nappingnai

[nappingnai]

Loving your perfections

( killer chat ) ronin x reader .... hurt/comfort

trigger warning:

self harm / mention of self harm

“May I kiss your scars?”

-

The house is silent, yet it screams. Every room is filled with the weight of unspoken words, averted gazes, and unfulfilled hands reaching for you. The air is thick and heavy, pressing down on your chest and making it difficult to breathe. You move through the space like a ghost, your footsteps careful, your voice quiet, as though you know you're there and they'd better get used to it.

Their love is conditional and fleeting. It's like the faint warmth of a sunbeam on a cold day, there for a moment and then gone. You know better than to expect tenderness or hope for affection. Hope is dangerous here. Hope is crushed under the weight of their indifference, their biting words and their quick tempers.

The bruises may not always show, but they linger. Sometimes they leave ugly marks on your skin, a stark testament to their rage. More often, they take root in your mind, spreading like a dark vine that chokes out your self-worth. They tell you it's your fault – you're too loud, too sensitive, too much – and you believe them because they are supposed to be your foundation, your truth. But you know better.

The little cruelties are the worst. A sneer when you try to share something you love is unacceptable. A laugh at your tears is unacceptable. They dismiss your dreams as foolish, as if the very act of wanting is something to be ashamed of. You learn to bottle up your joy, to stifle your pain, to exist in a muted, half-formed version of yourself because you know that anything more is dangerous.

You have tried to make them see you and hear you. You've tried to be perfect, to earn their love through achievements, through obedience, through silence. And you will. But when their attention is finally given, it's like a spotlight burning you. It burns you with expectations you can never meet and leaves you feeling like it has slapped you across the face with disappointment.

Sometimes, you see what could be. You see it in the rare moments when their guard is down. A soft word, a hand resting on your shoulder for just a second too long. You cling to those scraps, weaving them into something resembling love, even though you know deep down it's not enough. It will never be enough.

You carry this with you: the emptiness, the ache. It becomes part of you, influencing how you see the world and how you see yourself. You recoil from kindness, distrust sincerity because you know love is a weapon disguised as a gift. You know you will feel whole again and you will be free of their shadow.

And yet, you endure. You build walls to protect what's left of you. You shield the fragile parts they couldn't reach. You find solace in the small things: the warmth of the sun on your face, the pages of a book, the laughter of a friend who sees you as you are. It may not be enough to heal you, not yet, but it's enough to remind you that life can hold more than this. There is a version of you that is loved, that is whole, that is free, and it exists beyond their grasp.

-

The walls of your home close in, suffocating you under the weight of words too sharp, too cruel. They echo in your mind long after they've been spoken, embedding themselves like shards of glass beneath your skin. The air is thick with tension, a poisonous fog that clings to every corner, every breath. You can feel it settling in your bones, heavy and unyielding, leaving you hollowed out and aching.

The voices rise and fall, but they never really stop. They lash out like whips, tearing through your fragile defences until all that's left is raw, bleeding vulnerability. You sit there staring at the cracks in the wall, your body motionless as your mind screams for escape. The urge to flee grows stronger with each passing second, but where would you go? This is your home - or at least it's supposed to be.

The pain begins as a whisper, a quiet plea at the back of your mind, promising release, promising control. It grows louder with every tear you swallow, every insult you endure, until it becomes deafening, a relentless roar that demands to be silenced. Your hands tremble as you reach for the blade, the cold metal biting into your palm like a lifeline.

The first cut is tentative, a thin red line drawn across your skin. The pain is sharp, immediate, but it's also grounding, a reminder that you're still here, still alive. You watch as the blood gushes out, bright and crimson, and for a moment the chaos settles. The noise in your head fades, replaced by the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, the warmth of the blood trickling down your arm.

But it doesn't last. The relief is fleeting, fading as quickly as it came, leaving only guilt and a deeper ache. The blade is no longer enough to drown out the storm, no longer enough to numb the pain. The cuts grow deeper, the blood flows faster, but the emptiness inside you only grows, an insatiable void that swallows everything in its path.

You know you can't stay here, not tonight. The walls are too close, the voices too loud, the blade too tempting. You reach for your phone, your fingers shaking as you type a message to your boyfriend. The words are simple, almost apologetic: Can I come over? I just need to get away from here.

Ronin reply comes quickly, reassuring in its brevity: I'll wait, darling.

You slip out of the house under the cover of darkness, the chill of the night air biting at your skin. The walk to his place feels endless, each step heavy with the weight of your exhaustion, your shame. You clutch your sleeve tightly, hiding the fresh cuts beneath the fabric, but the sting is a constant reminder of your fragility.

When you arrive, Ronin is already at the door, opening it instantly. Inside, the atmosphere is very different from the chaos you left behind. The air is calm, the walls free of tension, the silence soothing rather than oppressive. He leads you to the couch, his hand never leaving yours, and you sink into the cushions with a sigh that feels like surrender.

Ronin disappears for a moment and returns with a blanket and a cup of tea or coffee, their warmth a balm for the cold that has seeped into your soul. You take the beverage with trembling hands, your fingers brushing against his as you murmur a quiet thank you.

As the night wears on, Ronin stays by your side, his presence a constant anchor in the storm. He doesn't ask about the cuts, though his gaze lingers on your sleeve more than once. Instead, he talks about small things - his day at work, a funny story about a mutual friend, though it is most likely a rant about V - filling the silence with a gentle hum of normalcy.

That night, as you lie in Ronin’s bed, wrapped in the cocoon of his warmth, you feel the tiniest glimmer of hope. It's faint, fragile, but it's there - a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there's a light waiting to guide you back.

In the stillness of Ronin’s room, the blade feels miles away, its hold on you weakened by the power of his love. And though the storm still rages within you, you take comfort in knowing you don't have to face it alone.

-

The night deepens, shadows stretching long across the room as you lie there, cocooned in the sanctuary of his presence. His breathing is a soft cadence, steady and grounding, and you cling to it like a lifeline. The silence here isn't suffocating; it feels wide and open, a space where you can finally exhale without fear of your vulnerability being weaponized.

Your fingers brush against Ronin’s, tentative at first, as if afraid to disturb this fragile peace. But as he moves closer in his sleep, his arm draped protectively over your waist, you feel a flicker of something you thought you'd lost: the faintest echo of safety. Ronin’s warmth seeps into you, chasing away the cold that has clung to your skin all day, and for a moment the weight on your chest lifts just enough to let you breathe.

But the darkness inside you isn't so easily silenced. It lingers at the edges, coiled and waiting, whispering its cruel truths in the quiet of the night. This is temporary, it hisses. It'll be tiring. He'll leave. You'll always be too much. The absence of the blade feels like a pain, its promise of releasing a ghost that haunts you even here.

You close your eyes, trying to drown out the voices, but they're relentless, their barbs digging deeper into your mind. A small sob escapes, muffled against the pillow, and you freeze, afraid to wake him, afraid to shatter the fragile peace of this moment. But then Ronin’s arm tightens around you, his hand brushing your back in a sleepy gesture of comfort, and the dam breaks.

The tears come in a torrent, hot and unrelenting, spilling down your cheeks as your body shakes with the force of them. The bed creaks softly as Ronin stirs, his warmth drawing closer in the stillness of the night. His hand brushes against your shoulder, tentative, like an unspoken question. Through the blur of tears, you feel the mattress sink as he sits up beside you, his presence steady, unwavering. The room is dark, but his concern is a piercing light, pulling you back from the brink, inch by inch.

Ronin doesn't rush, doesn't ask for explanations. Instead, he moves with the patience of someone who knows the fragility of this moment, as if one wrong word could cause you to crumble further. His fingers find yours, hesitantly but deliberately, and he gives a gentle squeeze, a silent I'm here. "Can I touch you?" Ronin murmurs, his voice a quiet anchor in the storm.

When you nod, almost imperceptibly, Ronin moves closer. His hands are careful as they guide you upright, his touch grounding, never forceful. Ronin watches you, his gaze soft but intent, as if you're the only thing that matters in this vast, uncaring world. His hands linger on your arms, not to hold you down but to steady you, to let you know you're not alone in this moment of unravelling.

The tears come harder now, spilling unchecked, but his presence doesn't waver. He stays with you, his hands a reassuring weight, Ronin’s voice a low murmur of comfort. "I have you," he says, not as a promise to fix you, but as a vow to stay, to hold space for your grief. In his steadiness, you feel the first faint threads of safety, a fragile reminder that even in your darkest moments, you don't have to face them alone.

The days blur together, a haze of pain and fleeting moments of comfort, but his presence remains constant, like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. Every night, when the weight of the world weighs too heavily on your chest, you find yourself in his arms, seeking the solace you can't seem to find anywhere else. His hands are gentle, his voice a soft murmur, grounding you in the present when your mind threatens to spiral out of control.

One evening, after the storm inside you has left you hollow and trembling, he gently takes your hand in his. His touch is reverent, as if you were something fragile, something precious. "May I?" he asks, his eyes searching yours, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. You nod, unsure of what he's asking, but trusting him anyway.

He slowly lifts your sleeve, revealing the lines etched into your skin, a map of your pain. For a moment he says nothing, his fingers tracing the scars with a touch so light it's almost ghostly. His brow furrows, not with disgust or pity, but with an aching kind of sorrow, as if he wishes he could reach back in time and pull you away from the blade, for he too understands that feeling.

Before you can react, he leans down, his lips brushing one of the scars, soft and warm. The kiss lingers, a silent promise, before he pulls away to meet your gaze. "You're still here," he says, his voice shaking with emotion. "You're still fighting. That's worth celebrating."

His words unravel something deep inside you, a knot of shame and self-loathing you've carried for far too long. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, but before they can fall, Ronin kisses another scar, his lips soft against the raised line. You want to protest, to tell Ronin he's wrong, that these marks are a testament to your failure, not your strength. But the way Ronin looks at you, with a tenderness that seems to reach into the depths of your soul, leaves you speechless.

Ronin continues, moving slowly, deliberately, his lips brushing each scar as if to seal it with love, with acceptance. "You are not your pain," he murmurs between kisses. The vulnerability of the moment is overwhelming, like standing naked in the middle of a storm. Ronin’s words pierce the darkness in your mind, scattering the shadows with their light. For the first time, you're not ashamed of your scars; you feel seen, truly seen, in a way that takes your breath away.

As he finishes, Ronin’s hands move to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have begun to fall. "You are breathtaking," Ronin says, his voice firm but gentle, as if daring you to argue. "Every part of you, even the parts you try to hide."

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable, and it breaks something inside you. The walls you've built around your heart, fortified by years of pain and fear, begin to crumble, leaving you raw but free.

You lean into his touch, your forehead resting against his as you close your eyes. The words you've been too afraid to say, too ashamed to believe, fall from your lips in a whisper. "Thank you."

-

The night feels sacred now, the air between you charged with an unspoken understanding. His presence wraps around you like a warm blanket, shielding you from the cold emptiness that has so often consumed you.

As you lie together, Ronin’s arms holding you close, the scars on your skin no longer feel like a burden. They're part of your story, yes, but they don't define you. Not when Ronin looks at you like this, as if you're something worthy, something whole. 

The night is still and quiet, but something inside you is beginning to shift. It's small, almost imperceptible, but it's there - a spark of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness. And as his arms tighten around you, you know you're not alone in fanning it into a flame.

Love, you realize, isn't about fixing what's broken. It's about holding the pieces, cherishing them, and reminding each other that even in the midst of pain, there is beauty. And in that moment, as his warmth surrounds you and his words linger in your heart, you feel that beauty for the first time in a long time.

[nappingnai]

Hi!! Hope you're doing good! :) Can you write a mute MC x Ronin fanfic? (they had a lot of vc during the game, it would be nice to have them play truth or dare). Thank you <3

The Devil is your voice.

You were tapping a rhythm on your desk nervously. You have just received a invite to some wacky server on dark web. It was strange truly, you just wanted someone to tell you how killing with a crowbar worked, but now you were being invited to a community? Maybe people with interests similar to your would be there?

You sighed, one of the only sounds that ever left your mouth and didn't sound weird or muffled because of your disability. Yes, you're mute. You visited more doctors and therapists since your muteness was found out than any adult in your family ever had.

You didn't have many friends, not a lot od people wanted to speak to the weird quiet kid who always sat alone and had some form of special treatment. Solitude does strange things to people, for you it was hyperfixating on murderers and stories about them. You were in love with the gore, a murder didn't need voice to be gruesome and intriguing, that's what you loved the most about it.

You clicked the link. Filled in the password that the random person sent and a copy-paste version of Discord was in front of your eyes now.

goreboy: welcome new christanaised @user!

hitmeuppp: WELCOME TO HELL

More welcoming messages were sent by the server's members. You watched it all in confusion, no one was so welcoming to you before. It felt pleasant. Even if they were greeting you because they wanted to be polite, it made you smile a little bit. It's definitely the loneliness that made you so excited because of a few silly greetings.

user: Hello :)

goreboy: don't Forget to check #rules

goreboy: there's barely Anything there but yk

You clicked on the rules channel, it would be best to follow their rules especially after the wam welcome. You were expecting a long list of rules, but what you saw exceeded all your expectations.

goreboy: be a serial killer, First rule of fight club. oh yeah and don't Be transphobic, racist and other weird shit. or angel will Snipe you.

Angelic: And it's not a threat, it's a promise.

. . . What.

Serial killers? No, that has to be a joke. Right?

You spent weeks in the server, and it turns out that these are real serial killers. The Butcher, The Heartsick Angel and some more. You were positively horrified? Yes, they could discover you and kill you, but you could gain more knowledge to your book. The only risk you're facing is losing your life, and it's only if you won't play the game right.

The person who stuck in your mind the most was goreboy, also known as The Butcher, or Ronin. He held his surname as a secret, you weren't too angry about it, you had a secret on your own too, or more than one secret actually.

You decided to hide the fact that you're mute, you were worried that they would treat you like other people did. There was one big problem tho, the killers really wanted you to join voice calls with them and you couldn't just give them half assed excuses, right? To your surprise every time they wanted to call with you, Ronin appeared from nowhere to save you.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: Hey dude hop on call with us!!!! @user

hitmeuppp: yeah! we have to hear you :3

What the hell are you supposed to do now?

While you were struggling to find a new excuse, Ronin decided to come out and save you... again.

goreboy: sorry folks

goreboy: the devil Is on the Line rn

You were surprised every time he did that. Why would Ronin keep on saving you? What's there in it for him?

You decided to send him a dm, it's time to face the devil.

user: Why are you doing this?

goreboy: doin' what?

goreboy: saving your ass? well it's not fun to watch you think of a Magical excuse

goreboy: Unfortunately they stopped working, killers are ready To attack

goreboy: and trust me, Eight murderers at your ass? that's not fun.

You read his messages, it made sense right? But wait... how did he know about the excuses being lies? His style of texting infatuated you too. Why the capital letters in the middle of a sentence?

You remembered Angel saying something about Ronin hiding messages like that. You decided to follow it and read the four capitalized letters.

Mute.

oh.

oh no. He knows.

goreboy is calling.

You didn't even have time to panic, Ronin didn't wait around, he just called. Well it's good to see the person who can be a serious threat to you, how the saying goes; keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

You picked up. A guy with plum coloured hair hidden under a beanie with red horns was looking at you. His eyes black and empty, like two black holes ready to swallow you.

< Hey darling. >

He signed. It was slow, like he tried t be careful about his movements. It felt like he was fairly new at this, the floppiness was there.

Wait.

He did what?!

Well, that was a shocker to say the least. You were looking at Ronin, your eyes widened.

< You sign? >

You signed back, sharp and fast, matching you anxiety, the first shock slowly left You were looking at Ronin's face, he was focusing his attention on your hands, then he just chuckled and shook his head.

"I assume that you asked if I know sign language? Well, I started to learn after I discovered your little issue."

He admitted, a smirk glued to his face. He was amused. You were amusing to him...

You sighed, guess you'll have to type most of your questions.

user: How do you know about this?

He read your message and then looked back at you.

"Wasn't hard. You should be careful about the links your click, Y/N."

So grabbing your IP wasn't just a joke. Does it mean that he knows everything? No, if he did you would be dead, he would know that you are not a serial killer.

user: Why are you keeping my secret?

He didn't answer your question. He just looked into your eyes.

"Why do you?"

And with that he hang up. Great, that's definitely a good sign. A good sign to look for a coffin.

Before you could notice two months had passed since you joined the server, Ronin was now officially shipped with you by half of the server, and he didn't argue with them. He messaged you and called you, he did some progress with his sign language, even invented some unique signs just for the two of you.

"Hey, let's play truth or dare."

He said while the two of you were on call, you raised your eyebrow at him and he just chuckled.

"Don't give me that look, I won't dare you to confess your deepest darkest secrets darling."

You sighed and shook your head in disbelief.

< Fine. Truth or dare? >

Your hand movements were slower than usual. Yeah, Ronin could understand some of the language, but your usual pace was too fast for him to catch up with it. You weren't going to give him the upper hand here, so you asked first.

"Truth."

There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask him, about his work, motives, reasons, but one question in particular was above all of these.

user: Are you and Angel a thing?

That question was boiling in your mind. You needed to know, inspiration or not, you didn't want to write about or romance anyone who is dating, especially when their partner is a dangerous serial killer.

Ronin frowned at the question, looking away with a slight blush.

"Hah, so you noticed... Yes and no. Yeah I used to date Angel, nah we're not a thing. She taught me a lot, gave me love... closure too."

He looked back at you and smirked.

"Don't you dare tell her this sappy bullshit or you'll be fish feed."

You nodded. His answer lifted a wight off of your shoulders. Not like you had any chances with Ronin, you doubt that someone like him would like you, someone who can't talk.

"My turn. Truth or dare darling?"

He asked, you signed < dare > in response.

"Go to main, and tell'em you're obsessed with me."

Well that was an unexpected dare, but who were you to not indulge the devil in his schemes?

#main:

user: I'm obsessed with Ronin :3

Aaand sent. Time to watch the hell's gate open.

hitmeuppp: OMG WHAT

Angelic: Even I wasn't so shameless

felicite: @goreboy someone left a confession for you

goreboy: guess my Devilish charm is Working heh

"Hah! That's a good one."

He said.

You played two more rounds before the final one.

"So, 's the last round. I'm going for dare."

You thought for a second, something silly and stupid, no need to stay all serious.

user: made me a server mod ;p

"Oh hide that smug-mug."

He chuckled once he looked at your proud smile. Ronin really took pride in watching your expressions, how your mouth was forming into a smile or a scowl, your nose wrinkled when you were thinking or annoyed, or your eyes lit up when he was showing the signs the learned.

"Done."

And he hang up.

You checked and holy shit! You really are a mod now.

That was a shocker, but you couldn't expect Ronin to act rationally or be predictable, so it wasn't that weird to receive that role from him.

Ronin was really into playing his little mind games with you. Trying to irritate you to see different emotions on your face, getting you so angry that you will make sounds like groans and loud sighs, it was satisfying him. He knew that pushing you to say words would be too much, he didn't need you to speak anyway. Learning other ways to communicate or read you were a challenge, and the devil never backed away from any challenge.

December. A time for Christmas and what not. You were sitting by your desk, adding finishing touches to one of the reports you had to send back to your boss soon, at least as a news writer you didn't have to worry about talking.

You noticed how some of the killers were less active in their murderous escapades, maybe other than Angel and Ronin, Angel dropped six kills one day and Ronin, well you could feel how his murders were more of an anger outburst? Like he was hiding something in the massacred bodies.

user: Ronin are you free to talk?

You rarely asked him to call, it was mostly Ronin who did that, he called you out of the blue and talked, showing you the new signs he learned and followed your "instructions" when you noticed that one of the sign was floppier than the rest.

He got really good with signing now, you didn't have to type as much as you did before, his learning source must've been really good or expensive, or both, for him to get this well so quickly.

He wasn't replying for a while, but you could swear that he was burning a hole in his computer screen with his stare. Finally the devil graced you with a reply.

goreboy: oh you're Asking for a Call?

goreboy: how can i Ever say No to this?

user: Srs? A Hamilton ref?

goreboy: jus call me already darl

And you did. Ronin's face was in front of you now. He didn't look so himself? That devil-may-care attitude was less noticeable, maybe for a regular person he would look the same, but you learned to notice small details in people's body language and expressions.

< Are you okay? >

Your hands moved smoothly, still slower than normally but you didn't have to be so careful about every sign.

"Jus the season."

He said with a shrug. His eyes showed exhaustion, and just how upset he was.

"Nah, I don't want to talk about that."

It's like he read your mind, you wanted to ask about it, but his answer made you drop it.

"What'dya wanted to talk about?"

He asked, titling his head to the side and looking at the mask in his hand, some fresh blood was on it.

< You just killed someone, haven't you? >

"And what if I did? That fucking pastor deserved to die anyway."

You heard it, there was anger laced under his act. He was angry, but it wasn't the pastor, no. It was something way deeper than that.

You were jealous of Ronin, or rather of anyone who could speak freely. Yeah, you're used to not talking, but expressing yourself through more than how your hands moved or what kind of expression you had was something you desired.

"Thinking how much you yearn to speak, hm darling?"

Ronin asked, his chin resting on his palm as he looked at you, His gaze was knowing, like he could read you like an opened book.

< I just want people to understand me better Ronin. >

Your hands were shaking a little bit, your emotions were guiding you to spill everything out.

< I don't want to hide myself anymore, but what if they won't understand? What if I won't be accepted? >

The rest of your killer friends were on your mind, you hated refusing the voice calls, you hated hiding this secret. Okay you were lying about being a killer, but this was something that you had to do in order to survive.

"Then spill your guts."

Ronin's voice broke through the barrier of your mind and brought you back.

"Jus spill it. If they like you they will understand, and if they don't accept then they're assholes. You're not the only disabled one here."

You could guess who he was talking about. A sigh left your lips. He was right.

< Thank you Ronin, I hope that you will be willing to tell me whatever you're dealing with one day too. >

This call was short, but it was helpful. You saw a more raw side of Ronin and he helped you make up your mind...

On the New Year's Eve you decided to confess your disability to the server, so maybe now they would understand why you were avoiding the calls so much.

user: Hey guys. I wanted to tell you all something. I can't hide it anymore. The reason why I never agreed to the voice calls is because I am mute. I'm sorry for not saying sooner, I had some unpleasant situations with people after my confession.

You sent the message and in nerves started to look at other chats to see if you didn't miss any messages... Then the first ! showed up next to #main and you had to click it.

goreboy: they're not lying folks

Well at least Ronin took your side here.

K9: I understand.

Ah yes, the simple answer from V, no excitement or disappointment, just a simple sign of acceptance coming from the vigilante.

Angelic: I'm happy to know that you trust us enough to share this <3

After three more encouraging messages you broke down, tears running down your cheeks. It was the first time anyone has shown you this much acceptance and encouragement. Hell, they even apologised for pushing you so much. You wanted to thank them so much, but your vision was too blurry to type.

You calmed down after a while, the first thing you noticed was an unread message from Ronin in your chat with him.

goreboy: see? told Ya they would accept.

You smiled at the message and replied.

user: Thanks Ronin, I mean it.

goreboy: anything for you darling

His answered got you to roll your eyes and smile a little. What an annoyingly sweet asshole he was.

Headcanons <3

Ronin will rile you up, he wants to see your expressions and body language change. Maybe he can't hear you but he will for sure watch and read you.

If you use a notebook to communicate he will take your pens away and nudge your head with it, a proud grin stuck to his face.

If someone acts like an asshole to you because of your disability he sure is ready to send their heads flying. "They can't speak, but I fucking will."

He learned sign language since the moment he found out that you're mute, but he is still not perfect with it, to make his life easier you agreed to make some signs just for the two of you.

Since you can't use words, you use different way of showing Ronin your care and love, his favourite is touch - him being touch starved.

He would never push you into learning saying any words, be it his name or anything else, he knows that it's a struggle and he won't put you through that.

I hope you liked it <3

Sorry for not updating as much :(

Love you pookies <33

- N ;p

[nappingnai]

need me a freak like ronin from killer chat...sigh...

[nappingnai]

careful messing with the devil ⛓️🥀

-Ronin from Killer Chat

The moment I finished playing this game I knew I had to draw Ronin omg like #look at this man I’m obsessed

Also I’m glad that fanart was my first finished piece from Clip Studio Paint

I’m still learning how to use the tools but I’m so proud already

[nappingnai]

🌻 Can't we have just a few more days together? 🌻

Beyond the Bet, our brand new A Date with Death DLC, is here! 💀✨

💜 4 new endings (3 good and 1 bad, oooo!) 💜 5 new days (continuing on from a brand new day 6!) 💜 The same old babygirl (Casper will be Casper)

Available now on Steam and itchio—it's time to dive back into your favorite babygirl teasing simulator ⤵️

[nappingnai]

24 hours until Beyond the Bet releases??? It's more likely than you think...

[nappingnai]

so. adwd dlc tomorrow.

[nappingnai]

Wishlist Killer Chat! Definitive Edition on Steam Now! 🔪

hello rotterlings!

we want to make KC! even bigger and bloodier in 2025, and have so many exciting stories we want to tell.

thanks to all your support and everyone’s interest in the survey we sent, we are officially planning a kickstarter for Killer Chat!: Definitive Edition early next year!

this version will significantly expand on the game’s content with brand new storylines and more time to spend with your fave serial killer(s) <33

how ambitious we can be will depend on your support 🙏

help us to make Killer Chat! the best it can be by sharing the steam page with your friends, reposting our social media posts and wishlisting now! your support helps us massively :D

more updates on the kickstarter launch coming soon!

and look out for more surprises… 👀

with love, rosesrot and team :D

[nappingnai]

A date with Death CG textposts~

[nappingnai]

[nappingnai]

I’ve posted it at other platforms before! But just for the purposes of of it being here, have a Grim Reaper.

[nappingnai]

Last night I finally played this masterpiece 👌👌

[nappingnai]

❤️

[nappingnai]

i cheered

five days until new a date with death 💃💃💃

[nappingnai]

can you do kc x a silly reader?? like one that is overall very unhinged and out of pocket and filled to the brim with the silly :3

Sure :3

Silly reader x KC

Tw. Very silly and goofy reader ><

Ever since you joined the server, you proved yourself to be quite the silly goof. In voice calls you would drop some unhinged lines or ideas.

"What if someone were to mix glitter in spilled blood? Like imagine a massacred head and glitter spilling from it with blood and brain." You said suddenly after Ronin dropped his usual cocky remark towards Angel.

At first there was silence, something you experienced many times, the killers have to register your words before they can answer.

Next thing you know, Misaki is bursting out, laughing and trying to catch their breath. "Oh fuck, you're so stupid MC." They almost choked while they were laughing.

"Your ideas are certainly... Something ." V said and sighed. "Hitmeup please drink some water." He said to Misaki who was still coughing.

"Woah darlin', the more things you say the more interesting your ideas become. Maybe I should test it out for you?" Ronin chuckled darkly. "Or maybe you could do that Angel? Glitter is your thing after all."

"Oh, fuck off Ronin." Angel sighed and you could swear that she rolled her eyes even if you didn't see her. "That's a very creative idea MC, can't wait to hear more." She chuckled warmly, her voice as sweet as ever.

Sometimes the server members just wake up to a spam of memes in the media channel from you just because you felt like it.

One time you even sent a stick man drawing of Ronin as JD from Heathers the Musical. Everyone, excluding Ronin, was cracking up at the drawing.

<@Angelic>: OMG I love you @MC please this is perfect

<@goreboy>: do you Want Me to use my Crowbar on Ya @MC? you too Angel.

<@MC>: Ronin, accept it. You're him and he's you.

Another time you decided to start the "hear me out cake" with the killers... Your answers were something.

"What do you mean by 'the letter A' dude?!" Luca asked after you sent a picture of said letter under the picture of a random cake.

"What do you mean? It gives off hot vibes, like a hot popular girl, tell me you get it Misaki." You replied and moved the question to Misaki.

"I have zero fucking idea, but hey it's still better than what you sent in the previous round."

"What do you mean? The lizard guy from Star Butterfly was HOT!" You exclaimed. "You bunch have no taste."

The killers couldn't say that their time with you wasn't interesting. You were unhinged and blunt. You never thought about your words, you just said whatever you wanted even in the most inappropriate moments.

<@MC>: Guys I think that kids should be locked up like animals in zoo and experienced on, if they want to act like wild beasts.

<@_LUCA_IS_COOL_>: What the hell dude? We were talking about our plans for the holidays.

<@h1tneuppp>: Shhh, this is about to get interesting.

Ronin:

Your silly nature was interesting for him. You sometimes dropped random traumatic experiences from your life, or just said something very unhinged.

Ronin can't complain about being bored with you around. If he's not persuading you into killing, you will drag him around the town or take him for random expeditions because you can't sit in one place for longer than five seconds.

Sometimes Ronin will just stand next to you in silence while you're doing something crazy, examples:

"MC, darlin', what the fuck are you doing?" Ronin asked, his eyes showed just how confused he was. Well, who wouldn't be confused if they saw their partner chasing after leafs in a park.

"I'm trying to catch the prettiest one." You replied like it was the most normal and obvious answer. Ronin just nodded. He was in awe about how little care you showed whenever someone gave you the side eye.

Ronin left you alone in his house for twenty minutes, apparently there was a very special asshole going around town and Ronin just had to deal with him. When he returned home he knew that you would do something crazy (at least in your way), but he would never imagine walking in on you while you were trying to dress up his rat BlackJack in a mini version of his clothes.

"Baby, would you mind telling me, why the hell is my rat dressed like me?" Ronin leaned on the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Huh?" You turned around to look at him, the rat curled up in your hands. "Well, you're like a rat, and BlackJack is a smol version of Ronin." You giggled with a sinister glimmer in your eyes. Ronin shook his head and approached you, he placed a kiss to your forehead and took the animal from your hands. "You're so fuckin' adorable sometimes."

Whenever you actually killed someone, you sent a picture to the #killer_shit channel, your murders were especially peculiar. The bodies were mostly untouched, expect the corpse having either an extremely bloody wound so you could draw a hello kitty head around the body or some silly doodles curved into them.

<@goreboy>: Woah baby, your art skills are getting better.

You smiled at Ronin's response and then scoffed when he sent a picture of his new kill with a satanic symbol curved into it.

<@goreboy>: Not as good as mine tho.

Headcanons >w<

- Ronin loves listening to your ramblings, even if you're talking about the most stupid stuff ever. He usually plays with your hair and looking through his phone while you just yap his ear off.

- Sometimes when you two decide to do some romantic homicide, you're the most silly killer Ronin has ever seen, you're literally gluing sequins around the curvings that Ronin leaves on the body, once you ever did a whole glamour make up look on a guy who according to Ronin abused his trans daughter.

- You doodle Ronin as JD and yourself as Veronica Sawyer, you even told him that you two will cosplay them for the next Halloween and if he dares to disagree, he will wake up with a sea of glitter in his bed.

- "You're like a more hygienic raccoon babe." Ronin said after he caught you looking for a late night snack around his kitchen in the clothes you stole from him.

- "Ronin, let's kidnap a snake from the zoo." You said, it was the middle of the night, you and Ronin were relaxing after some intimate time. Ronin looked at you and laughed. "Wow babe, you really pick the best times for these things." His laugh deep and long, arm over his face as he brushed his hair back. "I fuckin' love it about you."

V:

V was dumbfounded by every single unhinged idea you shared with him. He didn't know if having any expectations had a point anymore. Whenever he thought that your ideas couldn't get even more unique, you came up with an even more creative ideas.

"V." You called as you ran towards him and ran in circles around him. You almost tripped, but V managed to catch you. He sighed and helped you stand.

"My love, please be more careful. He pinched his nose bridge for which you only giggled.

"Aw, it's fine V! You'll always catch me. Anyway-" And for the next ten minutes you were rambling about a new idea, V couldn't even follow your voice. He was just too amazed by how many things your mind could think of at once.

Even if he couldn't wrap his mind around your way of thinking, V was happy knowing that your soul was pure, you wouldn't kill people ruthlessly, you didn't even think about that. But sometimes he tends to question your innocence, whenever he tells you about a new bastard he has to eliminate, you turn around with a wide smile and in the sweetest voice known to man you were giving him an idea of how he should get rid of that pest.

"My love, your ideas are positively terrifying. Maybe i should try it out for you on that rotten beast." He placed a kiss to your knuckles with a proud smile and a warm look in his eyes.

Headcanons X3

- V enjoys it when you're playing with his hair, putting it up or just twisting it around your fingers, while you're just talking about the silly ideas.

- "V, let's go and buy some cute outfits for your animals." You said while you were watching the bird V named after you. "Love, I want to remind you that most of my animals are dangerous and feed on humans." He replied with a slight hint of a smile. "But they also deserve something cute to wear." You exclaimed, it earned you a chuckle from him and a kiss on the lips. "Fine, fine. We can try finding something cute for them."

- V has to carry the first aid kit with himself whenever the two of you are outside. You have a tendency to run around carelessly, climb treat when you see something stuck on one. Most of these adventures end up with a scraped knee or a small injury that V has to clean up. "Please, be more careful." He says, knowing that you will do the same thing again.

- Sometimes when V wakes up and goes to the bathroom to get ready for the day, he sees how his hair magically happened to have a lot of colorful and cute hair-clips in them. And you just so happen to be right next to the bathroom door and trying your hardest to hold back the giggle. For V that start of a day is just perfect, with his partner in a good mood and right next to him.

Misaki:

Misaki fucks with your silly and unhinged nature. They adore it, and the way your eyes light up when you see jut how invested she is.

You take their hand and drag them around Tokio, you're totally lost and she just chooses to let you try and find your way. When you give up with a big sad pout on your face, they kiss you and take you for a piggyback.

"Don't worry pookie bear, I know my way around town." They say with a confident smirk and you just chuckle.

"Wow, you're my hero Misaki."

When Misaki spams your DMs with how panicked they are about the next assassination, you will send your selfie with you pointing on your lips.

<@MC>: Is this motivating enough?

<@h1tmeupp>: Babe omw to be done with this shit and kiss that stupidly sweet lips of yours.

<@MC>: Waiting ;p

Misaki loves it when you're stealing their clothes and return them with a small new added mark - a painted flower here, a sewed in patch of an anime character that you like there. They will wear that piece of clothing like it's something given by gods and will make sure to brag about you to the server and their parents.

Headcanons >:D

- You will call Misaki in the middle of the night because you just came up with a new theory about your favourite media and she just ha to listen to your yap session.

- Your nicknames for Misaki are just chef's kiss, some of their favourites: Cutie patootie, lil sniper mask, alpha sigma, babyperson.

- When Misaki doesn't reply because they're asleep or buy you will flood their dms with memes or sad cat pictures,

- You will join in on Misaki's weak tries to rizz up V, you know that it's a joke and you find it extremely funny.

- When you're about to return to your country from visiting Misaki, you will steal their clothes and find a perfume matching their scent, and she will take your clothes and your perfume.

Angel:

Angel is fascinated by you, and your ways of making fun of Ronin but still not sounding like a total asshole. You will always make sure to keep your remarks lighthearted and keep the relationship between you and Angel's ex boyfriend and currently closest friend chill.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Angel asks, you were standing in front of her and applying some make up on her.

"Nooo, I'm not done yet." You reply and move the lipstick on her lips. "Ta! Dah!" You said and held the mirror in front of her face. Angel opened her eyes and gasped, then she laughed and looked at you with a loving warmth in her gaze.

"You wanted to make me look like Jennifer?" She asked.

"Yeah! You called her hot, and I wanted to check if my skills are as good as think they are." You say with a proud smirk. Angel stands up and kissed you.

"I love it, but we do need to work on your skills cariño."

When Angel found a new manager, you and Ronin were ready to throw hands. Well you took action in your own hands and left them a small note in their bag "Hurt Maria and I will break your spine." It would be very threatening. if you didn't use a colorful pencil with glitter in it.

Headcanons <3

- Angel enjoys laying in bed with you, snuggled up to you as you discuss her new video or some of your interests. She feels so close to you, these moments are perfect.

- Whenever Angel has a taught day at work you will go and basically kidnap her, you carry her bridal style to the nearest cafe and keep her away from watching her phone. Sometimes she may seem irritated with it, but you will kiss her or hold her close and this irritation disappears.

- One day Angel found her pink gun in the living room with some doodles and sweet messages all over it. You came into the room and snatched the gun from her.

"I'm not done yet." You exclaimed and hid the gun behind your back.

"Awh, but I want to see it." She gave you a pout and you just gave in.

- For Halloween you dressed up as Ronin and gave Angel a full of one-person-show imitation of him. Angel can't hold back her laughter and holds her aching stomach.

"Oh, I love you." She wiped a tear away from her eye. "You're so amazing love."

[nappingnai]

the fucking scar headcanon i just fell onto my knees oh my God

Hey there! I would like to request a fic about Ronin and a trans!fem reader who is just discovering herself! I love your fanfics please feed me with them 😭😭

AHHH THANK YOU!-Here's a fic for Ronin x Trans!Fem! Reader!

Contains One-shot! Head canons!

You sat on the worn-out couch in Ronin's apartment, your fingers absently tracing the seams of your jeans. A soft hum from his kitchen meant he was making coffee, but your mind was far from the scent of brewing beans. The mirror in the hallway had caught your reflection on the way in, and all you could see was a version of yourself that didn’t feel right anymore. You were discovering parts of yourself that were beautiful, and terrifying. But you hadn’t told Ronin yet—hadn’t found the courage to share that part of yourself. What if he didn’t understand?

The sound of footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. Ronin walked in, holding two mugs, his usual sarcastic smirk softened into something less guarded as he passed you a cup. His plum-colored hair fell messily from beneath his beanie, and his usual maroon hoodie hung off his frame. There was always something effortlessly cool about him, a kind of chaotic confidence that made you feel safe, even in your most vulnerable moments.

"You're quiet today," he noted, settling beside you, his arm slung lazily across the back of the couch. "Something up?"

You took a sip of the coffee, its warmth not quite reaching the chill in your chest. Your hands trembled slightly as you placed the mug down. This was it. You had to say something.

“Say it out loud.” His voice cuts through the hum. He doesn’t look up from the bike, but his tone is casual, almost lazy. Like he’s waiting to see if you’ll catch on.

You squirm on the counter, your fingers nervously tangling in the hem of your shirt. You’ve been trying to say it for weeks, the word forming on the tip of your tongue like a fragile bubble that bursts every time you get close.

“I... I think...” You stop, clenching your fists. God, why is this so hard?

"I... I've been thinking a lot about myself. About who I am," you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ronin's gaze flicked to you, sharper now. He didn't interrupt, just waited. You loved that about him—how he always gave you space, even when the tension hung thick in the air.

“C’mon, babe. Out with it. Ain’t like I’ll bite.” He tilts his head, mischief flickering in his maroon gaze. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

You groan, heat flushing your cheeks, but the teasing makes it easier to speak. He always does that—makes things feel easier without even trying.

"I’m trans," you blurted out, the words rushing forward before you could second-guess them. "I mean, I think I’m a girl. I’m still figuring things out, but I—" You faltered, your heart pounding. "I don’t know how to do this."

Ronin was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes watching you, unreadable. You worried you’d said too much, or not enough. The fear twisted in your gut, threatening to choke you. But then, Ronin reached out, gently taking your hand in his. His grip was firm, grounding.

"You’re not alone in this, you know," he said, voice low and steady. "I’ve been where you are. Hell, I'm still dealing with some of that shit myself."

You blinked, confusion swirling in your mind as you looked at him. His usual teasing tone was gone, replaced with something more raw, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen.

"I'm trans too," he continued, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. "Transmasc. Grew up in a small town, right in the middle of Bible Belt Hell. My family? They weren't exactly supportive." His lips twisted into a bitter smile. "They thought I was possessed or something. Called me the devil because of what I am. So, yeah... I get it."

Your heart clenched at his words. Ronin always carried an edge with him, something dark and dangerous, but now you understood the weight behind it. He wasn’t just a serial killer with a crooked smile and a penchant for blood. He was a person who had been broken by people who should have loved him.

"I’m sorry," you whispered.

"Don’t be," he shrugged, but there was a tightness in his voice. "I learned to live with it. Got out of there as soon as I could. But the scars stay, you know? Even when you run."

You squeezed his hand, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "It sounds like you’ve been through hell."

He chuckled darkly. "Hell’s got nothing on a small town full of zealots."

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the weight of shared trauma hanging between you. But it wasn’t suffocating. It was grounding. Ronin knew what it was like to feel out of place, to fight for who you are against a world that wants you to be anything but.

"I want to help you with this," he said after a while, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your skin. "Whatever you need—clothes, makeup, whatever the fuck you want to do—I’ll be there. You don’t have to figure it all out at once. And don’t worry about messing up or feeling lost. I’m not going anywhere."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away, embarrassed by how emotional you’d become. But Ronin didn’t mock you, didn’t tease. Instead, he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a rare show of tenderness.

"I didn’t know how to say it before," you mumbled into his hoodie, your voice thick with tears. "I was scared."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," he murmured against the top of your head. "But you don’t need to be scared with me. We’re both devils, remember? We make our own rules."

You laughed through the tears, the sound weak but genuine. There was something oddly comforting in Ronin’s twisted worldview. He saw the world as broken, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t survive in it. You just had to be strong enough to take what you needed.

And with him by your side, you knew you could.

"Thanks, Ronin," you whispered, your fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

He smirked, pulling back slightly to look at you. "You’d probably be a lot less fun to corrupt."

You rolled your eyes, sniffling as you wiped the last of your tears. "You’re terrible."

“Ronin...”

“Eh, don’t pity me.” He waves you off, but the tension lingers. “The devil thing? I own it now. It’s better this way. 'Cause I stopped trying to be what everyone else wanted me to be. If they think I’m damned, good. At least I’m damned on my terms.”

His words settle over you like a strange kind of comfort—rough around the edges but warm at the core. He’s not saying it’ll be easy. But he’s saying it’ll be yours. And that matters more than you realized.

“So,” he says, leaning in closer with that mischievous glint back in his eyes. “What’re you gonna do about it, princess?”

The nickname makes your cheeks burn, and you can’t help but laugh, even though you’re still a mess inside. “Princess?”

“What, you don’t like it?” His grin widens, clearly enjoying your reaction. “I could call you worse things, y'know. Like ‘cutie.’ Or ‘darling.’ Or—”

You swat at him, laughing despite yourself. “Oh my god, stop.”

You realized tho.

Parts you liked to show. He saw the cracks, the doubt, the fear, and still, he was here.

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes before tears could fall. "That’s… That’s really unfair, you know," you said, voice trembling slightly.

He tilted his head, curious. "What is?"

"That you get to say stuff like that, and now I’m the one falling apart."

Ronin chuckled, low and warm, his hand still resting on your knee. "That’s what I do, sweetheart," he said, grinning now. "Break you down just enough to build you back up."

Something swelled in your chest—something tender, raw, and complicated. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so you did both, covering your face as the emotions hit you all at once.

"Hey, hey," Ronin murmured, and before you knew it, he was pulling you into his arms.

He wasn’t the best at hugs—his touch was hesitant at first, like he was afraid he might break you—but once you leaned into him, he held on tighter. The weight of him, solid and real, was grounding.

"You’re allowed to be messy," Ronin whispered into your hair. "It’s okay to not have all the answers right now."

You melted into him, the exhaustion of pretending you were okay catching up all at once. His hoodie smelled like smoke and motor oil, but it was warm, and it felt like home.

"I’m really scared," you admitted, voice small against his chest.

"I know," he whispered back. "But you’re not alone in this, okay? I’m right here. We’ll figure it out—together."

You sniffled again, clinging to him tighter. He didn’t promise it would be easy, or that it wouldn’t hurt. But he did promise one thing: that he wouldn’t let you do it alone.

Head canons with Ronin, as a transfem! Never knew it would come of help! I did discuss with a friend abt it

When you first confide in Ronin about exploring your gender identity, he doesn’t bat an eye. If anything, he grins.

“Welcome to the chaos, sweetheart,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to start calling you princess now.”

He’s cocky, yes, but not dismissive. Ronin understands what it’s like to figure yourself out—and that twisted empathy makes him weirdly gentle when you need it most.

If you’re nervous about trying new clothes or makeup, Ronin takes it upon himself to normalize it through shameless encouragement.

“You’re already hot. This? This just makes you unstoppable.”

When you try on your first dress or skirt, his eyes light up. And not in a mocking way—he’s genuinely impressed.

“You look dangerous in that, babe. Can’t believe I’m gonna have to fight people off now.”

Cue him smirking while you turn red. The fact that he can make you blush with a few words is a source of endless entertainment for him.

Ronin isn’t one for over-the-top compliments, but his actions speak louder. He shows affection in subtle ways—resting his hand on the small of your back, tucking hair behind your ear, and pressing small kisses to the top of your head.

“You good?” he’ll ask quietly, his arm draped over your shoulders like a shield.

On bad days, when dysphoria hits, Ronin doesn’t try to ‘fix’ you. Instead, he makes space for you to feel everything, without shame.

“If you wanna stay in bed, we stay in bed. If you wanna burn down the world… well, I’ll grab a lighter.”

He casually starts using feminine nicknames without making a big deal of it—princess, doll, babe. And when you realize how much it means to you, he just shrugs.

“It’s who you are. Don’t overthink

Ronin loves stealing your hoodies and oversized clothes. When you demand them back, he just grins. “Nah, you look better in my stuff anyway.” Then he hands you a maroon shirt—stained with motor oil, of course.

Whenever you feel dysphoric about your body, Ronin grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “Hey. This body? It’s yours, babe. Every inch of it.” He smiles, slow and genuine, brushing a hand over your hair. “And I happen to think it’s fuckin’ beautiful.”

There’s a shared sense of ease between the two of you—he never has to explain himself, and neither do you. Sometimes, you both just sit in comfortable silence, legs tangled on the couch, scrolling on your phones.

He’ll quietly mutter, “Kinda nice, huh? Bein’ around someone who gets it.” Then he bumps your shoulder with his, his eyes warm. "In love with our grotesques."

When the world feels too heavy, the two of you have quiet, honest conversations in bed.

“Y’ever just... feel like you were made wrong?” Ronin mumbles against your shoulder, his voice unusually vulnerable. But you both know the feeling, so you stay there, holding each other close. “Glad we’re in this mess together,” he adds, squeezing your hand. "Wouldn’t wanna be me with anyone else.

On some days, he’s binding. On others, he wears oversized shirts to let his body breathe—and on those days, “You look good, babe. Not just sayin’ it.” He lets you see the real warmth in his eyes. Then he tosses you one of his shirts. “Here. Oversized shirts cure all dysphoria. Science.

Some days, Ronin talks about the religious trauma that still clings to him, and he listens when you talk about your past struggles too. “Guess we’re both survivors of bullshit,” he says softly, threading his fingers through yours. “But look at us now, babe. Havin’ fun, makin’ trouble, livin’ the life those assholes said we couldn’t.”

After a kill, Ronin leaves little messages for you—sometimes in blood. “4EVER YOURS <3” scrawled beneath a victim’s handprint. When you call him out for being corny, he just grins. “Can’t help it, babe. Love makes me sappy. Only to you. Say it Angel, I'll throw you to the fishes."

If anyone disrespects you or misgenders you, they’re already dead—they just don’t know it yet. Ronin’s voice stays soft when he leans toward you, his grin wicked. “Wanna make this one slow or fast, babe? It’s your call.”

On hard days, when you feel out of sorts, Ronin’s by your side, offering comfort in his strange way. “You feelin’ shitty? Wanna smash somethin’?” He holds out your crowbar with a playful grin, then softens. “Or... we could lay low, watch Saw, and cuddle instead.” He pulls you into his arms before you can answer, murmuring, “You’re perfect either way, babe. Always.”

Ronin’s pets, Blackjack the rat and Pepperoni the snake, have surprisingly taken a liking to you. On lazy nights, the two of you lie on the couch, Blackjack curled in your lap and Pepperoni winding around your arm. Ronin watches with a smirk. "See, even the rotten ones love ya, princess." He rests his head on your shoulder. “Told ya you were special.”

One night, when the world feels too heavy, you both sit on the bathroom floor, comparing scars. You trace a line on his chest, and he kisses your knuckles in return. “Same story, different bodies,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over a scar of yours. “But we made it out, yeah? Together. That’s gotta count for somethin’.” There’s a deep sadness in his voice, but also gratitude—because even through all the pain, he’s thankful he found you.

[nappingnai]

I want ronin beaufort so bad