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bubblingbowie · 1 day ago

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just read your little logan smut with flower mutant!reader. ugh!! it was literally so sweet !! all the little nicknames for her “his flustered girl?” “the sweetest thing.” UGH i’m clawing my hair out it’s so good.

it made me think like what happens if he were to like overstimulate her or something. or maybe she’s had a bad day, or logan had been out on a mission and she misses him. and so when he gets back and pounds her into the mattress, bc duh obviously he missed his girl, little vines of some climbing flower wrap around his arms where he holds her, and eventually up his biceps, around his waist where they can sprawl over his abs, all of her favorite places of logan. and obviously she doesn’t realize it bc she’s too lost in how logan makes her feel and how much she missed him.

oh and maybe when she realizes, they start to retract because she’s so embarrassed !! and logan’s all like “hey, now don’t pull away from me, pretty girl,” and just kisses every inch of her and holds her close. please i’m obsessed. logan and his pretty flower girl are all i need !!!

a/n: YALLLL she's back. i literally had a whole other fic i was writing but this ask shot me and i just had to so thank u anon :) i will post the other fic soon but for now! be kind to me work has been busy i love uuuu enjoy!

Logan Howlett x f!reader | 18+ i'll bop you between ya eyes | flower!mutant :)

you all but jump into Logan's arms. 19 hours away; of silence. it was necessary for his stupid mission but agony for his darling love back at their cabin in the woods. he couldn't even make it inside, you ran out so he wouldn't have to find you in the house. "hey, sweet-pea." he gruffs, your eyes just beaming. he sure doesn't miss the dandelions that you leave behind with each step.

"about time! you said you'd be home by ten! god i was worried sick, i-i didn't know if i should cook dinner or not so there's nothing to eat." you babble, worried and running up the wall with meaningless stress. he just watches with a keen eye.

his hand ushers to your head, petting so sweetly to calm you down. "hey. hey. 'm alright, dolly. don't even care about dinner." and then the softest kiss to your forehead. "just happy you're here." like you'd be gone when he came back.

you're relaxed in his palm, eyes glued up to him. it's like he never left you. "bought some whiskey for you though." oh he's dating an angel, he knows it. and your proud smile just sends him in a frenzy of wanting to sip and stay with you in the living room or carry you over his shoulder to your bed. he wants the latter so badly.

he chuckles lowly and wraps his big burly arms wrap around your waist, his nose nudging under your ear. "too kind to me, baby." he murmurs. your all too familiar scent envelopes him and the switch is flipped. he has you to himself again. and Logan is just sooo greedy for his girl.

greedy and impatient. he all but shoves his large backpack into the corner of your shared room before you're thrown on the gentle plushness of the comforter. and you even made the bed for him, his sweetest girl. he's panting, eyes blown while your sweater rises up on your skin. the most he can do while he's crawling towards you is press the softest pecks on your knees and the front of your calves.

"missed you so bad." you're heart flips in its place, the sight of big bad Wolverine slinking slowly up your legs worshipping every inch he saw just too much.

"it was only a day." you chuckle, a hazy grin on your lips. your hands trail down to his hair, running through it with a smile. its fuel to the fire.

there's a small nip onto your thigh from the comment. "you say that like i don't need you every fucking minute of the it." he's quick to peel off pesky clothing in the way of the grand prize. both your tops and your own shorts were laid lazily on the floor. Logan nearly ripped it all off, his teeth baring a few times with how wanton he seemed. it's just you in your cute cotton panties and he aches all over for you. "can i? christ- lemme have you dolly, please?" you gulp, cheeks red and knees weak.

"please. yes please, need you so bad" oh how you're eyes go wide when you're desperate. Logan's hand gliding up and up your abdomen, a soft gleam shown with how smooth you've stayed. fingers run over the breasts he's worshipped so many times. after all that's been done, you've stayed his sweetest girl. so sweet you'd let him fuck you silly so quickly!

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

"i know sweetie, so deep, ain't i? jus' feel good, petal" he cooed so sweetly with your legs on his shoulders, pressed so lean against the silk pillowcases (bought by you but loved the most by Logan).

"oh fuck! 's so good, god-!" your eyes were screwed shut. you couldn't keep up, it always happens. senses get clogged up with how his dick stretches you so nice. all you hear is the quickness of skin on skin, his movement so unforgiving. you see Logan with a slacked jaw from how sloppy he's gotten you even within the few moments he's had you back in his arms.

but what you feel? you feel heaven and light all at once. you feel loved and loving, your skin melting into his. wanting him closer. to stay. on Logan's end, he's relishing in your sweet noises. just working along to keep your legs shaking, keep those warm tears falling down your cheeks, keep those vines growing your skin onto his hands rested on your waist. Logan does a double take.

the vines. oh shit. gardening again! just like those weeks ago with the wisteria. he remembers how red you were when your eyes laid upon those flowers. poor thing, your first thought was you hurt him. sure, like your mind would ever let yourself harm him. he prays it's a normal occurrence now, maybe he's a good man after all if you're so willing. a beautiful creation he has laid out so beautifully and for him?

yeah, you're growing more for him. "thas' it dolly, just feel good. you like my cock so bad? hm?" in your head, he's just talking about how you've gone limb from how the head of his cock rams deep into what feels like your gut. makes you so dumb you nod eagerly. he grins. the vines grow and grow to where they keep his hands attached to curve of your lower back. he can't loose you in all this now, can he?

Logan's just happy you've had your eyes welted shut focused on the bliss he's giving you, moaning like it's second nature. you were a vision beyond anything he'd seen with your charming trailing plants making him keep fucking into you. even the most darling buds pop next to the leaves.

"some pretty flowers for me too, huh?" Logan curses himself for saying that when your eyes meekly open, the words unfamiliar from his lips when it came to being fucked into a mattress. and then they're quarters from there. wide and beady while watching the fruits of your labor spinning and twisting up your lovers arms while he fucks you so good.

"oh...L-Lo, ah! i'm sorry i'll stop- fuck!" you really wanted to be sorry and pitying, to cry more than you were but from sheer humiliation. not from blinding pleasure. but maybe the vines had the good idea. they're not constricting yet not too different from your clawing hands onto his back.

he simply shakes his head. "nah. nah, keep em. lemme see it all, petal, please." embarrassment subsides. it's your Logan! there's no need for it. your shoulders relax with your head lulling back into the pillow, too cock drunk to think of ever letting this stop. more vines blossom onto his broad shoulders now. he'd be covered by the end of the night at this rate. "good girl, there we go..." the vines were kind enough to let his arm bend down to your cheeks pressing haste kisses on your flushed skin, peppering and spoiling you for you compliance. always so eager to please. his filthy girl.

he's insatiable, eager for more. his hips buck into you with more intent. to push you over, to have you more intimately. or to put it plainly, to feel you cum hard on his cock. and with how you clench around him with your little noises of "ah! ah! ah!" his lips capture yours in a sloppy kiss. all teeth while he drinks in every muffled moan. you just taste like fucking candy everywhere he puts his mouth, you're magic incarnate. in all his blistering years barely alive he's never known a feeling like having you below him so desperate to have his cock.

he doesn't know it but his stroke are getting messy. he's getting close and you're right behind him, your back arching into the sheets. he has to move his hands. his knuckles feel raw where those three shiny blades seep out. Logan's all too familiar with it. though he didn't think moving your flora would be so easy when detaching his hands to avoid an accidental injury to his lady.

fingers wrap around the bed frame with another large palm cradling your head to face him. you face the foliage you've made on his shoulders, and now, his chest. what a sight. seeing the ivy leaves decorate him and his specially carved abs.

oh you were a weak woman. "fuck, 'm gonna cum! more, please gimme more-" you cry out, now pulling him in by those strong stems able to carry while buildings. no longer auto pilot. you're all too aware. he groans, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head.

"doin' that on purpose now, bub" oh you were. you simply wanted his fat cock deeper for when he unloads inside your poor pussy. you smile with mischief. his brows furrow. his pace picks up once more, groans turning to growls while the bed shakes with the direction force from his hands. beastly man he was . "cum with me, baby. cum on this cock and i'll fill ya up. i'll get y'so full, whatever you want"

and that's was all you needed for you're poor hole to clench violently while you drip down his thighs with a broken cry out. the vines tighten then expand, crawling out onto the bed with a poof. even cuter, the flowers bloom. he relishes in seeing his girls pretty pussy make a mess on him he just needs to return the favor. feeling the subtle clenching from your orgasm, he's cumming with one last mean buck of the hips.

"fucking christ-!" his claws unsheathe into the wall, his other set of knuckles driving into the mattress next to you while he grinds slowly to dump every drop into you. his veins on his forehead nearly pop, his eyes only watching your glossy pupils zeroed on abs. so shameless you were. he pants out with his entire body breathing with him.

he settles slowly, his claws reeling back from exhaustion. your plants remain however. yet he's only settled on you. his hands begin their soothing, his thumbs caressing your cheeks while you catch your breathe. "easy now. you okay? did i hurt you at all?" your head shakes in his grasp, eyes lazily opening to meet his eyes. your poor guy, he thinks anytime those knives come out around you he'll dice you on accident.

"spooked me." you mumble, but half heartedly. the smile on your lips shows it's a joke. Logan only huffs.

"it's only hot when you loose control." you gasp, a hand playfully patting his arm clad with your leaves. he chuckles while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

his sweetest flower, back in his arms again.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

dt: @nervous-person @clownprinzzzz

ask for a dt ! ! ! !

#x plus size reader #plus size reader #x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan wolverine #wolverine #i'm in love with flower mutant btw #you'll get more of her TRUST #logan howlett x flower!mutant

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puck-luck · 8 hours ago

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plz feed us a little quinn blurb i need him so bad

mattias anon and i were talking about quinn's hand after seeing this pic of the injury the other day:

and i said "how is he meant to finger you in these conditions" and she replied "good thing he has a mouth!" so here is a munch!quinn thought :)

Quinn's eyes are dark as they stare up at you, cataloguing each contortion of your expression. His eyes seem to glint with pride each time his tongue draws a moan from you, alternating between your clit and your entrance.

He'll tease you one minute, then overwhelm you the next. He'll trace his tongue along the rim of your hole before dipping inside, licking into you as far as he can before pulling away. He'll circle his lips around your clit and suck harshly until you're writhing beneath him, latching onto the bundle of nerves the same way he does with your nipples.

Quinn has never been one to complain about having something in his mouth– not when that something is as pretty and as tasty and as vocal as you.

"Does it feel good, baby?" Quinn will ask knowingly, pulling away to give you a moment of reprieve before diving back in.

"Mhm," you hum, high in the back of your throat. You're so pent up from his tongue that yours feels too twisted to form words.

"So sweet," Quinn murmurs, licking a stripe up your cunt with the flat of his tongue. Then, he peppers kisses all over your inner thighs, finally returning to your core to toy with your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks over it rapidly, sending shockwaves through your system.

Quinn's gaze seems to dance with laughter when you arch off the bed and moan, hands flying to his hair and fisting the strands. His eyelids flutter when you pull at the mess of dark waves atop his head, the vibrations from his own moan traveling up your spine.

"Gonna come from just my mouth, baby?" Quinn asks. Sounding extra pitiful, he adds, "It's too bad I can't fuck you with my fingers. I know how you love being full." His face breaks into a smile, smug as he dives back in and prods at your hole. He nudges your clit with his nose, making sure to catch your reaction.

You don't bring up that his other hand works just fine, and he could use that instead, because you're caught up in the way your stomach coils. His tongue pushes past your entrance and pets your walls, and his nose bumps your clit again, and again, and again. Your hips are moving mindlessly, grinding against his face as you chase your orgasm, and Quinn simply looks up at you though his eyelashes. He never enjoys himself quite as much as he does when you use him to find your own climax.

ps! i have a few beaquinn ideas and quinn x reader ideas that i've been playing with in my mind, but i'm trying to finish stg10 at the moment. so those will come one day. i want to be better about posting more often!! i feel like i am not... but that's allowed. just keep letting me know what y'all want to read and i'll add it to the list :)

#andy's asks🥤#andy writes anything🍄#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #nhl smut #nhl blurb

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echo-riot · 6 hours ago

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Posting somthing that isn’t sevika???? Unheard of

Anyways-

VI DATING HEADCANONS + a Cute Drabble

Vi is naturally protective of her girl. Whether you’re in Piltover or Zaun, she insists on walking you home, her arm wrapped securely around your waist. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, she’ll shoot them a death glare—or worse.

Vi is incredibly touchy. She loves holding your hand, resting her chin on your shoulder, or pulling you into a hug from behind. Her love language is physical touch, and she craves that connection constantly.

Vi shows her love through actions. She’ll fix things around your place, bring you your favorite snack, or leave her jacket draped over your shoulders when you’re cold.

Vi loves simple dates—grabbing greasy food from street vendors, exploring Zaun’s markets, or sparring with you just for fun. But she’ll also surprise you with occasional grand gestures, like taking you to a rooftop to watch the city lights.

Vi tries to play it cool, but she’s easily jealous. If someone flirts with you, she’ll wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your temple, making it crystal clear you’re hers

She doesn’t care much about social norms or what others think. If someone makes a snide comment about you, she won’t hesitate to step in, fists clenched and ready to defend you

While she loves teasing, Vi has a soft spot for calling you endearing names when it’s just the two of you—“baby,” “love,” or even a unique nickname tied to an inside joke. She tries out the weirdest nicknames for you too, ranging from “Snuggle Punch” to “Hot Pocket.” The worst part? She says them with complete sincerity. You had to veto “Big Toe”

Vi has exactly three cooking settings: “burnt,” “raw,” and “how is the fire alarm not going off yet?” Every date night she insists she’ll “nail it this time,” and every date night ends with takeout and her swearing vengeance on your oven.

She constantly tries to convince you that chips and energy drinks are a balanced meal. If you so much as suggest eating a vegetable, she’ll dramatically gag and say, “I didn’t survive the Lanes to die of kale poisoning, babe.”

Vi sucks at being low-key when she’s plotting a surprise for you. She’ll come back from shopping with a giant bag, shove it behind her back, and loudly declare, “You didn’t see anything! Nope, definitely not a gift for you in here!”

If you work out together, Vi’s that girlfriend who slaps your back and yells, “ONE MORE REP, BABE!” like she’s training you for the Zaunite Olympics. But the second you spot her doing squats, she’s flexing and asking if you’re checking her out.

She has zero chill when someone flirts with you. She’ll immediately put on her gauntlets (if she has them nearby) or crack her knuckles and stare the poor soul down while saying, “What part of ‘taken’ did you miss, buddy?”

Vi has horrendous taste in movies and insists on watching the cheesiest action flicks with you. She’ll quote every single bad one-liner like it’s gospel and randomly yell, “EXPLOSIONS!” during quiet scenes.

Vi is the queen of spontaneous dumb ideas. “Babe, let’s wrestle.” “Babe, I think we should dye your hair pink.” “Babe, dare me to jump over that fence.” (Spoiler: she’ll do it whether or not you dare her.)

Vi texts like she’s trying to solve a riddle, constantly sending random emojis that make no sense. “🏴‍☠️🥊🔥🦖” somehow translates to, “I’m at the gym, love you, want pizza later?”

Vi snores. Loudly. And if you try to wake her up, she’ll grumble something like, “Shut up, babe. I’m fighting shimmer thugs in my dream.” She also steals all the blankets and leaves you clinging to the corner of the bed like it’s a survival raft.

If she gets the tiniest injury, she’ll act like she’s on her deathbed. “Babe, I think my pinky’s broken. You might need to kiss it better. No, wait, kiss my whole hand. Actually, better make it both hands—just in case.” (Only for you though.)

Vi loves hitting you with the dumbest pickup lines imaginable. “Are you shimmer? ‘Cause you’ve got me addicted, babe.” She’ll then smirk like she’s the smoothest person alive.

————————————————————————____________________________________________

You sat at a table in the corner of The Last Drop, sipping on your drink while Vi sulked dramatically next to you. She had her chin propped on her hand, eyes darting to a group across the room. You followed her gaze to a couple of young women laughing and glancing in your direction.

“Vi, they’re not even looking at me anymore,” you whispered, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, they were looking, alright,” Vi grumbled, narrowing her eyes. “I saw it. That one in the green? She was trying to undress you with her eyes. And not even subtly.”

You rolled your eyes. “They were probably just curious about your big, scary gauntlets. Or the fact that you stomped in here like you own the place.”

“I do own the place when I’m with you,” she said, dead serious. Then she grabbed your hand and laced her fingers through yours. “Look. If anyone tries anything, I’ll break their noses. Just blink twice if I need to go over there.”

“Vi,” you said, squeezing her hand, “no one’s coming over here. And if they do, I can handle myself.”

She glanced at you, clearly skeptical. “Babe, I love you, but you once tripped over your own feet walking to the kitchen.”

You burst out laughing, making her smirk.

“Oh, you think I’m funny?” she teased, leaning closer until her face was inches from yours. “What’s funny is the fact that you can’t stop thinking about me.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, leaning back with a grin. “You’re so cocky. What would you do if I wasn’t thinking about you?”

Vi’s expression turned mock-serious. “I’d probably throw myself into the Hexgate,” she deadpanned. “Start a new life on the other side of the world.”

You snorted. “And then what? Punch your way back to zaun?”

“Damn right,” she said, sitting up straight and puffing out her chest. “No one gets to steal my girl’s attention. Not even a Hexgate.”

Despite her ridiculous antics, her thumb gently traced circles over your hand, grounding you in the little moment you shared. You leaned into her side, your laughter dying into a soft smile.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured.

“And you’re stuck with me,” she shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

Yeah, you were stuck with her. But with Vi, life was never boring—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#arcane #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #violet arcane #vi headcanons #vi imagines #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane drabbles #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon

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nadianova · 2 days ago

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nadia nova patch notes new year style

i dont like it when people i dont personally know refer to me as sister. the reason im posting this is cause previoulsy a was asked and i said sure whatevr do what you want. but now ive been reminded i dont want to encourage people to be overly familiar and parasocial with me since its already going to be happening anyway and has just been happening more and more over time

this thinf also counts for being horny at me. a while ago i was asking for and having fun receiving lots of horny asks and it was fun because i have kink autism but i repeatedly got asks directly targeted at me instead of opinions of the kinks themselves and i stopped answering and started just feeling annoyed. like its weird. im not here to jerk off with strangers im here to make things that just happen to be something to jerk off to. im not the target to be horny at, the target is my art

also quit it with the playful rudeness. like not just to me but in general. i dont want people who like my games saying mean things to me . like its different to send some blatant anon bully bit shitpost vs saying something like fuck you the art you made me cry i hate you

i dont want to disable my dms,turn off asks and itch io comments etc cause therye fun most of the time but its been happening more and more and i dont like it

it gets grating when there is one of me saying things at nobody specific in particular and in return its hundreds of you saying it to me. like surely nobody wants to be that person whos message im showing to my gf and being like i wish people didnt do this

like i know its insane to expect 'the internet' to behave differently but thats not what im after. this request is aimed at people who are cool and chill and empathetic and just forget or dont realize what my side is and would gladly do something differetly after having it pointed out

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creamecafe · 1 day ago

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Love you the same and to the moon and back | Hyun Ju

Summary: After Hyun Ju came out as woman, it seemed like hope was lost as she lost everything. The military, her family and her friends. When dating you, she’s afraid she’ll lose you too. Or will she?

Pairing: Hyun Ju x GF!Reader

Warnings: angst, fear of coming out, fluff

Word Count:

Author's Note: This was requested by countrybarbiegalss from my book titled “Squid Game Imagines” on Wattpad. If you’d like, please check it out I’d really appreciate it. Don’t forget to vote, comment on what you think and share!

Feedback is always appreciated!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Hyun Ju could have not expected her life to take a turn like this. Discovering she’s transgender was a question she was able to solve. But the problem was what it came with after.

Shortly not long after she came out, she was kicked out of the military, struggled to find a job for at least almost two months. A lot of her family members cut her off and she lost friends she knew for years.

It seemed like everything was lost, until she met you. You were in the light in her eyes she needed. She met you while she was running late for work and you were jogging and accidentally bumped into her.

She remembers it all well the moment she met you, what she and you were wearing. You were so beautiful and hope was found again.

Hyun Ju hoped to see you again when she came to work and she did. Days turned into weeks and eventually a month. She really wanted to ask you out but was terrified of the relationship not lasting long as she was hiding herself, her true identity.

But something told her to ask you out. So the morning that she got ready for work, she told herself, she’s going to ask you out when yiu see her. As usual, she saw yiu again. She put a hand up as if she was going to raise a hand but it was to capture your attention.

You stopped running, took out your phone to pause your music and took out a earbud from one of your ears.

“Hey, how are you?” Hyun Ju asked

“Good and you?” You replied breathing heavily from the running.

“I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Yes, what it is”

Hyun Ju took a pause and took a deep breath

“We’re always seeing each other when I’m going to work and you’re running. I just think you’re really pretty and I wanted to know if you would like to maybe get a coffee together or go out sometime?”

After what Hyun Ju said to you, you had to think of what she was saying to you. You also found him (because at the time you didn’t know that she identified as a she even in that moment)

Hyun Ju took your silence as a possible rejection. It wasn’t until you replied

“Sure, I would love to” You nodded

“Really?” Making sure of what Hyun Ju was hearing right now.

“Yeah why not?”

Hyun Ju couldn’t believe it. Was her life finally turning around for the better? Was this a sign?

“What time and day works for you?” You asked

“I get out at work around 6:30. 6, if my boss is merciful.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Sounds great”

Hyun Ju nodded and smiled to herself. This was really happening. She asked out a girl.

“See you around then” You said about to go back to your daily running

“See you” Hyun Ju exclaimed as she was going to head to her work. She realized one thing. She didn’t know your name and you didn’t know hers

“Wait!” She turned around to face you hoping you didn’t run off already. Luckily, you just about to put your second earbud in when she called out. You turned around.

“I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Y/N.” You smiled and Hyun Ju didn’t forget that

“Hyun Ju” She said

“That’s a pretty name. I hope you don’t leave me hanging tomorrow Hyun Ju.”

“I won’t.” She shook her head and laughed.

You chuckled too as you ran off, looked back and waved to him her. She waved back to you as she looked at the time and realized she’s running late. “Crap!” She ran off to her work.

A few hours passed and she was done with her job. She took the subway home and was tired. Your smile wouldn’t leave her mind. When she got back to her apartment, she prepared something to eat, watched TV and went to sleep. A few more hours and she’ll be going out with you, she thought to herself.

The next morning and she was more than ready to get out of bed to see your face again. Everything she was doing in her daily routine was fast paced as she was so excited. She always double checking herself, to see if her hair was fine in every reflection she could see. While she was fixing her hair while walking looking in a shop glass, she bumped into someone. She looked at who she bumped into, it was you again. Time felt like it stopped. She was going to apologize but you did first.

“We, well I gotta stop bumping into you. I gotta be more careful when running.” Yiu chuckled putting a hand to your mouth

“It’s alright,” Hyun Ju nodded smiling.

“Tonight’s still on?” You asked playfully

“What? Oh yes, it is.”

“Great!”

“Here,” Hyun Ju took a notebook and pen out of her bag and wrote down her number to give to you. “You can text or call me if anything comes up”

You took the paper and looked at what she wrote.

"Ok will do. I'll let you get back to you going to work."

"And I'll let you get back to running."

Both of you nodded and parted ways. A few hours have passed and Hyun Ju finished her shift. She rushed home to get ready for her first date with you.

It was going to be at a small restaurant, nothing fancy. When she saw you at and what you wore, it felt like her heart was going to fall out her chest.

The date has gone well and you started seeing each other after work more often. Both of you not long after started dating each other.

This was the happiest Hyun Ju been in a long time. Being with someone, finding peace and security. But while dating you, still being happy, there was something eating at her.

Her wanting to come out to you, telling you she's transgender. Over the course, you have been dating her, you notice his her hair would get longer and would paint her nails.

You seen other guys done the same as it was a trend mostly among Gen Z, so you thought nothing of it.

Every opportunity Hyun Ju had to tell you, she would shut it down quickly as she was afraid of losing you. She hated lying to you. It wasn't right, but she was afraid of your reaction of her telling you.

She believed that you would cry and yell at her, never wanting to see her face again. Tonight after work was the night she was going to tell you.

When she came home to your shared apartment, you came running to you excited to see you, her boyfriend girlfriend again.

"Hey babe, how are you doing? How was work" You said smiling

"Good thank you. Work was good. How are you?"

"I'm good thanks, just reading a book. I made dinner for both of us. I waited for you to eat togther."

Your kindness. That was the thing Hyun Ju was going to miss when she tells you the truth tonight.

"I need to tell you something, Y/N."

"Yes, what is it?" You asked without looking up from your book.

"I don't know how to say this. And when I do, you might not wanna be with me anymore."

You put your book down at what she meant by this.

"What do you mean?

"I have discovered something about myself. And I'm trans. Transgender."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Yes I am. I won't be known as your boyfriend anymore. I probably won't even be yours anymore after I have said this."

Putting your book down, you got up and went up to him her.

"Hyun Ju-"

"Listen," Hyun Ju's voice starts breaking up as she looks down. "If you want to break up with me, that's fine. But this is who I am."

"I loved you as the man you weren't meant to be. And who doesn't say I won't love you as the woman you're going to be?"

"You're still going to be with me? People will look at us and I don't wanna damage your reputation."

"So what? Screw those who are going to judge, that's not make me change my mind or make me love you any less."

Hyun Ju tried to hold it in but she was crying. You held her close and sat down on the couch. Her sobs broke your heart. You probably didn't realize how hard this must have been on her, keeping this a secret from you.

"Do you want to go to the bed and just lay down?" You asked softly

"Yes, yes" She took her hands from her face and nodded.

You helped Hyun Ju up and went to your shared room. The room was dark as you turned on a lightly dimmed lamp.

You sat down on the bed first and waited for Hyun Ju to come. She hesitated a bit, but eventually sat down next to you. She wrapped her arms around you. Both of you went further into the bed as you both laid down.

Her broad arms were firm but soft on you as she laid her head on your chest. Trying to match her breathing to your heartbeat. You still felt her tears fall on your tank top and some on your arm.

"It's ok, it's ok. I got you" You whispered kissing her forehead.

Hyun Ju was shaking under you. This wasn't the reaction she wasn't expecting. She was sure you were going to break up with her. This all had to be a dream, like too good to be true.

But she felt safe here. Like her past and everything else didn't exist. It didn't matter.

"I don't deserve you" Hyun Ju said so faintly as shell break.

"Don't say that. Whoever made you feel like you weren't deserving of love just because of the way you identify, don't deserve you. Not the other way around."

After what you said, Hyun Ju just wanted to continue laying and not say another word. You kept kissing. Her forehead, her neck, slow and soft with your lips.

"I love you Hyun Ju. I'll always love you the same and to the moon and back."

Hyun Ju now knows it was indeed a sign you were the one for her. She gets up a bit to face and kiss you on the lips sweetly and gently.

A tear dropped down and you tasted her salty drops. You pulled back and just smiled.

"I love you too Y/N."

"We can take a nap and eat dinner later. Or we don't have to, tomorrow's the weekend. We can stay in, lay like this all you want."

Throughout the night, you guys talked nonsense until you both fell asleep holding each other. This was all Hyun Ju wanted and needed.

Safe and sound in your arms. She was ready to become a new person. But in your eyes, she was the still same.

She was still yours, and you were hers.

Taglist:

@itsnznn, @soultyun, @hobinistaworld, @happyfrog7681, @Tiuhiatus, @star2008, @magicalconnoisseurcoffee, @fyraevya, @ninahorikoshifr, @ouwioworuuu, @cloudysxkura, @iidontwannadiealone, @idontreallyexistyet, @gigglingkickingmyfeet, @hollxe1, @uuhhtt, @bludzk1llzyuzu, @maymustdie, @bahoglobot, @bread-crum206, @lovesickxmina, @galactict3a, @livelaughlovekuni, @petrrraaa, @sackgirl666, @grimminiecricket

#creamecafe #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game 2 #squid game #hyun ju #cho hyunju #transgender #transfem #trans #wlw post #wlw #x fem!reader #x f!reader

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flowersforthemachines · 2 days ago

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Some facts about Taash (and also the Lords of Fortune, the Qunari, Dragons and other related things) gathered from the banters

Featuring Shathaan's stories about the Crows!

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Taash

General:

Taash gets grumpy if they stay inside for too long

Taash may polish their treasure hoard or clean the dishes (even somebody else's) to get out of their head

When Taash is feeling sad, they ask somebody else about how they are doing, so they can focus on somebody else instead of themselves

Taash doesn’t like talking about their feelings because it makes them sad (Lucanis can relate)

Taash doesn't read books before bed because they have a tendency to stay up past their bedtime to finish the exciting parts

Taash seems to care quite a lot about fibre and digestive health (they are so real for that). For example, they enjoy the smell of coffee but don’t drink it because it’s bad for their guts

Taash drinks alcohol

Taash once requested Bellara/Lucanis to cook them a demon (the suggestion was disregarded)

Taash liked Lucanis’s deep-fried peppers

Taash liked Bellara’s stir-fry

(If Rook is in romance with Taash) A spirit of devotion appears next to Taash after they enter a relationship

Taash doesn’t want to look for more dragonfire tablets because “they are just more orders”, and they already have enough

Taash doesn’t kill in cold blood and needs to get angry in order to kill someone

Taash has good taste in gemstones, knowing which colours match which (based on the banters where they recommend gemstones for Emmrich’s lich helmet). They say it’s a Lord of Fortune thing, they have to know how to make gems look good

Taash isn’t afraid of the Fade, because the spirits there mind their own business and don’t try to possess anyone (or anything)

Taash thinks that even if the Nevarrans almost brought their dragons to extinction, they will still come back eventually

Taash is extremely excited to hear that Morrigan can (potentially) turn into a dragon and wants to ask her about it next time they meet

Taash doesn’t mind finding no loot when hunting dragons because as long as you survived an encounter with a dragon, you have a new story to tell

Taash doesn't think of dragons as monsters since they are a natural part of the world and have been around longer than anyone else

On fire-breathing:

Taash started breathing fire when they were a toddler

Taash needs to eat greens after breathing fire, or they get headaches

According to healers, fire breathing hurts Taash’s lungs

Taash accidentally set their first female partner’s hair on fire during their first sex

Taash once tried to cook with their dragon breath and accidentally melted a pot and set the kitchen on fire

On Taash’s sense of smell:

Taash got their heightened sense of smell after they got sick and couldn't breathe through the nose for a couple of months. After they recovered they could suddenly smell everything

Tassh can smell when someone is ovulating. They can also smell who had been in the room before them, and who is hungover

Taash could also tell Neve got together with Rook or Lucanis from the smell even before anybody told them

To Taash, Minrathous smells rainy and ‘like rich people hurting poor people’

Early life and the relationship with Shathann:

Taash learnt to swim before they learnt to walk

Shathann sometimes wouldn't let Taash play/go swimming until they finished their studies (like being able to tell the difference between some pottery shards)

Shathann gifted Taash axes during one of the gift-giving holidays when they were younger. They were simple kindling choppers, but Shathann helped decorate them to make them look like Qunari weapons. During a conversation with Bellara, Taash realises that may be the reason they are still using axes to this day

Axes are also good at lodging between dragon scales and allows them to climb up

Taash grew up poor, though they didn’t realise it because Shathann always made sure they had enough food, even at her expense (like pretending she didn’t want to eat because “Rivaini food is too rich for her”)

Taash spent the money they made from their first job as Lord of Fortune on buying Shathaan a dress. Shathann didn’t appreciate it, instead urging Taash to buy themselves boots or some other useful things

Shathann hated apples because their skin would get stuck in her teeth (“Evataash, that fruit is stupid!”)

If Taash chooses to pursue Rivaini culture and wear Shathann’s horn as jewellery, they have a blacksmith do runes in the old Qunari language along the edges and get a Seer to bless it

Shathann stopped telling stories about the Crows after Taash once climbed on the roof to play as a Crow

The things Shathann taught Taash about the Crows:

Antivan Crows make themselves invisible to dragons by imitating the dragon's shadow

Antivan Crows coat the beaks of actual crows with poison so that the crows can kill people by pecking

Antivan Crows can slow down their breathing until they become invisible

Antivan Crows come through houses at night and kill children who aren’t in bed

Antivan Crows can do a special move that stops their enemy's heart

Antivan Crows can strangle a Qunari with their own dar-saam (but only if it’s tied incorrectly)

Relationships with companions:

Bellara gives Taash advice on cooking dinner for their mother

Davrin teaches Taash to use buckets filled with water and sand for lifting

Taash has never flown a kite before and asks Harding to teach them

Harding's mother sends Taash a letter with homemade candies after Shathann’s death, calling it “a hug from afar” (Taash appreciated the gesture and liked the candy)

(If Rook is in romance with Taash) Taash asks Lucanis about what Rook likes to eat, and Lucanis offers to teach them how to make coffee/tea/chiocolata calda

Taash isn’t scared of Spite, and even convinces (or more like intimidates) him not to talk about how other people smell without their permission

Lucanis agrees to teach Taash how to kill targets with flair (with varying degrees of success when it comes to cool one-liners) and then plans to ask Teia to make a Crow cape just for them (Taash is very excited about it, as they love crow capes)

Taash insists Neve should get some trophy from Aelia (a ring, or an amulet with her name) to show everyone she beat her, and doesn’t understand why Neve isn’t interested in something like that

Taash offers their blood to Neve for blood magic purposes (Neve doesn’t take up the offer)

Taash thinks Neve’s ‘dresses’ are pretty

Taash thinks nobody can go toe-to-toe in magic with Neve

Taash offers to hook Neve up with their jeweller to get her a discount (in case she wants a new leg) because “Neve deserves nice things”

Lords of Fortune:

Lords of Fortune have a drunk game where they throw a goblet made from fool’s gold into the water for others to find. Whoever finds it gets free drinks for the rest of the night. The game has only one rule: no punching in the junk

There is also another drunk game where drunk Lords jump off a giant cliff. The only rule is not to hit the water face-first

Even if those are “drunk games”, you can participate in them sober, as long as you are willing to be as stupid as the drunk people

The Lords of Fortune pick new jobs by Isabela throwing daggers at a map or racing nugs (the winner picks the job - could be its owner, or the nug itself)

The lords used to blindfold Mateo (the faction merchant) and spin him around in circles until he tripped on something like a map. They stopped doing that because a Seer told them to quit (the whole thing gave Mateo headaches)

After Shathann is gone, Taash is in charge of appraising Qunari artifacts for the Lords until they find a better expert

The Lords of Fortune work with a Dalish clan keeper Shivanas (Taash calls them ‘Shiv’) who appraises artefacts for them (tells them what’s okay to sell and not to sell etc.)

After losing his hand, a Lord named Bernst got a lock-pick hand prosthetic decorated with gems

About Dragons:

Different breeds of dragons can mate and produce offspring. That’s how ice- and lightning-breathing dragons came about

The muscles of dragon wings’ are vulnerable behind. Another weakness is the underbelly

Fighting Dragons is all about making them come to you, either by having them see you as a threat (so they come down to assert dominance) or prey (so they come down to eat you)

There is a dragon called Wildervale Spitter, which can breathe fire or poison gas. The “fire breath” is actually just poison that burns when the dragon breathes. Most dragons always ignite their breath. The Spitter's special for being able to choose whether to light it up.

Dragons have an extra eyelid that they shut while breathing fire in order to protect their eyes

About Qunari etc.:

Eb-ketarra means something like “growing memories.” When you graft someone’s horn onto yours, you also add their strength to yourself

Qunari food uses a lot of oil for frying

Qunari have a much better sense of smell than humans

Qunari can bury their dead with large jars inlaid with a flame pattern. It’s called ‘issalatar’ and is empty inside, representing that the deceased’s body is also empty now that their spirit is gone

The Rivaini armada can hold its own against the Antaam fleet, but only in good weather. They can’t match the Antaam in firepower, but they can outsail them

Isabela is apparently still a captain of the Siren’s Call

#probably a bit late in saying this but if you are interested in where a specific piece of information is coming from feel free to ask #I more or less remember where all facts in all posts came from #when I started taking these notes I never would have thought Taash's would end up the longest #that's how you know that personal bias wasn't involved because if it was we would have a 3k-word Bellara post on our hands but here we are #well taash is my second favourite. *maybe* the biases were involved #also probably has something to do with the fact I started taking more and more notes as time went on #and I listened to Taash's banters last #well I am planning to make revisions to the posts when I play the game again (very soon TM) so maybe the others will catch up #and thank you so much to everyone who reblogged and said something nice in the tags every single one of them means the world to me <3 #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #taash #lace harding #neve gallus #meta #references #datv banter #flowers.txt #Shathann #lords of fortune #datv banters

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supper-ansuta-broth · 12 hours ago

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Hey guys!

As of the most recent Akatsuki event, fans of Ensemble Stars! across the globe have begun voicing their anger with the distasteful, ignorant, and outright bigoted nature of the franchise's story as a whole (most prominently (but not exclusively) its racist structure, undertones, plot points, and rhetoric). I have always been of the opinion that Happy Elements K.K. as a company is not worthy of respect, and wholly do not care about fans' and users' input, feelings, concerns, and criticisms. Time and time again, H.E. have not only put their own bottom line first, but have made it their only concern.

Needless to say, I am not only disappointed but infuriated with this company. While I am an optimist who hopes to see the best come from any situation, this is not one of the cases where this would be a realistic outlook. Because of this, posts on here will likely be infrequent, as I don't want anyone to believe that even for a moment I think their decisions are excusable.

That being said, while I encourage everyone to do their part in reminding H.E. over and over how much harm they've caused and the colossal damage they've done to their IP, I must also remind everyone that most of a gacha's game's profits come from the small percentage of its highest paying players (i.e. "whales"), and that H.E. has a long history of not listening to its playerbase's concerns and criticisms, even going as far as to silence them and block them for speaking up. They do not care what you think. They care about money, first foremost and only. Be active and speak up, don't support their shitty business practices, but don't run yourselves into the ground in the process of doing so, because at the end of the day they will continue trucking along-- they are too big to fail.

I encourage everyone to direct their focus towards fan creators, and send them as much of your kindness and love as possible. Support the people who create things due to passion and love, not just for money. Enstars has been lacking passionate stories for a long time anyway, with only a handful every now and again. Everyone who creates anything, no matter their skill level, deserves compassion and support. And if you're someone who wants to create something but fears mediocrity, create it anyway. Every great artist was consistently mediocre until they grew enough in their skill to start producing some things they like.

Additionally, this is in no way the fault of the seiyuu, the employees of H.E. who are not in charge of making decisions for the story, or anyone else who isn't directly involved with the meat of what makes Enstars, Enstars. These people are not to blame. Direct your ire towards the writers, the executives, and anyone else who allows these decisions to pass.

That's all I have to say for now. If you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask. I can't guarantee I'll get around to everything in a timely manner, but I assure you I will answer anything I can. Thank you for reading.

#not fun fact #ensemble stars #enstars #あんさんぶるスターズ #あんスタ

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measuredingold · 3 days ago

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my soul is useless without you

author's note: part two to i'd walk through hell for you is finally here ! i'm not sure if i want to do a third part, but we’ll see lol but i'm currently working on something for folio 👀 as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ! also, if yall have any requests, send them my way :) i'm in the mood to write but inspiration is running thin lol

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

word count: 3.5k

cross posted on ao3 / part one

cw/tw: angst, hurt/comfort, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings But A Good Friend, reader is going through it, anxiety, hints/mentions of depression, noah is just a good guy and cares about reader a lot ( more than he realizes ), friends to lovers pining lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It's when Jolly asks Noah in-between takes if he'd heard from you recently that the anxiety finally settles in.

Because he doesn't know the last time he's heard from you. Which isn't normal.

He's a bad texter, notorious for looking at messages and making a note to reply to them later or replying in his mind, but he always makes sure to reply to you whenever the two of you aren't together. It's just always been a thing, to always have some form of communication with you when he wasn't over at yours or if you weren't at his, so it panics him when he can't remember the last time he'd spoken to you.

He goes through your messages and finds that it wasn't him this time who didn't respond, but instead it was you. Relief washes over him briefly, the guilt of forgetting to respond to his best friend vanishing, but then that anxiety comes back full force.

You didn't respond.

You always responded.

He sends off a quick message to you, apologizing for being in studio mode and not leaving the house and asks if you're alright. He waits. They go through another take, he somehow doesn't fuck it up even though his mind isn't all the way there. You still haven't responded by the fifth take and that's when he starts to feel sick, stomach twisting with the worry of what could be wrong.

He tries to think back to if you've ever gone this long without speaking and he can't think of a time when that has happened.

"Earth to Noah." Jolly's voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

"Oh. Uh, sorry."

"All good, man." His bandmate eyes him for a second before his eyes flicker towards his phone. "She respond?"

"Um. No." His brows furrowed as he stared at his phone, the black screen mocking him. "Kind of worried."

"Yeah... I am, too." Jolly murmurs. He clicks around on the screen a few times before twisting his chair around to fully face Noah, arms crossing over his chest. "You should go over there. Check and make sure she's alright."

Noah raises a brow at him. "We're in the middle of recording?"

"And?" Jolly shrugs, waving him off. "We got a lot done today, we can wrap it up. Something's obviously wrong and she might need you. That's more important than some song."

He blinks at his friend, letting his words settle in. Jolly's right, he thinks. You are more important than whatever song they're working on. That confirmation makes him feel funny, something tightening beneath his chest but he ignores it, nodding slowly.

"Okay. You wanna come?"

Jolly shakes his head. "Nah. The both of us might be overwhelming. If you do need me then call, if not..." He shrugs again before lifting himself up out of his chair, groaning softly to himself, "...might be best for just you to go. She'd probably feel better if it's just you, anyways. You know how she is."

Noah isn't quite sure what he means, but nods along anyways. He checks his phone again and still no text, but he notices that you read the message. He should feel relieved at the sign of life but it only makes his anxiety worse, stomach twisting violently.

"Okay. I'll text you when I get there."

He's practically running out of the studio after that, the only thing on his mind was you. He needed to make sure you were okay. Deep down he knew that if this was him, you would've already been here, and he feels guilty all over again. He should've paid more attention, shouldn't have let this slip his mind so easily. He thinks back to your last messages together and how you were talking about your work day, overwhelmed and quite frankly, upset about it all. He should've paid closer attention.

He makes it to yours in record time, legs moving him to the door before he can even think about it. He sends up a quiet prayer to the universe that you had given him an extra key months ago and uses it to unlock the door, slowly pushing it open.

He calls out your name, but no answer.

His eyes sweep over your apartment as he enters, scanning the open space. Your kitchen looked untouched, minus the few dirty dishes that were in your sink. A few boxes of Chinese take-out and some bottles of water. He feels almost relieved. You'd been eating and as far as he can tell you'd been keeping yourself somewhat hydrated, so that was a plus. He knows how bad you can be when you get into this headspace - brain fog, forgetting to do basic things like eating and drinking water. But this... this is a step in the right direction.

His eyes move towards the living room and it's just about the same. A pile of blankets lay together at one end of the couch, pillows scattered along the length of the cushions. You'd been there quite a bit, he can tell, but other than that nothing was too bad.

Noah feels like he can breathe for just a second, eyes going straight to the cracked open door to your bedroom. He hears the faint hum of your television and hears the muffled voice of your favorite characters in your favorite comfort show. His chest tightens. You only ever watch it when things get bad inside your head, when things start to become too overwhelming and you need to cling onto something that you know. Something that won't throw any surprises at you and make things worse.

He makes his way towards your room, ready to call out your name again as he pushes open your door but stops halfway. You're curled up in your bed, covered in a pile of blankets. He steps closer to get a better look at you and he doesn't think he's ever seen you look so peaceful. Lashes against the tops of your cheeks, lips parted. The crease between your brows is relaxed, which never happens.

Noah takes a deep breath.

You're alright. He can see that you're safe and sound, at least for now, and that's enough for him. He shuts your door behind him and makes his way back into the main room, taking his shoes off by the door. He takes another deep breath to center himself as he looks around your space, hand finding its way to his hair.

He decides he'll clean up your kitchen and living room. It isn't too bad, and it won't take him too long. He also just... doesn't want to leave yet. He'll wait until you wake up. Make you talk to him, ask what’s up. Probably make you eat something. Then he'll head home.

Sounds like a good plan to him.

Even though your door is shut he still tries to be quiet, making sure to carefully wash and put away your dishes without making too much of a fuss. After the dishes, he throws away all the take-out boxes and water bottles. He even makes a note to take the trash out for you when he's all done, because he knows you would've done it for him.

The constant reminder of you and knowing that you'd do something like this for him, and have, is the motivation he needs to continue. It makes him feel warm all over and he thinks how lucky he is to have someone like you as his best friend.

And he definitely ignores the bitter taste in his mouth at the word best friend.

It's maybe an hour after he's finished, curled up on your couch that now has its pillows in place, and the pile of blankets are neatly folded and put away, that you finally emerge from your room. You rub the sleep out of your eyes, not noticing him on the couch at first, but when you do you make a noise of surprise that has Noah laughing.

"Hey."

He notices the slight flush of your cheeks but ignores it. "Hi?"

"I uh," He scratches the back of his neck, sending you a sheepish smile. "Hadn't talked to you in a few days. Got worried. So did Jolly. Told me to come over. Check on you. You were sleeping so I just," He throws his arms around, gesturing to the space around him, "cleaned up a little? Figured you would appreciate a clean house when you woke up so..."

He's talking too much, he knows it, but he can't seem to stop the word vomit from coming out. Noah knows you wouldn't mind, but he was nervous, especially because all you do is stare at him without saying a word. Stare and stare and stare until you sniff, brows furrowing.

"...Thanks."

You're unusually quiet and it makes his stomach turn again. You sniff again and Noah swears you look like you're on the verge of tears, and he sits up on the couch. He watches you closely as you wring your hands together in front of you, mouth opening and closing as if you want to say something. You don't, and Noah catches the exact moment when your bottom lip trembles, and he's moving before he can even think about it.

"Hey. It's okay. You’re okay."

He tries to keep his voice soft and free of any panic, but his heart is beating so rapidly against his chest he swears you can hear it. You sniff again, head shaking as your lip continues to tremble and he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls you into his arms and presses you into his chest. You don't move for a second, but eventually your arms circle around his waist. You squeeze, tight, but he doesn't mind. He just squeezes you back.

Your body begins to shake as the cries start to rack through you, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Noah swallows down the lump that was beginning to form, cheek resting on the top of your head. He's always hated when you cry. He himself wasn’t one for much display of emotions, but when it came to the people he cared about, he hated seeing them anything but happy.

Especially you.

He's seen you cry a few times. Well, more than a few times. Sometimes it was over nothing, and then sometimes it was over an incredibly cute dog you'd seen scrolling on Twitter. He didn't mind those, but when it was over something serious, he fucking hated that. He never wanted you to be anything but happy, and whenever you weren’t, it’s like a piece of him breaks.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers into your hair, trying to pull you even closer to him.

“Everything.” You eventually mumble against his chest, sucking in a deep breath as you try to control your tears. “Fucking everything is wrong.”

He fucking hates the way that answer makes him feel. His chest feels like it's on fire, and he swears his heart just fucking broke at how sad you sounded, voice muffled by his shirt. He squeezes you to his chest again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He wants you to talk about it, to tell him what's wrong so he can make it better. Noah knows it'll probably be damn near impossible to even do that, but god, he'd try absolutely anything to make your tears stop. You take a long moment to respond, trying to control your breathing, before you eventually shake your head against his chest.

"Not right now."

"Okay.” He mumbles, raising a hand to smooth down your hair. “That's okay, we don't have to."

"Thank you."

You stay like that for a moment, in the middle of your living room. Noah doesn't plan on letting go any time soon, thinking for a split second that he wished he could keep you in his arms forever. If you were there, he'd always know if you were okay. The thought fades before he could think too hard about it when you finally pull away from him, and Noah catches sight of your slight red and blotchy face. He frowns.

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever seen you so sad. So defeated. Whatever was going on really pained you, and he wishes you'd just tell him so he can fix it. Another passing, fleeting thought, but he thinks he'd do just about anything right now to see you smile again.

"Have you eaten?" He breaks the silence between the two of you, not waiting to hear whatever you were planning on saying.

You blink up at him. "Um... no. Not since this morning. Had some fruit and coffee."

"I figured." He guides you towards the couch, practically pushing you onto it. You snort when he grabs a throw blanket and dumps it onto you. "Pick something to watch."

It's not a question, but more of a command, and Noah ignores the way his chest flutters at the small smile you give him. He turned away from you, pushing whatever feeling was brewing inside of him so far down and got his brain to focus. Food. You need food. To be honest, so does he. He’d been so worried about you for the last few hours that he didn’t even think of getting something to eat.

It takes him a few minutes of rummaging around your kitchen to settle on making something easy - instant ramen. He’s surprised you hadn't eaten it all in the week you’ve been off-grid, but thankful nonetheless. Noah's way too impatient to wait any longer to actually cook something, especially knowing you hadn't eaten anything since this morning. Every so often he looked over his shoulder to watch you, wishing you'd say something, but would find you either staring blankly at the television or your phone.

A bitter taste settles in the back of his throat every time he turns back around to the stove. He hated this, and he fucking hated that he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

He brings your bowl to you once he's finished, already making a mental note to clean up the mess he had made while cooking. You blink up at him and reach for it, giving him a quiet, "Thank you."

Noah doesn't verbally say anything, just hums out a response as he ventures back into the kitchen to grab you something to drink. When he comes back he notices you had slowly begun to eat, and he feels his shoulders finally relax. Just knowing you ate something eases him, the tension in his body leaving him completely. You're already reaching out for the glass of water in his hand that he happily hands off to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"Need anything else?"

You shake your head, peering up at him. "No. Just want you to come sit with me."

That same fluttery feeling beneath his chest returns and he wishes he could ignore it again, but it doesn't go away. No, it stays perched underneath his chest, as if it's decided that it's making a home there and never leaving. He doesn't say anything, just nods at your request before grabbing his own bowl and a Pepsi you had in the fridge before making his way back to you.

You wait until he's settled on the couch to scoot closer to him, legs pressed flushed together. You're already halfway through your ramen and for a split second he forgets that weird feeling in his chest, instead focusing on the intense pride filling him. He was able to get you to eat, he was able to help out in some way. Knowing you were alright for the most part and it was from his doing made him feel good.

The both of you eat in silence as whatever show you decided to put on plays in the background. He’s just now realized it was The Office, and he huffs out a small laugh at something Michael Scott said. Another one of your comfort shows, something easy.

It isn't until you both are finished with your food and Noah's back in the kitchen cleaning up that you finally speak. He doesn't hear you come up behind him, focused on washing the dishes and making sure everything's clean and good to go, so he can't help but jump when he feels your arms slip around his waist and squeeze.

"Shit." He swears, followed by a breathy chuckle. "You scared me."

You don't say anything to that, just squeeze him harder and he feels you press your face against his back. Then ever so softly, he picks up the faintest, "Thank you," muffled against his back. His face flushes, eyes casting down to the soapy water his hands were currently submerged in. He's glad you can't see the blush on his cheeks, and he fucking hopes you can't hear the way his heart is pounding beneath his chest. Can probably feel it, though, and that makes his face burn even more.

"For what?" He manages to mumble out, resuming his efforts. Your arms squeeze his waist again.

"For being here." You sound so small. "You don't have to be, but you are, and I can't thank you enough for that."

"You'd do it for me." His response comes easily, voice nonchalant because it's true. He knows you'd do the same for him, and the thought has his stomach flipping every which way. "And have done it for me. It's the least I can do."

You're silent after that but don't part from him, and Noah can't help the smile that spreads across his lips at the feeling of you rubbing your face against him. It makes him feel warm all over, and that damned fluttery feeling in his chest is back yet again. You stay like that until he's finished with the dishes, moving with him as he shuffles to the side to dry them off. You don't pick your head up even when he manages to turn in your arms, finally facing you.

Noah's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him and now you can rub your face against his chest. He laughs softly, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Still don't wanna talk about it?" He knows he's pressing but he can't help it, a part of him still needs to know what's wrong and how he can fix this for you.

You shake your head. "Not yet. Tomorrow, okay? I just... don't wanna think about it tonight."

"Okay." He thinks he can handle that.

"Thank you." You say again and finally lift your head up from his chest, blinking up at him. There's still a sadness there, roaming around behind your eyes, but not as prevalent as it was earlier. He’s at least done something right. "I'm really fucking lucky to have you, you know that, right?"

The way you're looking up at him is overwhelming, Noah's throat tightening at the softness surrounding your tired eyes. You smile at him and this time it reaches your gaze, not faked but real, and his heart slams against his chest. A thought passes his mind again, something he hasn't thought of in years, and he pushes it back with a hard swallow.

"You're just saying that because you didn't have to do the dishes."

You roll your eyes but that smile never drops from your lips, and Noah thinks he'd like to keep you smiling like that for the rest of his life.

"Shut up. I'm being serious." You're giggling now, eyes crinkling and he catches a glimpse of the real you for the first time in hours - probably days, weeks even.

"So am I." Noah yelps when you pinch his side, your laughter growing louder. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to be nice here, asshole. You can at least try, too."

He softens at that, eyes meeting yours. He's well aware his face is on fire right now, cheeks pink.

"You already know I'm lucky to have you. Didn't realize I had to say it."

Even if he doesn't say it often, he is very lucky. So incredibly lucky to have you in his life, for sticking by him and for understanding him. For always being patient with him. Jolly reminds him occasionally how lucky he is to have you, how all of them are lucky to have someone like you in their lives. He doesn't know what the fuck he or anyone did to be so deserving of you, but dammit, he's fucking thankful for it everyday.

You don't say anything, just continue to beam up at him and Noah can't seem to stop himself, tilting his head down to brush his lips against your forehead. He feels you press further into his chest, if it was even possible, and practically melt in his arms.

He wishes he could keep you here forever, tucked away in his arms. He thinks there isn't much he wouldn't do to keep you safe, to make sure you were okay, and that thought alone scares him. He'd never admit it, at least not out loud, and he tucks that thought away for another time. Or to possibly be never thought of again, he doesn't know. He doesn't really care.

No, all he cares about right now is that you're okay, at least for now, and that you're nestled against his chest like it's the only place you want to be.

And that's enough for him.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #mine

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the-ellia-west · 1 day ago

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WHO WANTS HELP WITH THEIR STORY???

Moots and Open tag!

I am providing my free services, Hop in my DMs or my ask box with your Plot, Worldbuilding, Character, or just concept Troubles!

I need practice for helping people with their stories and keeping several people's WIPs straight in my head if I'm going to be the leader of Storytelling Club next year!

I can provide advice, help brainstorming, what kinds of things I would personally like seeing, feedback on plot or scenes, critiques, or help you create something or flesh it out, like a character or a city

Just tell me what you want, I'll send some clarifying questions, and We can get right into it!

I am by no means an expert, but I love helping and I know a lot about Cliches, critiques, tropes, and dialogue! I am also very Excitable and Passionate about storytelling, so if I go off on a ramble, feel free to shut me down or ask me to stop and I will, no hard feelings at all!

That's all! I would also like to Schedule these, in case I have more than one, because I would LOVE to give each and every one of you who ask my full attention

To apply for this, Just... send me an ask or a DM, or comment or reblog this post asking about times, or telling me to DM or ask first!

AND YES, I HAVE THE FREE WILL, AND I CAN AND WILL REJECT HELPING WITH STORIES I AM UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONCEPT OF, I WILL MAKE MY BOUNDARIES CLEAR

Love you! Have a wonderful day! <33

@thewritingautisticat @yolbert @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @ambersky0319 @lunaeuphternal

@an-indecisive-nerd @homelessnerd @vesanal @thebookishkiwi @write-with-will

@hihopelessromantics @pastellbg @seastarblue @i-do-anything-but-write @darkandstormydolls

@supercimi @blargh-500 @sunflowerrosy @corinneglass @carb0n-m0n0xid3

@tiredpapergirl @whatwewrotepodcast @busybussinbee @urnumber1star

#creative writing #writing community

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akegome · 3 days ago

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I’m not sure when I will be returning or if I will be;

Long story short, the person who framed me in August came forward.

This whole ordeal caused me to receive death threats, allegations of (proven false now) abuse and harassment, and caused people to believe that I was someone who sought out the intention of causing drama/harm to others that I didn’t know.

I have had to defend myself against allegations for months, even after my mutuals and friends came out with evidence that proved my innocence. I will admit it was wrong of me to comment on my friend’s story publicly and I have since apologized to my friend for being such an idiot but, I don’t think it should’ve led to all of this occurring.

Now, realizing that I’ve also been stalked by someone for months now and being framed by someone has made me step back.

If you were in my position would you actually feel comfortable with being present where you are clearly going to be dragged into drama even when you’re actively avoiding it? And please don’t tell me “oh you posted those anons so you’re at fault for engaging with it” uhm— yeah, here’s the thing:

I got 5-10 anons from this guy without even posting anything. I was forcefully involved and dragged into drama with someone I have never met against my will.

I don’t know how to feel about any of this, but I did have a mental breakdown about this. Why? Because I was sent so much horrible messages and people told me such bad stuff about myself because they believed drama over the evidence that proved my innocence all over labels on my blog or something people said through the grapevine. It’s like, I don’t even think it’s worth it anymore trying to make sense of this. But, it’s absolutely hurt me in the long run.

This isn’t the post I wanted to make but it’s something that I want to share because I want to highlight the damage of drama blogs and what drama has done to the community:

I was a completely innocent party dragged into a drama with someone I didn’t even know. Drama blogs spread my name, my posts around without context, and it was all because some guy did a little trolling. This is why fact checking is important.

And while the drama blogs and “Cam” have all apologized, the damage is and has been done.

I left in 2021 because of false allegations written against an ex-partner of mine, and I returned thinking everything was better. But, it’s turns out for the most part I was wrong. People are out for venom even if you’re just trying to vibe and relax, much like I was.

For now, so long and goodnight.

If you would like to exchange Discords, please send me a DM or ASK because that’s likely where I will be heading for the time being.

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elysiaheaven2 · 3 days ago

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A poem to my childhood fort....(part 1) Ronin x G.n reader

Words:3000

Genre: Angst to fluff, Gift to @sincerelyyourslilly

(Reader is G.N)

Ronin x G.N Reader

All you ever wanted was to be a successful crime writer. Not the next best-seller, not a household name—just someone who could spin a story without that relentless, soul-crushing writer's block creeping in. Every time you opened a blank document, it stared back at you, mocking, empty. And every time, you closed it, frustration bubbling over.

Why was it so hard? You’ve written before. Sure, some of it was cringe fanfiction—okay, a lot of it was cringe fanfiction—but writing used to come so easily. Back then, the words practically bled onto the page. Now, they just... don’t.

You needed inspiration. Something visceral, raw, a spark that could ignite your creative inferno. It wouldn’t come from endless Google searches, that was for sure. Inspiration like that demanded you dig deeper—into the recesses of your heart, into shadows most people were too afraid to explore.

Surely, there was no harm in doing some light research, right? It’s not like you were going to end up on some FBI watchlist just for being curious about murder methods.

Right?

Being a news reporter gave you plenty of access to grim realities. You had an eye for the grotesque, the macabre. You couldn’t help but marvel at the artistry in the work of the city’s most infamous killer. The Butcher, as the media had branded them, was a twisted kind of genius. Their victims—if you could even call them that—were their canvas. Each one a masterpiece of gore and carnage. Fleshed out, literally, in a way that screamed passion and precision.

To the public, it was nauseating. To you?

It was inspiring.

You toyed with the idea of writing about them, a crowbar-wielding serial killer stalking the streets. The thing is...you didn’t know much about crowbars. Did they bash? Bludgeon? Crush? Did it take more than one hit? You needed details, and where better to get them than the internet?

T.com had a certain charm to it. The best (and worst) of humanity hung out there. You figured it was safer than delving into the dark web, so you posted your question there.

asking for a friend hey can anyone with experience killing a person with a crowbar dm me, it's really important thank you.

The post was short, straightforward, and definitely not suspicious. Nothing that would have people side-eyeing you...right? You weren’t that desperate to go digging into the deep web for inspiration. Yet.

You hit “post.”

And then you waited.

It didn’t take long for someone to slide into your DMs.

That DM changed everything.

You met him,

Your muse. Your inspiration. Your… childhood tragedy.

The sender’s username was cryptic, but the link they shared—“killrch8t_b00t.mango”—was even more so. Against your better judgment, you clicked it. What you found was...unexpected. A server. A private chatroom for people like you.

Only, they weren’t writers. They were killers.

At first, you didn’t know it was him. But looking back now, it all makes sense. So, dear writer, here’s what happened:

You were just a simple writer, but you somehow got invited to a serial killer server by a guy who apparently adores crowbars. It didn’t take long for you to realize that this guy? He was the Butcher.

So, naturally, you decided to play along. To “slay,” as they say.

At first, you didn’t realize who you were talking to. The Butcher. The Butcher. You thought you were chatting with some edgy wannabe, someone cosplaying as the city’s most notorious murderer. But as the conversation progressed, it became clear.

It was him.

He was surprisingly...charming. Flirty, even, in a deranged sort of way. The kind of guy who’d make you laugh one second and send shivers down your spine the next.

So, naturally, you decided to play along. To “slay,” as they say. You started by reacting to his roles he reacted with:

😇 Fun ❌ Crowbar 🔪 Sharp Objects 🩸 I love the thrill of the rush 😮 I have this thing called an ego

You figured that maybe if you showed him the right mix of enthusiasm, he’d notice you. The Devil himself would grant you his blessings—or maybe just the motivation you so desperately needed.

After all, all his crimes... they involve a crowbar.

It was almost too easy to talk to him. His messages were a mix of sarcasm, wit, and razor-sharp insight. But there was an edge to everything he said, a challenge beneath the surface. He asked questions that made your pulse quicken, like he was daring you to prove yourself. To impress him.

Then he upped the ante.

He wanted you to kill someone. Not just theoretically, but for real. To send a picture. Proof. He wanted you to baptize yourself in blood—or maybe he just wanted to see how far you’d go to entertain him.

You laughed it off at first. He had to be joking. Right?

But he wasn’t.

The scary part wasn’t that he asked. It was that you didn’t immediately say no.

The conversations grew darker, deeper. Somewhere along the way, he stopped being just “The Butcher” and became a person to you. Someone sad. Lonely, even. Beneath the bravado and the bloodlust, there was something broken about him. And damn it if you weren’t the kind of person who thought you could fix people.

Strangely, you started to feel bad for him. He seemed... sad. Not in a pathetic way, but in a way that made you think: Hey, maybe this edgy maniac has layers. You weren’t dumb enough to think you could “fix” him, but maybe, just maybe, you could understand him.

But the thought still lingered.

You joked about plotting his murder. His reply? He blushed. He actually blushed. The idea of you thinking about him—obsessing over him—clearly thrilled him. It was hard to tell if he was serious or just toying with you. Either way, it felt like flirting.

Was it flirting? It was definitely something.

Everything was fine. Well, as fine as it could be when you were chatting with a notorious killer. He hadn’t turned on you. Not yet.

And then the channel appeared.

“artistic-license.”

The Butcher’s tone shifted the moment it opened. Gone was the playful banter, replaced with something cold and calculating. He knew who you were. Knew more than you’d ever shared.

“You can be my muse,” he said, voice dripping with menace. “As long as you’re willing to be my victim.”

Your blood ran cold.

It had been a game to him, all along. A hunt. And now, you weren’t sure if you were the predator or the prey.

Oh, shit.

Maybe it felt like you were in a chokehold, always watched, unable to escape, because your heart already beat only for the server. It wasn’t just obsession; it was survival. Once you left, it felt like your heart stopped altogether. That’s what kept you tethered, trapped in a conflict with yourself. Afraid of the nightmares. Afraid of him.

Was it the people? Or was it him? The Devil himself, Ronin.

Oh, but you didn’t leave, did you? You stayed. You stayed because every moment away from that server gnawed at you. And even when you closed your eyes, sleep wasn’t an escape. Not from him. Not from the Devil.

The dream was vivid. A whispered laughter danced through your mind, teasing and cold. A crowbar pressed against your neck, its chill seeping into your skin. The man in front of you had a Lucifer’s smile, a grin both wicked and divine. His eyes held a whisper of flame—bright, hot, dangerous. He wasn’t just playing at being the Devil; he embodied it. The Devil himself. Your Devil.

He leaned closer, and his breath was warm against your ear. “Why fight it, darling?” he murmured. “You came here for me. You stayed for me. And you’ll never leave… for me.” His voice was honeyed poison, sweet and lethal.

You tried to step back, but the crowbar pressed harder, pinning you in place. His laughter curled around you, low and dark, like smoke from a fire you couldn’t escape.

“Oh, you’re scared,” he said, and his grin widened. “Good. Fear looks so pretty on you.”

You wanted to scream, to lash out, but you couldn’t. Your body betrayed you, frozen under the weight of his gaze. He tilted his head, studying you with an almost tender curiosity, as if deciding whether to devour you whole or savor you bite by bite.

“You know what I love about you?” he whispered. “Your heart. It beats so fast, so loud, like it’s trying to call me closer. And you know what’s funny? It’s mine. Always has been. You just didn’t realize it yet.”

His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was soft, almost reverent, but it sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“Don’t look so frightened, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a velvet caress. “You wanted this. You wanted me.”

And then, just as quickly as it began, it ended. The crowbar disappeared. The Devil vanished. You woke with a start, gasping for air, your pulse hammering against your ribs. It was just a dream. Just a stupid, terrifying, beautiful dream.

You woke from a dream, if you could even call it that. A whispered laughter echoed in your ears, chilling and intimate, and the ghost of a crowbar lingered against your neck. The man in front of you—his grin sharp as a blade, his eyes alight with a flicker of Hell itself. He was Lucifer's shadow, Lucifer's whisper—no, not a shadow. The Devil incarnate. The Devil he had to be.

Except… you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t. Not entirely.

You could write. Or you could log in and see what the server was doing. The decision was easy.

You logged in. The server was quiet. No one was online.

Except for him.

Mr. Devil himself.

A notification popped up: Incoming call.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the mouse. Then, with a resigned sigh, you clicked accept.

The screen flickered, and there he was. Ronin—sharp-eyed and grinning like he knew every secret you’d ever tried to bury. His voice was a low drawl, smooth and intoxicating.

“Hey,” he greeted, leaning closer to the camera as if trying to bridge the digital gap between you.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice more breathless than you intended. “What are you doing up so late?”

His grin widened. “Same could be said for you, darlin’. What’s up? Stayin’ up late for that midnight inspiration?”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Why are you doing this?” you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Ronin laughed, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Fucking with writers is my specialty, what can I say?” His gaze pinned you in place, even through the screen. “I told you, darlin’. You come to me, and I give you whatever the fuck you want. Isn’t this your dream? I’m your wish, come true.”

His voice dipped lower, each word a dark caress. “And you’re fucked, ‘cause I know exactly who you are, Y/N.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Did I mention that I got your IP the second you logged onto the server? Yeah, yeah. Internet safety and all that shit. Don’t talk to strangers, right? ‘Cause you never know who you might come across.”

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. His grin turned sharper, almost predatory.

“Lost for words?” he teased, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “I know. I’m so fucking charming.”

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen up, sweetheart. I’ll be visiting you soon. Crowbar in hand. Unless…” His eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “Unless you find me first. Happy hunting, baby.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving you staring at your reflection in the now-black screen. Your mind raced, heart pounding in your chest.

You were in trouble.

Loving the Devil had been your first mistake. Thinking he might actually love you back was your second. And falling for his corruption, his twisted games—that was your third and most damning sin.

Ronin had known exactly what he was doing when he invited you to his server. He’d seen through your persona, found amusement in your attempts to remain aloof. To him, you were a game, a challenge—and he wanted to win. He always did.

Now, there was only one way out. He’d told you himself: you had to find him first. The question was, could you?

It was 14 February.

It was February 14th. Oh, shit. You had dreamt…

Of your first love.

Angelwood.

A place you wouldn’t mind setting ablaze, just for the hell of it.

It ruined your life. It scarred you. It made you feel worthless.

Angelwood—a repressed, self-righteous town drenched in hollow piety.

You wanted to die. Your family had discovered something about you, something that didn’t align with their narrow version of normal. Something unholy, they said.

They went to the Pastor. He declared you a changed person. No, worse. He called you a demon. Because you had dared to correct him.

Didn’t God love everyone? Didn’t He embrace whatever or whoever you were? You screamed those questions into the void of your mind, but no answers ever came. Only shame, only pain.

Standing on the bridge, it felt right. They said that if you died like this, you’d go to hell.

To hell with them, then.

But it didn’t happen.

Someone… someone stopped you. A bag was thrown over your head, and you were yanked back. Struggling, gasping, you felt their grip tighten. They didn’t remove the bag. They just… held you.

“Hah, it’s those bastards who should be dying,” a voice whispered, raw and jagged, like shattered glass on pavement. “Why you, darlin’?”

The words dripped like honeyed venom into your ear, muffled by the cloth that separated you. Their breath was warm, close. Too close.

Their hands… they were slick, coated with something thick and wet. Paint? No. You knew it wasn’t paint. A chill ran down your spine as their grip shifted to your throat, firm yet deliberate.

“If you’re willing to go to hell by dying, then live. Live to go to hell by committing the mistake they all cursed you for. Be the devil they see you as. That’s the word of your good ol’ Beaufort.”

Beaufort…?

You woke up with a start.

Ah.

Your cheeks burned. You had dreamt about them again—the person who had saved you.

It was because of them that you ran. You left Angelwood, the town that broke you, and you started over. They were right.

They had saved you.

And so, you lived.

Your first love....

After finishing all your daily activities, you logged into the server. Sure, Ronin might have doxxed you, and you might very well be on his victim list. But hey, you’re still alive! For now.

It was Valentine’s Day, after all. A day of love and romance—and apparently, the Devil himself had a touch of sentimentality when he wasn’t actively planning your demise. You logged in, partly to distract yourself and partly to see how Luca and Feli were celebrating. Those two were pure, unadulterated sweetness, even amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

And they didn’t disappoint. Their interactions were as heartwarming as ever. Feli teased Luca; Luca gushed over her, a lovesick puppy in human form. But then, Angel decided to stir the pot.

"How many serial killers are in love, and who’s in the singles’ awareness club?" she asked.

Luca and Feli, of course, remained adorably entangled in their own little world. But then Angel turned her sights on you.

"What about you, @Readerintocrowbars? Anything you’d like to share?"

Your heart stuttered. Angel’s knack for pushing buttons was unparalleled. You were about to type "single," keeping it simple, when a direct message popped up. It wasn’t from Luca or Feli.

It was from him.

"Go on," Ronin’s message read, "tell them you’re dancing with the Devil."

The audacity of this man. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your frustration bubbling into something like amusement. There was, after all, a certain poetic irony in loving a man who was actively planning your downfall.

Still, you couldn’t let him win so easily. Could you?

“I’m with the Devil,” you typed proudly.

Ronin’s response came almost instantly:

“Loud and proud! I like it!”

Your stomach flipped. Was that pride in his tone? Satisfaction? Maybe both? Before you could analyze it, Angel piped up again, suggesting everyone hop into a call since she’d been too busy with work to catch up properly.

The call was lively, as expected. Luca quoted a line from that infamous movie about talking cars, and the laughter that followed was infectious. Everything felt normal—or as normal as it could, given the company.

Until someone started teasing.

"You and Ronin, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Luca sing-songed, earning a round of snickers.

The laughter erupted again, and your face burned. Tragic? Maybe. A little amusing? Definitely. You couldn’t help but think that Beaufort didn’t save you all those years ago just for this moment—to be teased for flirting with death himself. And yet, here you were, tangled in a devilish game that only seemed to deepen with every passing day.

Narrative Version

The air was thick with tension as Ronin leaned back against the wall, his smirk sharp enough to cut through the silence. His gaze, dark and piercing, settled on his companion, waiting for the game to unfold. The words "Truth or Dare" hung in the air like a challenge.

He grinned, his voice dripping with a dark amusement. "Happy Valentine's, darling. How's your obsession with me going?"

A slow, teasing smile tugged at the corners of their lips as they replied, the words dripping with equal parts sarcasm and intrigue. "As good as good could be."

Ronin chuckled, his eyes glinting. "You're quite the character! But I'm gettin' ahead of myself. Truth or dare?"

They raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar pull of their dynamic. "I thought I got to choose your truths."

"Whoops," Ronin muttered, feigning mock surprise. "Someone hasn't forgotten our little rule-change! You're smart. I'll let ya have at it. What've you got to say, baby?"

They took a breath, then spoke, their voice cool and composed, like they were issuing a challenge. "Truth. What's your tragedy?"

For a moment, Ronin's grin faltered, replaced by something darker—a flicker of something deep, something raw. He leaned in, his voice lowering as if the words were almost too heavy to bear. "Shit, you want me to do the full villain monologue? Fine, darlin'. We've got all day."

They gave a small, silent nod, knowing this would be something they weren’t going to forget. "So what's the devil got to say?"

Ronin's laugh was a low rumble, a sound that might have been bitter if it weren’t so wrapped in his chaos. "Dunno, whatever the fuck you want. I'm hell outta Angelwood. I stuck the pastor through his cross an' murdered a dozen more. Gone through the cities and danced devilry in 'em too."

Their lips pressed together, skepticism evident in their eyes. "I don't believe it."

His eyes burned with intensity, a mixture of fury and something more vulnerable. "All there is to me, that's all."

The silence that followed was sharp, and then they spoke again, their voice slightly softer. "That's a story, not a tragedy."

A sharp grin twisted his features, cruel and knowing. "Hoped you wouldn't notice."

Ronin straightened, his demeanor shifting, turning colder. "I had... someone... once. They were my... past. My childhood everything." His gaze softened for a fraction of a second before hardening again. "They hated to love me. Dying in it, their fuckin' tragic femininity, perfect girlhood bullshit. An' that was my dream come true. I made myself the devil to... save them."

They watched him closely, feeling the weight of his words settle between them. The pause hung thick in the air as they pressed on. "What happened?"

His voice dropped to a low rasp, like something venomous escaping his lips. "It's a shitty repressed Christ-loving town. What d'you think happened?"

They felt the words cut deeper than they'd intended. "They're gone. And I'm the devil becoming. Nothin' less, nothin' more."

A somber silence passed before they responded softly, "I'm sorry."

Ronin's eyes locked onto theirs, an almost mocking glint dancing in his stare. "Cause it's all your fault. Sure. Say it again and again and we'll save her together. Curse my name three times and rewind time. Clap your hands, call me a devil, let's Faustian bargain this shit out. That's how it fuckin' works."

His hands flexed as if he were toying with the very air around him, the symbols on his body all too real to him. "Oh, my Satanic symbols mean nothin' to ya?"

They tilted their head slightly, unbothered. "Eh, just means you're edgy."

Ronin’s lips curled into something between a smile and a snarl. "I chose it."

Their voice softened, almost pleading, as if they were trying to reach him beyond the facade he wore. "You don't have to... do this."

The air shifted again, and Ronin stood taller, his presence dominating the room. "Pretend you're larger-than-life. Like you're... the devil you are."

"And that's the rub," he muttered, a dark edge creeping into his words. "The devil I am. An' you can't deny it, can ya? That's who I am."

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "What d'you think, darling? Is it tragic enough for you?" His tone was an almost mockingly sweet whisper as if daring them to say otherwise.

RONIN leaned back, his smirk fading into something softer, something almost vulnerable. "So," he drawled, breaking the silence, "what do you think? Tragic enough for ya?"

You hesitated, your gaze fixed on him. "It’s true," you finally admitted, your voice quieter now. "It’s… tragic."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you hung heavy, thick with shared secrets and the weight of things unsaid. Finally, you broke the silence. "What if I told you," you began cautiously, "that I’ve had my own sad experiences with Angelwood?"

RONIN’s eyes snapped to yours, surprise flickering across his face. "Angelwood? You… you’re from there too?" His expression was a mixture of shock and curiosity, like he was piecing together a puzzle he didn’t know existed. "What, did the town call you a devil too?"

A bitter laugh escaped you. "Something like that," you admitted. "I… didn’t realize you were from the same shitty town. That explains a lot." You paused, glancing down as memories threatened to resurface. "That’s why I’ve always hated Christmas," you added, almost as an afterthought.

At that, RONIN looked away, his jaw tightening. His fingers drummed against his knee, a restless rhythm betraying his discomfort. The vulnerability from earlier was back, tugging at the edges of his devil-may-care facade.

You studied him for a moment before speaking again. "From the looks of it," you said carefully, "you must’ve had… someone. A past lover, maybe? That’s who… Ther… that person was, wasn’t it?"

His reaction was immediate and telling—a sharp intake of breath, a brief clench of his fists. He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t confirm it either. Instead, he looked away, refusing to meet your eyes.

Something stirred in the back of your mind, a fragment of a memory that had been buried for years. "Now that I think about it," you murmured, almost to yourself, "it sounds familiar. I might’ve noticed them once."

RONIN’s head turned slightly at that, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might say something, but the words never came. And just like that, the fragile thread connecting you both was severed, the silence between you growing heavier with every passing second.

Neither of you said anything after that. Maybe it was better this way, leaving the past untouched, the wounds unspoken.

You paused, your gaze flickering down to your hands, fingers tapping restlessly against the cold surface. The moment felt strange, like the silence between you and Ronin was both too heavy and too light, like it was waiting for something deeper to unfold.

You took a deep breath before speaking again, voice softer now, a tremor beneath your words. "My past... it's true. There was a pastor—someone my family trusted completely. They didn’t see me for what I was. Instead, they took me to him, believing I was... possessed. That something inside me made me broken, that I wasn’t just going through problems. They thought a demon caught me."

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. "They didn’t get that I wasn’t crazy. But the pastor? He told them I was. That I was the devil himself. And my family—my own flesh and blood—they believed him. They stopped seeing me as , their child. They saw a demon. They called me that, said I didn’t deserve to live. That I was better off dead."

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and raw. You swallowed hard, shaking your head as if trying to shake off the memories. "So, I thought about it. Thought about ending it before... before they could."

You sat back, the weight of your own past pressing down on you as you began to speak, your voice raw but steady. "It's true," you said softly, looking away for a moment as the memories started to unravel. "The pastor, the one my family trusted... he took me there. Instead of getting me the help I needed, he... he decided I was possessed. That I was some demon, not a person who just had problems."

A bitter laugh escaped you, but it quickly died in the air. "They believed him, you know? My own family... They didn’t see me. They saw what he said, believed every word of it. 'The devil's child,' they called me." You paused, feeling the heaviness of it all. "They told me I didn’t deserve to live. And in the end, I almost believed them."

RONIN’s eyes narrowed, studying you closely, but he didn’t interrupt. There was something in his gaze, something that almost looked like recognition.

You closed your eyes, gathering your thoughts. "Before I could do it—before I could end it all... someone saved me. They didn’t show themselves, just a shadow. Covered in blood, but they didn’t hurt me. They... they spoke to me, offered advice. Told me that I wasn’t broken. That there was something more. Something that could keep me going."

The memory felt like a whisper in your mind, fading in and out, but the core of it remained. "That’s what I am now. That’s why I’m always so... adamant. Sticking to this point, this dynamic. I’m not the devil they wanted me to be. I’m someone else."

You turned your gaze back to Ronin, your voice taking on a different edge, almost teasing. "And that’s what I see between us. You’re always saying things like, 'Die for me, kill me like a loverboy would, carve out your aorta and serve it on a silver platter.' It’s your trademark. Your little game. But I’ve got something else in mind."

The air shifted as you leaned in slightly, eyes locking with his, your voice lowering. "What if I said, 'Live for me, thrive in this hellscape with me. May death do us part.'"

For a moment, it felt like you were the one pulling the strings, the roles shifting. You grinned, watching Ronin’s expression flicker with something... amused, almost intrigued. "We play our little game, don’t we? Witty banter, dangerous charm, back and forth, like some twisted dance. But, maybe… maybe this time, we dance a different tune."

You chuckled softly, leaning back, your smile lingering. "It’s cute, isn’t it? The way we both cling to these dynamics, testing each other. How cute you and I are together... this twisted little connection we’ve built. You're someone who finds death hot. I find living hot."

You could feel Ronin’s eyes on you, the tension between you both shifting again, but now with a certain understanding—a kind of recognition of the game that was always being played, the layers of darkness you both wore like masks.

"So you should totally let me live." You said with a wink.

"Haha, No Darling, Sorry."

"It was..worth a shot you know.."

RONIN chuckled darkly, the sound rich with mockery. "Live for me, thrive in this hellscape," he mimicked, a wicked grin tugging at his lips as he leaned forward. "Oh, how cute. You really think you’re the opposite of me? You think that makes you better? That somehow, you can survive all this... this mess we’re in and I can't?"

His eyes glinted with amusement as he continued, the taunt hanging in the air, sharp and biting. "Well, sweetheart, keep thinking that. But the truth is," his smile stretched wider, almost too wide, as if savoring the irony. "We're both just as fucked up. And you know it."

He leaned back, eyes narrowing with that familiar calculating gaze. "Anyway," he muttered, almost to himself, before focusing back on you, "Truth or dare, darling?"

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if you were ready for another one of his mind games. "Truth."

He didn’t hesitate, his eyes gleaming with sudden interest. "Alright then," he began, voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "What’s the name of the person who made you want to live? Who saved you from... yourself?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. You stared at him for a beat, the answer already clear in your mind, but somehow, saying it out loud felt different.

"Beaufort," you replied softly, the name slipping from your lips like it had always belonged there.

RONIN’s eyes widened, a flicker of something dark crossing his features—surprise, recognition, maybe even a twinge of jealousy. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the same cool indifference he always wore.

He remained silent for a moment, studying you like he was trying to figure out something about you he hadn’t seen before. The tension was palpable, the space between you both electric with unspoken thoughts.

Finally, a slow, almost predatory smile spread across his face. "So," he said, voice low, dangerous, "you already know the answer, don’t you? You already know."

Your eyes narrowed, confused but intrigued. "What do you mean?" you asked, leaning forward just a little, trying to read him. "What answer?"

He didn’t respond immediately, instead just smiling like he held some private victory. The silence stretched, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was toying with you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. "Truth," you said again, a playful edge to your voice despite the growing tension. "I want to hear your name."

RONIN’s grin grew wider, sharper, and he leaned closer to the screen. His gaze was now fixed on you, a glint of something dangerous dancing in his eyes. "You want my name, huh?" he asked softly, voice almost too smooth. "You’ll hear it. In your dreams, darling."

He paused, letting the words sink in, watching you carefully. "I’ll whisper it to you, if you really want to know. But... I think you’ll hear it soon enough. You’ll dream about it already, won’t you?"

Before you could respond, he cut the call abruptly, leaving the silence hanging in the air, thick with unanswered questions and the promise of something far darker.

You quickly reconnect the call, the screen flickering before Ronin’s face fills the frame again, his expression a mix of amusement and that ever-present darkness in his eyes. He leans back, his tongue lazily brushing over his lips as he smirks.

"Back again?" he drawls, voice dripping with mock curiosity. "What is it, darling? Got something more to say? What’s left to talk about?"

You meet his gaze, steady and unwavering. "I understand what you meant earlier," you say, your voice a little more serious this time, though there’s still a playful edge to it. "You won’t tell me your name. I have to figure it out myself, right?"

RONIN’s smirk widens, his tongue poking out as he nods slowly. "Exactly, babe. That’s the fun of it. You gotta solve the puzzle. Don’t expect me to make it easy for you."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "I get it," you say, then pause for a beat, leaning a little closer to the camera. "But, I have a request. Will the devil hear it?"

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued, yet a bit amused. "A request, huh? What do you want, darling? Ask away."

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking. "I’ve always celebrated with my crush... whoever it may be. And honestly, whether I die tomorrow or not, I want to spend the time I have left with someone I like. I’ve chosen you, Ronin. Even if you want to kill me... I want to live with you. So, what do you say?"

You pause for a moment, watching him, then slowly extend your hand toward the camera, your fingers trembling just slightly. "Will you be my date? My love... until our time comes? Even before you kill me?"

RONIN’s eyes flicker with something—surprise? Maybe a little satisfaction? His lips twitch as he watches you, and for a second, you can’t tell if he’s going to laugh or sneer.

He chuckles softly, the sound low and dark, yet there's a genuine edge to it that almost sounds like... admiration. "You’re something else, aren’t you?" he mutters, his gaze flicking away from the camera for a moment, his fingers twitching as if he’s considering something.

"You really think a little thing like death is gonna stop us?" he asks, his voice almost contemplative now, his usual bravado slipping just slightly. "You’re not scared of me, are you?"

You don't flinch, keeping your hand out, your voice steady despite the tension. "No. I’m not scared. I want to be with you."

There’s a long silence, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. But then, his eyes meet yours again, and his grin spreads slowly, like a snake ready to strike.

"Fine," he says, his voice quieter, almost sincere, though still laced with that dangerous edge. "Yes. I’ll be your date... until the time comes. It’s cute, really, how you keep pushing me. But let’s see how long that lasts."

He looks away briefly, his lips curling into something dangerously close to a smile, though his eyes remain distant, almost lost in thought.

"Guess I kinda wanted to say yes, anyway," he mutters under his breath, but you hear it. You catch the shift in his tone—just enough to know that maybe, just maybe, he’s not as indifferent as he lets on.

With that...You spent your last love-day they say, With the man who wants to kill you and carve out your aorta.

So pretty.

this is just part 1! ill do part 2 soon!

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #ronin beaufort #killer chat ronin x reader #ronin killer chat #killer chat vn #killer chat x reader #ronin beaufort x reader #ronin x reader #kc ronin #ronin

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