his palms nervously clasping over her own. “And I don’t know what to do. I want him back, but...”

“Oh, my little pilgrim... you wish to reunite with... wasn’t his name Macaque, then? Well, if you do desire this... shadowy little imp... I will lend you my aid.”

Her head had dipped forehead, lips gentle on his forehead, a blessing born of warmth and love- a blue sigil etches across the skin-warmed spot, riding the king good luck and protection. “Anything for you, my dear Monkey. Take my blessings, and take this... this circlet. I trust that you will do good with them.

But Macaque hadn’t know that.

That Wukong had a plan all along, that it was backed up by an adoring goddess of mercy, that he had a damned tightening fillet from the start and was never above using it-

All he knows at this moment, frozen in place form shock- is the tightness around his forehead as Wukong snaps the hoop into place.

“We can still fix this, Moonbeam. I’m not losing you again.”

#Romantic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Macaque #Guanyin #Shadowpeach #The thought of Guanyin as a platonic enabler for her dear Wukong hits hard NGL #Or maybe even being a yandere herself who just wants all her ‘dear children’ to be happy

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yuyusuyu · 21 days ago

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bloody hell — forgive and forget

synopsis. oh, if only, if only she hadn't crossed paths with him. then maybe, just maybe, all of this could've been avoided... except, it was bound to happen by fate. there was no escaping the fate that was given to you at birth.

pairing. ot8! vampire! ateez x fem! reader (not poly! everyone will have their own ending!)

genres/aus. vampire au, suspense, romance, angst, slow burn

warnings. mentions/description of blood, arguing, cursing, jongho about to throw hands oop, mention of k wording someone help. if there's anything i should add, please lmk !

rating. pg-13

wc. 2.6k lol...

a/n. this was nawt proofread... super duperrr sorry for uploading late !! was very busy and am very busy right now but things should calm down next week heh.

send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are appreciated! helps with not getting shadowbanned!

YOU ABSENTMINDELY TAP YOUR PEN ON THE DESK, your eyes reading over and over again what you had written down in your notebook.

MIDTERM

Find someone whose first/native language isn’t Korean + do a presentation on the phoneme of their language and choose one interesting phonetic element of that language and do a more in depth look at it

includes recordings + analyzing

MANDATORY TO FIND A SENIOR TO DOUBLE CHECK THE WORK (prof said she doesn’t want to do it and is lazy)

the last bullet point you wrote down makes you snicker—your professor is a prime example of how blunt she is— and shake your head, deciding to finally close it and put it away. the lecture room is empty now, your classmates having left minutes ago after the clock hit one in the afternoon. you remained in your seat to avoid their trampling, and quite frankly, you want to remain there.

but your phone buzzes, vibrating against the table and reminding you that you have to get going if you want to get there in time.

you grab your phone, your finger right over the screen.

jjongs: are you out?

you get up from bed, sluggishly walking to the kitchen to drink a cup of water, walking past jongho as he leans against the wall outside your door. it was when you had filled up your glass cup and brought it to your lips that he spoke softly.

��why didn’t you text me yesterday?”

he remains in his spot, his head hung low while he waits. three gulps and the cup is empty; you turn your back towards him and head to the sink, beginning to wash it. “i forgot.”

“you forgot?” his tone is… weird. not quite mad, but in disbelief? he doesn’t believe you, and you don’t know why. you’ve never lied to him, never given him a reason to not trust you.

“yeah,” you answer, scrubbing the inside of the cup harshly with the sponge, creating a lot of foam. “i forgot. why?” you pause for a second. “you don’t believe me?”

he scoffs, and you hear him walk closer to you by the way his voice gets louder. “did you really forget? you usually don’t forget anything at all.”

“well, this time i did.” you open the tap, staring intently at the water wash away the soap. “why are you asking?”

“i just think you’re lying.”

this time you scoff, finding it absurd that he’s telling you that. “why the hell would i lie to you?” is he really trying to argue with you right now? this early in the morning? the thought makes you angry.

jongho’s eyes widen the slightest bit when you turn around abruptly. you’re glaring at him, waiting for his next words, missing the fact his eyes are a shade darker than normal, like the color of obsidian, no hint of the usual brown in them. “kou told me he saw you with a man by the pharmacy at the corner. did you go on a date? did you even go to work yesterday?” the words spill from his lips before his mind even processes them.

“you’re kidding right?” when jongho stays silent, you dryly laugh. “jongho, are you even listening to yourself? you know i would never skip work: he’s too important. i work for kou, i work so i can pay the damn bills. did i go on a date? please,” the anger fades from your features, replaced by an odd calmness. “don’t make me laugh by asking stupid questions, jongho.”

“it’s not stupid,” he says, his gaze hard. “i was worried the whole time.”

“maybe you should stop worrying.”

jongho falters, blinking once, then tensing. “what?”

you shrug, “you heard me. maybe you shouldn't worry about me anymore.” you lift your hand and point at the door. “you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

you glance away. should you text him? apologize for what happened in the morning? or do you ignore him until you both forget about it? well, the third one isn’t the best to do right now, but—

the phone buzzes again, and you glance down just in time for the screen to show another message.

song mingi (womanizer? co worker): are you clocking in today?

“what?” you squint at the screen. “what is he talking about?”

another message pops up on your phone.

choi soobin (good co worker): i have sumn to tell you today ;/

choi soobin (good co worker): SHIT I DINT MEAN THAT

choi soobin (good co worker): I MEATN ;/

choi soobin (good co worker): WAITTTA3TTT

choi soobin (good co worker): I MEANT :/

you clear your throat.

choi soobin (good co worker): can i have a do over

choi soobin (good co worker): i need to redeem myself

you: have at it

choi soobin (good co worker): i have sumn to tell you today ;/

choi soobin: WAITITJITK

you: i’ll see you soon then

choi soobin: NO GIRL COME BACKKCKE GIMME ANOTHER CHANCE OLSSSS

“how silly,” you chuckle, checking the time.

jongho should be gone by now, hopefully already on his way home. there’s no way he’d wait out by the parking lot for you.

except he is, or rather, he just happens to be near the parking lot. when you spot him, walking down the path with two guys, you see that he’s staring intently at his phone. then, he looks up, as if he knew you were looking at him, and meets your gaze.

he leaves his friends behind, though they trail after him, and he's quickly in front of you, his other friends right next to him. jongho is rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish expression painting his features. “i—”

“you have got to be kidding me.”

a quick look to the right has your lips curling into a frown, seeing the redhead from days ago scowl at you. the redhead, wooyoung, glowers at you as if you’re some insect he can’t bare to look at, averting his gaze to the side and huffing. “just my damn luck…”

“well, you’re a rare sight around these grounds.”

you, jongho, and wooyoung snap your heads to the left: a man with black hair and cat-like features smiles at you. you’re about to bite back with a snarky comment on how he sounds like he’s talking in the medieval ages but with a modern twist, but wooyoung is quick to beat you to it.

“san,” wooyoung leans forwards to look at the male, “who the hell talks like that?”

san and wooyoung get into a heated argument, and you take this opportunity to step to the side and walk away with brisk steps, holding onto your bag with such strength your knuckles turns a shade paler. but you don’t make it far when jongho wraps a hand around your wrist. he’s gentle, afraid that one wrong movement will have you fleeing from him.

you look over your shoulder. “what?” your tone is harsher than what you wanted for it to sound, it has you wincing as your best friend grimaces.

his eyes, you note, are now it’s usual deep brown hue, though lighter now that the sun shines down. “i wanted to apologize for what happened this morning.”

his shoulders are tense while yours relax. you feel like a weight has been lifted off you now, like you can finally breathe. “you were an ass.”

“i know i was.”

“and you were being unreasonable.”

he huffs through his nose, the corners of his lips twitching. “you’re right.”

you swivel around and narrow your eyes at him. “and you were being weird. how the hell did you jump to the conclusion that i was seeing someone?”

jongho kicks a foot against the pavement of the sidewalk, looking down as if, suddenly, his shoes are the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “the… the demons inside me took over. like, literally.”

“the… demons?” you repeat, confused.

he looks up, looking sincere. “yeah… i just, i genuinely don't know what happened to me. the demons literally took over and i ended up losing my cool.” jongho pauses, eyes darkening for single second while he thinks, and turns his attention back to you, the usual deep brown back. “it must be the stress getting to me and i took it out on you in such a horrible way. i truly am sorry, y/n.”

he means it, you know he does. jongho taps a finger against the side of his leg, something he does when he's nervous.

“apology accepted.”

jongho brightens, “really?”

“yeah,” you smile, deadpanning the next second, “but no more pulling whatever the hell you pulled in the morning.”

“i promise that won’t happen again.” he beams, taking a step closer to you. his arms open up, and you huff through your nose and shake your head.

jongho’s hugs are always warm when you decide to indulge in them every once in a while. he never has a tight grip around you, it’s always gentle but firm. they’re nice and manage to ease your worries and whatever tension you have away.

“i’m sorry too, you know,” you mumble against the fabric of his hoodie. you realize then it’s the one you gave back to him yesterday by the smell of the expensive detergent mixed with that of the cologne he usually wears.

“what for?”

“i said some pretty hurtful things.”

“well, i deserved them.”

you don’t say anything else, instead closing your eyes and letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. that is, until someone decides to break this moment of tranquility.

“wait…” san points an accusing finger at jongho, who merely tilts his head in confusion. “don’t tell me…”

“what?” both jongho and wooyoung say.

“is she your girlfriend?”

“what?” the statement is so absurd that it has you reeling away from jongho, squinting your eyes at san like he just said something you can’t comprehend.

jongho lets his arms fall to his side. “no.”

“oh,” san breaks out into a smile. “you don’t mind if i steal her from you then?”

your best friend scoffs and ignores san. “listen,” he says, glancing at you. “stay away from those two. they’re… not very good people.”

“then why are you friends with them?” you watch jongho’s eyes widen.

“…it’s complicated,” he grumbles, “just—just don’t get too close to them.”

just don’t get too close to them. jongho’s words echo in your mind, the scene of him dragging both his friends away replaying over and over again. you never knew he was friends with people like them, and your mind can barely wrap around the sudden realization that you actually don’t know anything regarding jongho’s personal life.

there’s a tug at your hand that brings you back to the present, eyes falling down to the eleven year old holding it. “sis,” kou says, “we’re here.”

the book store you work at is right in front of you, the words ‘LUCID DREAMS BOOKSTORE’ in gold lettering staring back at you.

the doors chime when you push them open, the smell of coffee hitting your nose. kou lets go of your hand and runs away to his usual table, dropping his things on top and then disappearing into the fiction aisle.

you make your way to the back, reaching out for the handle when the door swings open.

“what are you doing here?”

“no ‘hello?’ no ‘how are you?’” mingi pouts and wipes a fake tear away. “do you hate me, yn?”

“no,” you reply, “but what are you doing here? we don't work the same shifts here.”

your shift buddy here is choi soobin, not song mingi.

mingi grins, “starting next week we will.”

“huh? what happened to soobin?”

the culprit himself comes out from the back, a pout on his lips. “screw this.” he grumbles, his once gloomy expression morphing into a happy one when he sees you. “ynie~”

“ynie?” mingi repeats, an eyebrow raised at soobin’s sudden change in behavior.

“yeah,” soobin says, giving him the nastiest side-eye you’ve ever seen. “because she’s my favorite co-worker and i’m hers, too.”

mingi looks at you with both his brows raised, shocked at the information. “for real?”

you shrug. “yeah,” you say, “soobin’s great to work with.”

“well not anymore,” mingi replies, smiling triumphantly as if he just won a prize.

“what?”

“yeah…” soobin drawls, looking away from your questioning gaze. “mingi and i switched shifts.”

“what—”

“—the hell is wrong with you?”

the door hits the wall with such frightening force that it leaves it broken with a dent. it's such a hideous thing to look at, the dent, that is. it stands out against the other pristine, white walls.

“i assume you’ll be fixing that,” seonghwa looks through the mirror in front of him at jongho, his eyes a deep maroon color, completely different to the bright red coating his lips. “right?”

jongho glares angrily at him, watching as the older male leans down, gripping the neck of the poor girl next to him. the platinum blond opens his mouth, his canines enlarging and about to pierce a new spot.

“tell her to leave.”

seonghwa stops, and his eyes turn into the hue of a ruby. “clean yourself up, bandage your neck. then you will leave this place and forget about it. today never happened.”

the girl stands up, eyes glazed over as seonghwa hands her a cloth and gauze, wiggling his fingers at her as she leaves silently. jongho hears him mumble something about killing her later as an extra precaution.

“what is it that you want, jongho?” he asks, grabbing a napkin from beside him and dabs the blood away from his lips, his eyes going to maroon and then a dark brown. “you interrupted my feeding.”

in the next second, jongho stands in front of him. seonghwa looks at him through his eyelashes, clearly unimpressed with his attitude. “well? you ought to spit out whatever is wrong before my patience wears thin.”

“you had no right to do that.”

seonghwa’s lips curl upwards into a wicked grin, eyes reflecting the amusement he feels. “ah,” he says, “so that's what this is about.”

he continues to speak at jongho’s silent rage. “i was just testing my hypnosis. i guess my theory is correct,” seonghwa doesn't falter when the collar of his white button up is fisted and he is made to lean forwards, “seeing as how it worked on you to some extent.”

“you had no right to do that,” jongho repeats. “absolutely no right.”

his thin fingers wrap around his wrists, tugging them off in one swift gesture. “i don’t understand why you’re so upset at me.”

at this, jongho scoffs, eyes blown wide from the fury that almost blinds him. “don’t understand?” he laughs through his nose, “you don’t understand why i’m so upset? i could’ve lost her because of you charming me!” he falters, the anger replaced by fear at the dangerous glimmer in seonghwa’s delighted eyes.

“so it’s a girl,” he hums. “who you care for the most. i thought it would’ve been hongjoong, maybe even yeosang.”

“don’t ever charm me again.” jongho backs away and crosses his arms over his chest. “don’t think about seeking her out either.”

“i’m not curious enough to do that to your little human,” seonghwa shrugs, “i don’t have enough time for that.”

“then why charm me at all?”

seonghwa smiles, “yunho suggested it.”

“what?”

“he told me i should try charming you to see if it works on you, told me to charm you into hurting the one you most care about.”

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BLOODY HELL | yuyusuyu 2024

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talia-black · 2 months ago

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A Gift Repaid (Is But A Favor Owed)

(I started this a week after 2.3 went live. Clearly this sat in my WIPs before boredom resurrected it. Based on the 2.3 post-quest. Currently in the middle of a hurricane and the internet is out so I finally have no choice but to finish some of my WIPs.)

Angsty, because Lord knows I can’t separate poor Aventurine from his trauma, but let me know if you want a fluffy sequel.

Trailblazer!Gender neutral!Reader

(But I do use the name Stelle because I am a part of the AvenStelle agenda)

Stelle wants to repay Aventurine's gift, but doesn't have a single clue about how to do that. Maybe something just a little bit more will come of their clueless but sincere gesture.

Aventurine let out a well-earned sigh as he collapsed into bed. The weeks following his return to Pier Point had been nothing but a series of meetings, debriefs, more meetings, follow-up reports, and even more meetings. Leaving the normally free-wheeling gambler feeling restless and pent-up. Watching the drama unfold on the Radiant Feldspar had been his only form of entertainment. So naturally once the negotiations had settled and the Fool's prank had been dealt with, the Stoneheart had nothing to distract himself from the stack of paperwork taunting him from its perch on his desk.

Admittedly he had resorted to browsing one of his favorite online stores when he got the notification that the limited-edition model of the Astral Express was finally open for bidding. He won naturally, and it only took him a few seconds before he decided what to do with it.

Aventurine bundled up a few trinkets he had collected while on Penacony and had them packaged alongside the train model before shipping it off to the formerly-named Radiant Feldspar.

Stelle had been by far one of the most interesting and delightful characters he ever had the pleasure of meeting. Despite the power they wielded simply by hosting a Stellaron and being a member of the Astral Express Crew, they were almost chronically lawless and free-spirited. Although, squirrel-brained might be the most accurate descriptor. They could be in the middle of a punch line to some terrible dad joke one moment, and the next they are sprinting off because something shiny was poking out of a trashcan and they just had to take it with them. Every expensive gift he sent their way was met with sincere gratitude. But Stelle's wide-eyed, embarrassed blush didn't hold a candle to the expression of pure joy that lit up their entire face whenever they dug out something they deemed worthwhile out of a pile of abandoned boxes or an alley that looked like it could launch a thousand microbiology studies. Stelle was just so genuine and thoroughly lacking in any kind of malicious intent or agenda that it was impossible to not be endeared to them.

As far as the Stoneheart was concerned, the Astral Express' resident raccoon in human skin could have whatever their heart desired.

()()()()()()())()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Honestly, Aventurine forgot about the gift after a week. Work wasn't any less busy, and it was becoming clearer by the day that part of his punishment for damaging his cornerstone and putting two others in jeopardy was to be grounded on Pier Point until Diamond was forced to send him somewhere else.

Five weeks later, the gambler was willing to take a second shot at that Emanator if it meant he would be able to escape the never-ending mountain of paperwork. One way or the other.

Which is why he decided to spend an afternoon sifting through his backlog of physical mail instead of addressing the two-foot stack of papers that one of Obsidian's lackeys had dropped on his desk five minutes before his lunch break or the 1000+ emails sitting in his inbox.

The majority was junk. He was appalled that most of it got past his subordinates desk, and he happily watched the papers be chewed to pieces in the shredder. A few particularly inventive scam attempts even managed to get a chuckle out of him before they met their fate.

The slightly more personal letters were mildly amusing. Threats from past "friends", professions of love from strangers who had caught a glimpse of him at this place or the other.

He would definitely need to have HR reevaluate the person who handled his mail.

Aventurine saved the packages for last, mainly because he knew those had been thoroughly inspected before they were even allowed in the building. One attempted bombing incident and now all of his shopping orders took a minimum of 72 hours before he was allowed to pick them up. But it wasn't until he had actually started to examine the boxes that he noticed something odd.

One of the packages wasn't so much a "package" as it was something vaguely spherical wrapped in newspaper. A shipping label that barely met postal requirements was the only thing holding it together, and the smell of burnt metal radiated from it. The sender's name had been smudged, which only fueled the gambler's curiosity.

Mostly confident whatever was in the package wouldn't kill him, Aventurine tore away the wrapping paper.

"What in the name of the Preservation-"

Aventurine hissed. His fingers had struck metal, nearly slicing his finger open on a particularly jagged corner. The rusted bronze burned in the low lighting Aventurine had illuminating his office, offset by the shiny aluminum that had been soldered to it. Aventurine continued to unwrap the package and it was only when the last of the newspaper had fallen to the floor that he was able to make out what it was.

Several pieces of scrap had been melded together in a caricature of a star. Different types of metal and alloys gleaned in the light of his office, and despite the patches of rust and wear on it, a lot of effort had clearly been put into it.

Aventurine had no clue what to make of it. It wasn't some high-end art piece if the shipping was anything to go by, and wasn't anything close to gifts people had attempted to bribe him with before. He reached down to pick through the wrapping and take a second look at the shipping label and a folded piece of paper fell out. It looked like standard cardstock, but Aventurine could see his name scratched on the top.

The gambler's intrigue was practically suffocating him at this point as he snatched the paper up and folded back the crease.

Hey Aventurine, hope you're doing alright. I've been stabbed before. It's not a fun experience once the adrenaline wears off and you can't get your legs to work properly. Make sure you wait at least a few days before trying to go out and pick a fight, or you'll wake up with very disappointed people hovering over you.

Sorry I didn't respond to your gift sooner. I would say social anxiety is bitch, but March has been nagging me to stop masking my vulnerability with humor.

Truthfully, I didn't know how to thank you. Excusing that little scuffle at the theme park (No hard feelings there. A lot of my friends have tried to maim me before) you've been great company and I wanted to give you something in return for all of the presents you’ve given me. It took me a while to decide on what exactly that was. I've watched a few of your poker games. You can make more credits in a single evening than I've ever had in my entire life. It wasn't until Dan Heng commented on all of the "junk" in my room that I had the idea of making something.

March 7th says I'm a hoarder. I prefer the term "low-budget collector". The metal you're holding was scavenged from a massive junkyard that most of Belobog's decommissioned robots end up in, though some of it came from abandoned cycranes I found near the Alchemy Commission. You wouldn't believe the types of odds and ends that get thrown in their dumpsters.

I had to ask for Himeko's help to actually weld the metal though. I think I did a pretty decent job for my first time, and aside from a few burns I made it through the experience unscathed. Word of advice: never touch the tip of a welding torch. Even after it's been off for ten minutes.

I really did like hanging out with you, Aventurine. Not a lot of people are willing to put up with my hyperactive raccoon brain for long, and it was nice to meet someone else who enjoys causing general mayhem. There should be another present in here if I get Pom-Pom to approve it.

Anyway, I hope you at least like this gift. If you don't, feel free to toss it.

May your journey lead you starward

-The Trailblazing Raccoon

Stelle

P.S. If you were serious about that round of cards, the Express will be staying at the Luofu for the next few months before we go out of range of the HoloNet for a while. I know a place with great food and mostly empty tables if you feel like stopping by.

Stelle.

The letter’s words blurred from how hard his hand was shaking.

Aventurine blinked furiously. A single tear escaped and smeared the postscript. He set the ornament gently on his desk before looking through the newspaper for a second envelope.

Instead of another folded note, there was a smaller envelope crookedly taped to what had been the inside of the newspaper.

The Astral Express welcomes all who wish to move beyond their past and journey along the silver rails, no matter their intent or agenda. Ms. Topaz has already been granted an Express Pass, so it would be inconsiderate to not offer you one as well when a Trailblazer has vouched for you. The Pass enclosed will allow you to board the Astral Express whenever you wish, barring emergency circumstances or a crisis state.

- The Conductor of the Astral Express, Pom-Pom

A golden ticket was nestled in the folded page. The rainbow sheen on its glossy gold surface was a perfect replica of the reflection of the stars outside Aventurine’s office window.

Those same stars were the sole light in Aventurine’s penthouse apartment later that night as he drowned his memories and anxieties in a bottle of Penacony’s finest. His alcohol-addled brain scheming away as he clutched that golden ticket in a death grip.

()()()()()()())()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

A few days later…

“Hey Stelle!”

The Trailblazer in question looked up from their game to see March leaning into their room.

“You’ve got a package. Well, a few packages. And a letter.”

Stelle raised an eyebrow as March dropped six nicely-wrapped boxes and a letter on their bed.

“Are you sure you haven’t gone over your budget this month?” March asked as Stelle reached for the letter.

“I haven’t ordered anything,” Stelle mumbled, distracted by the ostentatious gold calligraphy decorating the front. The list of people she knew who would send them such a thing was short, and with the packages…

Stelle ripped open the envelope and leaned back, away from March’s prying gaze.

Dear Stelle,

It would be my honor to accept your invitation. The gifts I’ve sent are a small measure of my gratitude for such a thoughtful present, and I hope you won’t object to similar gestures in the future. I’ve never had the chance to visit the Luofu, but I managed to free a few days next week for me to spend at my leisure. You have my number, so if you’re looking for a little risky fun, give me a call.

Your close friend, Aventurine <3

#honkai star rail #aventurine x trailblazer #aventurine x stelle #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine

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buckets-and-trees · 4 months ago

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2200 FOLLOWERS!

TWO YEARS AGO IN JULY I HAD ZERO FOLLOWERS! NOW THERE ARE TWENTY-TWO HUNDRED OF YOU PLAYING AROUND HERE WITH ME?!

I love you, I love you, I love you!

I know there are blogs with way more people, but this is very humbling for me, and all of you make this so much fun - worth it to slog through the writers block, and so frequently I'm blessed with pick-me-ups from either an ask in my inbox, messages, comments, and reblogs that are just so generous/kind/hilarious.

It's kind of a crazy time right now, so I might do something bigger and fancier and more engaging at another follower milestone, but... what if I just run a poll for what you actually WANT me to update next from some of the more popular stories? I think my life could handle that right now without my head reeling/with enough time for me to actually finish it...

#aspen milestones #aspen is writing #deliciously debauched labor day weekend #2200 follower celebration

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toxicrevolver · 7 months ago

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Just coming here to tell you that you didn't sound weird on your tags in the Junhan post 🥺

You were nice and I'm glad there's someone who likes curly hair as much as I do 🤍

AHHHH

Hi. I’m glad I didn’t sound weird!! I genuinely appreciate curly hair so much and I love seeing people embrace their natural hair!

It’s also so nice seeing more idols embrace their natural hair textures instead of it all just being super straight and super damaged. I love seeing the diversity in hair types and how they get styled (when done properly especially).

#asks #obsidian rambles #ALSO #I genuinely freaked a little getting this in my inbox #you’re like a super popular account in my mind and the fact we’re even moots still confuses me #we were mutual in laws for a bit and now we’re mutuals and it’s just like AHH in my brain at that.#also also #hi my keonhee friend!!!#<- that’s gonna be your tag if you pop up over here again if that’s alright.#I always think of keonhee when I see your blog in my dash.#everyone is automatically friend but if you’d like a different tag that’s also okay!#(even if I have a keonhee curse when it comes to oneus album pulls)

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elysiaheaven · 1 month ago

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Ronin X devil reader? Like we're an actual devil

Even the devils are tired of you Ronin! Ronin x G.N Reader!

Character: Ronin x Devil Reader!

Game: Killer Chat! (Stopping requests for now to focus on the ones in my inbox!)

Hell has always been cast as the ultimate punishment, the endless abyss reserved for those who defy heaven’s grace. But what most mortals don’t understand is that Hell isn’t chaos incarnate. It’s order—dark, necessary, and strangely beautiful. Every corner is tailored with purpose, a place where sinners face justice. Heaven takes its saints, and Hell, well… we handle the rest.

You were lounging in your quarters, eyes half-lidded as you reveled in the sweet symphony of suffering echoing through the lower realms. For you, this wasn’t horror—it was righteous order. The sinners who came here were executed in more ways than any earthly punishment could manage, each deserving soul bound to their perfect sentence.

But today, Satan himself had summoned you.

The air in the dark, obsidian throne room crackled with a cold, intoxicating energy as the Lord of Hell emerged from shadows that seemed to wrap him like silk. His presence was breathtaking, the power radiating from him tempered by a charisma that only an ancient devil could carry.

“You wanted to see me?” You huffed, feigning boredom, though the corners of your mouth betrayed a smirk. Meetings with Satan himself were rare—this had to be good.

“Yes,” Satan’s voice was smooth as velvet, his scarlet gaze intense. “There’s a human I want you to take care of.”

You couldn’t help the snort that escaped. A human? You were royalty here, born to rule realms and break egos. Any human who saw you would either cower or scream. "If he saw the devil, I’m sure he’d bolt.” You tilted your head with a half-amused grin. “What could possibly make a human worth my time?”

Satan’s eyes glimmered with something wicked. “He’s... special. A rarity. This human is doing my work. He delivers more sinners to us than any plague or war.”

Intrigued now, you raised an eyebrow. "So he kills them. Does it mean he’s your… apostle? Or just another twisted soul doing his own thing?”

“He’s... both.” Satan’s voice was rich with satisfaction. “He knows exactly the kind of people he’s sending down here. Abusers, corrupt men hiding behind religious devotion, tormentors of the innocent. Each soul he damns enriches Hell, while Heaven sighs in relief at the balance. He needs protection to continue.”

“Oh, really?” You hummed, sitting forward in interest. “What’s his name?”

“Ronin,” Satan said, watching your reaction carefully. “And he’s every bit as bloody as his name.”

“Ronin,” you echoed, savoring the name. “And why should I keep this… human safe? Seems more than a little ironic, no?”

A shadow of a smile crossed Satan’s face, a rare sight that intrigued you further. “Because Hell will thrive. Heaven is pleased that those who prey on the weak are delivered their justice. And you know how Hell benefits from order, from new projects, new sinners to receive what they deserve. Our purpose will evolve.”

You took a moment to digest that. Hell would grow, and you would have the task of guiding this Ronin—a mortal as vicious as any soul here. You'd never had such a responsibility before. The prospect of protecting a human who practically had Satan’s blessing was almost amusing.

"Fine," you replied, crossing your arms with a mock pout. “I'll keep him safe. Just so you know, I expect him to hold his own, or I won’t bother."

Satan’s face softened, looking almost… endearing in his satisfaction. You blinked, surprised. Cute, you muttered under your breath, earning a glint of amusement in Satan’s eyes.

So, Ronin—the butcher of sinners, as Satan described him—was your charge now. This mortal with a knack for dragging Hell’s future residents to their doom was now under your protection. You straightened, taking in the weight of it with a surge of smug satisfaction. A little human, blessed by Satan and doing Hell's work—who would’ve thought?

You’d find this Ronin, wielding his crowbar. A human who could see Hell’s purpose as clearly as you did? Oh, you’d make sure no one laid a finger on him.

After all, he was yours to protect now.

Ronin was in his old haunt—an alley so stained with his handiwork it might as well be called his personal purgatory. A rat skittered across the damp pavement, dodging the sticky pools of blood splattered from his latest kill. This one was a lowlife, a fraud hiding behind faith, the kind that preached virtue while committing sin with abandon. Ronin couldn't hold back a bitter laugh as he plunged the crowbar into the man’s ribs, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath.

The alley was dark, wet, and stinking of decay—just the way Ronin liked it. This place, his little purgatory, was his own slice of sin where he could carve out his justice without judgment. The man cowering before him was just another worthless sinner—a pathetic creature who’d hidden his filth under a mask of piety.

Ronin chuckled as he raised his crowbar, loving the gleam of terror in the man’s eyes. "You think heaven’s got a place for you, huh?" he taunted. "Maybe if you like the view of Hell better."

The man twisted free at the last second, slipping out of Ronin's grip and stumbling to his feet. For a moment, Ronin's face twisted in disbelief before his expression turned manic. The game was on.

“You think you get to preach,” Ronin sneered, twisting the crowbar. “No gods left for you now. Just me.”

But the man, wild-eyed with terror, managed a last-ditch scramble, breaking free from Ronin’s grip. He sprinted, tripping through the alley's maze, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

Ronin laughed again, his tone almost amused as he prowled after his prey. Just as he was about to corner him, a shadow fell over the alley, and a voice—smooth, poetic, and eerily commanding—rang out, halting him in his tracks.

“Why struggle against fate when justice waits? Perhaps the darkness needs an introduction.”

Ronin turned, his eyes narrowing. Before him stood a figure that seemed out of place, yet perfectly suited to the hellish backdrop of his alley. The figure’s dark, graceful form stepped forward, the presence so intense it made the two men stop dead, each one feeling the weight of the stranger’s gaze.

You smiled, an expression filled with cryptic knowledge. "Is it not strange, mortal? To kill in the name of justice without knowing the true face of sin?" Your words curled around him like smoke, dark and melodic. You made eye contact with the other man and muttered a single, arcane word under your breath. In an instant, the man’s face twisted with rage, and he lunged at Ronin, screaming like a possessed animal.

Ronin, still gripping his crowbar, raised an eyebrow, his face caught somewhere between amusement and frustration as the two men grappled, exchanging blows. When it was over, he turned his gaze on you, eyes cold and suspicious.

“Ronin, butcher of the damned, You have earned my gaze on you.”

“Who the hell are you?” he muttered, wiping blood from his face. “And what kind of shitty Christ joke is this? You the angel of death or something?” he scoffed, though there was an edge of something else in his tone—almost intrigue. ”

Your smile faltered, your pride pricked. “Hardly,” you replied, leaning in closer, your voice dripping with barely restrained malice. “But you ought to show some respect. You’ve attracted the attention of Hell itself, little butcher, and that… is no small feat.”

At that, you smirked, crossing your arms. "And a ‘Christ joke’?” You feigned offense, eyes narrowing. “I am far beyond your simple mortal concepts. I am royalty here, a devil charged with guiding those who think they understand sin. My name… well, I suspect you’re clever enough to learn it in time."

Ronin let out a dry laugh, voice thick with sarcasm. “Royalty in Hell? Cute. And here I thought I was the only one play-acting god around here.”

Ronin tilted his head, watching you with a calculating glint. His usual bravado was there, but there was a new curiosity mingling with it. He didn’t back down. Instead, he met your gaze with a slow, almost predatory grin.

“Oh, yeah? Then what’s Hell need me for? Last I checked, I’m doing just fine without you supernatural types meddling in my affairs.”

“Oh, you’re certainly godlike to your victims,” you murmured, tone like dark velvet. “A god of punishment, an arbiter of justice for those who fail to hide their sins.”

He fell silent, unsettled as you seemed to pull thoughts directly from his mind, each word of yours landing with the weight of truth. For the first time, he couldn’t laugh off the presence before him; he could only stand there, fists clenched as you held his gaze with a darkly intense stare.

“You think you understand the game of sin, Ronin?” Your voice softened, almost hypnotic. “Oh, darling, I am sin. Every dark thought you’ve ever indulged, every twisted urge you’ve satisfied, I am the essence of it all. And you? A pawn I’ve come to protect.”

The words sunk in, but they didn’t fully make sense—not yet. “A pawn?” He laughed, but there was tension in his voice, an edge he couldn’t quite control. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking like that?”

“Not hell. Of Hell,” you replied, leaning closer, your eyes piercing his. "I am not some petty human—I am the devil’s own emissary. And you have been blessed by him, Ronin.”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to fight back the chill creeping over him. “Yeah, well, don’t think for a second I’m some errand boy for the Devil.”

“Oh, you’re far more than that.” You leaned in, voice barely a whisper, your words brushing against the edges of his mind, seeping into his thoughts. He felt his vision haze, the faintest compulsion to obey sparking at the edge of his awareness. “I’m here to ensure your work continues, that you’re unchallenged and safe in your mission. But that means you answer to me.”

Ronin’s expression twisted, torn between fury and confusion, but he didn’t move, barely able to keep his head straight as your influence took hold. Your voice grew softer, hypnotic, threading through his consciousness like the faint pull of a dream.

Just as his resistance faded, you stepped back, releasing him from the web of compulsion. He blinked, slowly regaining his senses, but the feeling of your control lingered like a whisper in his mind.

You chuckled, watching him struggle to compose himself. “Get some rest, Ronin. Even sin gods like you need sleep.”

You turned to leave, he scoffed, forcing a smirk onto his face. “Get lost, human.”

You looked back over your shoulder, your eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “Oh, sweet mortal, you still don’t understand. I’m far from human.”

Ronin’s eyes blinked open, groggy and disoriented, his gaze meeting the warm, flickering light of old oil lamps casting long shadows on ancient, splintered wood. The air was thick with the faint smell of alcohol and wine, tinged with a darker, headier note he couldn’t place. He squinted, taking in the wooden beams overhead and walls lined with objects that had no place in any church he’d ever seen—sigils, ancient weapons, twisted statues that looked like mocking parodies of holy figures.

“Nah…” he muttered, a dawning realization creeping in. This wasn’t Earth. This was Hell.

He shifted, or tried to, only to find himself held tight, his wrists and legs bound by something strong yet oddly warm, something that pulsed like a living thing. He craned his neck down, catching sight of a long, sleek, pointed tail coiled around his limbs. A devil’s tail.

A low, amused chuckle echoed through the room, dark and playful, and he tilted his head up to see you floating just above him. You looked every bit the devil you claimed to be, with razor-sharp horns curling back from your head, a smile that was far too wide and full of unnervingly perfect teeth. You looked down at him as if he were some adorable pet, something amusing and innocent—certainly not a man who spent his nights taking lives with a crowbar.

Before he could spit out some snarky retort, you reached down, gripping his face and tilting it up, your fingers cold and unnaturally steady.

"How fucked up,” you murmured, voice dripping with fascination, “can someone’s mind be to take such pleasure in killing? Tell me, Ronin—do you ever find satisfaction? Does it ever make you feel whole?”

Ronin stared back at you, jaw clenched. For once, he didn’t have a smart comeback, caught off guard by your sheer presence. He glared, trying to ignore the way your grip held him firm, your thumb brushing against his cheek like you were examining a rare, broken toy. Silence hung between you, thick and electric, as he refused to answer, though the words lingered in his mind, each one pricking at his thoughts like sharp needles.

You leaned in closer, your smile widening as if his defiance amused you even more. “Come now, I don’t bite… much.” You tilted your head, eyes gleaming with a perverse kind of curiosity. “Surely you have something to say to your new… patron. Or are you too busy pondering all the ways you’ve painted Earth red?”

“Patron?” he finally spat, his voice dripping with scorn. “I don’t need a patron. I don’t need anyone, least of all some fancy devil with a superiority complex.”

“Such bold words,” you mused, your voice lilting in a mocking singsong. “Yet here you are, bound and at my mercy. Do you really think you’re in a position to play tough, Ronin?”

He tried to wrench himself free, but your tail tightened its grip, the tip tracing a slow, almost taunting path along his jaw as you held him in place. “Tell me, Ronin,” you purred, voice thick with dark delight, “are you even remotely aware of how beautifully shattered you are?”

He scowled, refusing to let you see the flicker of discomfort that crossed his face. “I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me. What, you gonna try and fix me? Play the devil with a heart?” He laughed, though it was strained, defiant.

“Oh, fix you?” You laughed, a sound like shattered glass and honey. “No, darling. I like you just as you are. After all, you’re not here to be fixed. You’re here to serve a greater purpose. But that shattered little mind of yours… I simply must understand it.” You grinned, eyes gleaming with a hunger that wasn’t entirely of this world. “You have no idea how utterly fascinating you are to me.”

He glared up at you, his defiance dampened but not extinguished, even as you kept him bound, floating there like some impossibly powerful nightmare. He was beginning to realize just how deeply he was in over his head, but he wasn’t about to let you have the satisfaction of knowing it.

Finally, he smirked, a glint of his usual bravado returning. “I’m just another sinner, aren’t I? Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

You leaned closer, your breath cold against his skin. “Oh, but you’re so much more than that, Ronin. Sinners come and go, screaming and begging.” You tilted his face toward yours, eyes narrowing as you studied him with a disturbing kind of affection. “But you, you’ve painted yourself a god of sin, the judge and executioner of those who dare hide behind lies and faith.”

He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush. and very obsessed..”

You scowled as Ronin’s eyes flickered with amusement, his lips curving into a smug smirk. The nerve of this guy! How dare he look at you like that, all high and mighty, like he had some sort of upper hand here. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, your tail twitching in irritation as you stepped closer to him, floating just out of reach.

“I am obsessed?!” you snapped, voice rising in pitch, but you quickly reined it in, trying to regain your cool. “Don’t you dare act like you know me, you stupid human!” You threw your hands up in a mock dramatic flair, something that screamed more tsundere than you ever intended. "I’m just… just reciting lines! You think I’m some clown trying to play a role?”

His dead eyes, now glowing faintly, flickered for a second before he actually started laughing. A low, guttural sound that echoed through the room, and it made you clench your teeth. How dare he? He was laughing at you, and not in the way you wanted!

“You—you think you're a devil?” he choked out between his laugh, voice full of mockery, “But you’re just a freakin’ wannabe!” He wiped a tear from his eye as he continued to laugh, and it was almost too much. “Oh, my bad, a royal devil, right? You're not even pretending to be terrifying. You're just… pathetic."

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Your hand twitched as you resisted the urge to burn him where he stood. Pathetic? You were anything but! And yet, somehow, his words cut deeper than you expected. You had a role to play in this, dammit! A role that you worked hard to perfect. Every word, every gesture, was meant to give you authority, make him fear you, respect you.

But instead, he was calling you out, reducing your entire performance to nothing more than a joke. You bit back a curse, hands curling into fists at your sides as you finally spoke again, your voice laced with venom. “I’m a devil of royalty, you idiot! I don’t need to play tricks on you like some stupid human. If anything, you're the one who’s insulting me right now!”

Ronin wiped another tear away, his laughter dying down, though his grin remained wide and irritating. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he drawled. “I still think it’s hilarious. You’re like some bad actor trying too hard to be edgy. Like I’ve never seen a wannabe demon in all my life.”

You felt a surge of heat rising to your cheeks, frustration boiling over. “You—” You gritted your teeth, “Just because I’m not out here spouting random nonsense about the end of days, doesn’t mean I’m not the real deal, okay?”

He raised an eyebrow, still grinning like he had you figured out. “Oh, I figured you out ages ago. You’re just all bark and no bite, huh?”

You inhaled deeply, trying to maintain some semblance of control, even as your tail lashed in irritation. “I’m not here for your entertainment, Ronin. You’re the one who’s going to be taught a lesson. I’ll have you begging for mercy by the end of this. Mark my words.”

But when you finally looked him in the eye again, his smirk hadn’t faded. Instead, it was… genuine. And somehow, that made your chest tighten. He wasn’t afraid of you. He wasn’t even impressed. He was mocking you, yes, but it was almost like… a form of respect?

The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning, and you couldn’t help but curse under your breath. “Damn you, Ronin,” you muttered. “You’re not even worth the effort.” But inside, the embers of frustration were still smoldering. You had something to prove now. Something you couldn’t just walk away from.

Ronin finally stopped laughing, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head to the side. “Oh, no need to get all sensitive now. Just calling it like I see it. And I’ve gotta say…” His lips curled into a small, wry smile. “You’ve got more personality than I expected. I thought I was just dealing with another devil spewing the same tired lines.”

You blinked at him, the words sinking in slowly. More personality? You stared at him, and for a moment, the room felt unnervingly quiet. "I’m not here to entertain you, Ronin," you said flatly, but the edge in your voice was softer this time, as if something had shifted.

Ronin nodded slowly, his amusement fading into something… else. A flicker of understanding, maybe? Whatever it was, you weren't sure you liked it. But before you could dwell on it, he threw a final barb.

"Hey," he said with a teasing glint in his eye, "I’ll give you credit. You’re not boring. I’ll give you that."

You scowled at him, tail flicking agitatedly behind you. “Shut up.”

Ronin’s grin only widened at your frustrated outburst, and he leaned back, the chains binding his arms creaking slightly as he stretched. “God, you're like a dog with a bone, huh? So touchy," he teased, his tone dripping with amusement. His deadpan expression was still smug, like he’d just figured out the secret to driving you mad, and he was loving every second of it.

“You’re so annoying!” you snapped, your voice sharp and cold, but underneath it, there was a subtle hint of exasperation. How was he managing to get under your skin so easily? You had so much more control than this, but Ronin just seemed to unravel it all. It was almost like he knew what buttons to press, and you hated it.

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mock curiosity. “Am I?” His grin morphed into something a bit more wicked, a glint of mischief dancing in the depths of his gaze. “Funny. I thought you were supposed to be a devil of royalty, not some whiny little brat.”

Your tail twitched violently at his words, the sharp tip of it slashing through the air like it had a mind of its own. “I’m not a brat,” you spat, almost instinctively puffing your chest out in a way that was more comical than intimidating. “I’m royalty, damn it. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ronin drawled lazily, his hands still bound but his posture completely relaxed. “But if you're royalty, shouldn't you, I don't know, be a little scarier? You’re kind of like a kid pretending to be an adult, and it’s adorable."

“Adorable?” You hissed the word like it was poison. “You really think I’m some cute little plaything for you to laugh at, huh?” You took a step toward him, not fully realizing how much closer you were getting until your breath hitched.

But Ronin didn't back down. No, instead, he gave a lazy smirk and tilted his head further, eyes scanning you with a sort of casual, unimpressed interest. “Well, not cute exactly… but definitely something. I mean, you’re trying real hard to be intimidating, so it’s cute in a... 'this isn’t working at all' way.”

“You’re seriously pissing me off,” you muttered under your breath, your patience already wearing thin. You could feel the heavy weight of the energy building up inside of you—the raw, primal urge to do something. But you held yourself back, mostly because the way Ronin just sat there, not even slightly fazed by you, was starting to make your skin crawl.

“And yet,” he continued, utterly unfazed, “you’re still here. Which means I must be doing something right, right?” His voice was thick with that irritating, infuriating smugness that made you want to rip him apart, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to.

“You’re... You’re so infuriating!” The words practically exploded out of you, and you turned away, pacing the small, dimly lit room. You could feel your control slipping further with each second that passed, and it was like he was doing it on purpose—getting under your skin until you had no choice but to react. You could hear the low chuckle coming from behind you, and it made your teeth grind together.

“You’re funny, though,” he mused, his voice rich with sarcastic sweetness. “Not as funny as me, of course, but you’ve got some charm. Keep going like this, and you’ll be the star of my personal hell.”

You spun around, eyes flashing with frustration, and he just raised an eyebrow, his expression all but saying, You know I’m right.

“Don’t mock me, Ronin,” you warned, your voice low, warning laced with venom. “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, waving a dismissive hand, as if you were a pest he could easily brush off. "I’ll let you get to that. But just so you know..." His eyes gleamed with amusement. “If you really wanted to make me regret anything, you’d have to actually do something about it, sweetheart. Right now, all you're doing is making me laugh.”

The last of your restraint snapped, and before you could think, you marched right up to him, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you. The act was impulsive, but there was something about that irritating smirk on his face that finally pushed you over the edge.

“You think you’re so clever, huh?” you whispered through gritted teeth. “You think I’m a clown? Maybe I’ll show you just how terrifying I can be.”

You leaned in, a mischievous glint in your eyes that mirrored the mocking challenge in his. But instead of stepping back, his lips curled into something just a little too intrigued.

“Well then, make your move,” he said with a half-smirk. “Prove it to me, Your Highness.”

The moment he smirked again, that same irritating, condescending smirk that made your blood boil, you snapped. All that self-control you’d been pretending to have, all those carefully crafted lines you’d spent time perfecting, shattered in an instant.

Before Ronin could even react, your tail whipped forward, wrapping tightly around his throat with the precision of a predator capturing its prey. The pressure was instant, and you could feel his breath hitch as he fought against it, but you weren’t about to let go. Your tail tightened around him, lifting him slightly off the ground as your anger flared to life, burning hotter than before.

“You’re so damn annoying!” you growled through gritted teeth, a mix of frustration and something else bubbling up inside you. “If you’re gonna keep mocking me, at least make it worthwhile, you stupid human!”

Ronin’s eyes were wide now, but his grin didn’t falter. Instead, he chuckled—chuckled! Like he was actually enjoying this. His hands tried to pry your tail away, but it only made you squeeze tighter, your grip unrelenting as his face started to turn a little redder from lack of air.

“Why... are you so... pissed?” he managed to rasp out, his voice barely audible, but that damn smirk still stuck on his face.

You snarled, pushing him up higher, your floating form steady, even though the anger burned through your veins like wildfire. “Because you don’t stop, Ronin! You think you know me, but you don’t know a damn thing! I’m not just some… some little devil here to play games!”

And yet, despite your words, something in you was still... off about this whole situation.

Your mind screamed at you to stop—to pull away, to let him breathe. But no. He’d crossed the line.

"I’m a devil of royalty,” you hissed, your grip tightening. “You’re the one who’s gonna learn respect, got it?”

But Ronin, that bastard, only chuckled again, this time with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “You know... if you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just asked.”

You stopped. You stared. Your tail loosened slightly, but only out of sheer disbelief. What the hell did he just—?

“You... you—!” You cut yourself off, realizing you were staring at him like some blushing idiot. “You’re—ugh!” Your tail tightened again, but not in anger now. This was more of a reflex, a defensive move, like you were trying to shake off the absurdity of his words.

But then he did the worst thing possible. He grinned wider. “I mean, you’re cute when you’re mad. Really cute.”

You froze, a wave of frustration washing over you. Cute? Did he think you were some kind of child? Did he think he could just—?

“Shut. Up,” you spat, but the venom in your words was overshadowed by how genuinely mad you were now. You were supposed to be a devil, a royal one at that. And yet here you were, looking like some lovesick... idiot who couldn’t even keep it together.

Your tail, like a reflex, tugged him closer again, as if you wanted to shut him up once and for all. “You... you just don’t get it, do you?” you muttered, looking away as you tried to regain your composure.

Ronin, however, looked completely unfazed, eyes dancing with amusement. “No, I get it,” he said coolly. “You’re just not as scary as you think you are. You’re like one of those... princesses who’s stuck in her tower, throwing temper tantrums.”

You blinked at him, and for a moment, you honestly couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. Princess? Tower?

And that’s when it clicked. You… you did have a bit of that princess vibe, didn’t you? The whole “royal devil” thing, the way you floated around, angry yet trying to maintain some composure. You were like one of those fairy tale princesses, locked away in a tower, trying to pretend like everything was under control.

The realization hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you felt a strange wave of embarrassment. Rapunzel, of all things?

“Are you... comparing me to that stupid princess?” You demanded, your tail loosening, now only holding him in place rather than choking him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I mean, you’re all high and mighty, but honestly... you don’t even know how to really handle me. You’re just making it all worse. You know what you need?” He looked at you, his smirk almost kind. “You need to get out of your tower. Take a step down. Get your hands dirty.”

Ronin’s expression shifted the moment he spoke, his tone veering from amusement to something darker. “So… if Hell exists,” he muttered, “then Heaven must exist, too.”

You nodded slowly, watching his face, the usual hard lines and cocky smirk softened with something almost vulnerable. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Heaven and Hell… they’re both very aware of you, Ronin. Let’s just say, they’re happy with you making certain… types suffer.” You gave a crooked grin, hoping to lighten the mood, but he didn’t bite.

Instead, he scoffed, his face twisting with pain he hadn’t let slip before. “So Heaven does exist…” he whispered, as if the words themselves hurt. He looked off to the side, jaw clenched.

You could feel the weight of it immediately—the shadows in his eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders. “Ronin…” you ventured, softer than before. “Is this… is it some kind of religious—?”

“Shut up,” he spat, but there was no real venom in it. Just exhaustion.

The silence stretched long and heavy, until finally, he looked at you, eyes sharper, more focused, like a steel trap snapping shut. “Someone I knew once… named Ther,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “Where… where would she be?”

You froze, taken aback by the rawness in his voice. He didn’t ask for your answer, didn’t even look at you, his gaze lost somewhere beyond you, as if searching for something he couldn’t name.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, you watched him, and for once, you didn’t have anything clever to say.

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