#Killer chat Angel

[elysiaheaven2]

𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝗠𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧!-𝐑𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥-(Part 2)

Words:7000

Genre: Dark Horror, Psychological Thriller, Gore, Obsession & Obsessive Love, Psychological Abuse, Crime & Thriller

(Reader is G.N) (A cannibal Reader, I don't support these! Just writing them!)

Summary :

Follows a twisted, sadistic you who presents themselves as a sweet baker but harbors a gruesome obsession with murder and cannibalism. Your appearance is grotesque, with stitches all over their body, and their bakery serves as a cover for a far darker purpose—using human flesh in your pastries. You met Angel who became your dear person. You get invited to the server,

The story is filled with graphic violence, disturbing themes of control, obsession.

Trigger Warnings and Content Warnings:

Violence and Gore: The content features explicit descriptions of violent actions, including graphic depictions of murder, dismemberment, and physical injury. The themes of torture and the pleasure derived from violence are present throughout.

Mental Health and Obsessive Behavior: There are elements of unhealthy obsession, possessiveness, and manipulation, particularly in the relationships between the characters. Themes of emotional trauma, self-doubt, and psychological instability are explored.

Cannibalism: References to cannibalism are present, with detailed discussions of cutting, eating, and dissection of bodies.

Sexual Themes: There are implied themes of dark and twisted romantic relationships, including non-consensual dynamics, manipulation, and obsession. This includes sexualized violence and threats.

Self-Harm: References to physical injury, mutilation, and self-inflicted harm, including the imagery of stitches coming undone and body parts falling off, are depicted.

Dark Romanticization: The portrayal of relationships is toxic, with power imbalances, manipulation, and destructive behavior.

Death and Murder: Graphic depictions of death, including the murder of both fictional and real people, are central to the narrative. The thrill and pleasure derived from killing are explored.

Emotional Abuse: Themes of manipulation, psychological control, and emotional manipulation are present in the interactions between the characters.

Disturbing Imagery and Themes: Content involving body horror, the macabre, and disturbing imagery related to the human form is featured.

Please proceed with caution if these triggers could cause distress. If you experience any discomfort during our exchange, feel free to pause or end the roleplay at your discretion.

EXTRA: Made a playlist!

Time moved fast, and now it was a new year—2025. February 14. Valentine’s Day.

Your hands worked diligently, filling orders at the shop, the sweet and savory scents of baked goods filling the air. But even while working, your laptop stayed open, screen glowing with the server’s chat. You couldn’t help but check in—it was your little slice of chaos.

You liked the server.

You liked Angel.

You wanted to eat Ronin.

Cute. Very cute.

<Zombie>: Quit hogging her, you freak. Omg.

The irritation bubbled up. That bastard Ronin always had a way of making Angel feel... foolish. You didn’t like it.

<goreboy>: My love runs deeper than wells and goes halfway into Hell. What can I say? I’m irresistible.

<Angelic>: @goreboy You’re so...

<Zombie>: I wanna eat him. Angel, can I? Though, honestly, I have no idea how you managed to bag Angel, Ronin.

<goreboy>: Ah Well there's this thing called Loneliness and also Hey Ronin's Right There.

You couldn't shake the way Ronin's words stuck with you, lingering like the sour aftertaste of bad wine. Without much thought, your fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up his DMs.

<Zombie (DMs): Are you okay?

It didn’t take long for him to respond.

<goreboy (DMs): Why, darling? Missing me already? Or are you checking in because I said something about being lonely?

You frowned at the screen, typing back quickly.

<Zombie (DMs): Why did you say that? Are you okay or not?

His reply came almost immediately, as if he was waiting for your reaction.

<goreboy (DMs): It’s called a joke, sweetheart. Ever heard of one? Why so serious?

You leaned back in your chair, exhaling through your nose before typing your next message.

<Zombie (DMs): Because ingredients shouldn’t feel bad.

There was a pause on his end. You could almost picture him smirking at the screen, intrigued and a little off-kilter.

<goreboy (DMs): Ingredients?

<Zombie (DMs): Yeah. If ingredients feel bad, they might lose their charm.

<goreboy (DMs): Oh, do tell me how that works, Chef Zombie.

<Zombie (DMs): It’s simple. Ingredients are more valuable when they’re warm, vibrant, full of life—or whatever you have that passes for it. If something rots too early, it’s a waste. That’s why I’m asking if you’re okay. Keeping you from spoiling.

You hit send, waiting for his reaction. When it came, it was both exactly what you expected and somehow surprising.

<goreboy (DMs): Keeping me warm, huh? What a tender little butcher you are. Almost makes me think you care.

You smirked to yourself, fingers poised to respond.

<Zombie (DMs): I don’t. I just hate waste.

His typing indicator flickered on and off for a moment before his reply came through.

<goreboy (DMs): Sure, sure, Zombie. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

You shifted in your seat, typing away as the tension of the conversation lingered in the back of your mind. Your fingers hovered for a moment before sending your next message to Ronin.

<Zombie (DMs): I still wanna eat you, by the way. Don’t get it twisted. I’m only helping you with the Angel stuff because it’s interesting. That’s all.

The response came quicker than expected, his tone practically dripping through the screen.

<goreboy (DMs): Oh, darling, you’ve made that abundantly clear. But go on, I’m curious. What’s got you so curious about Angel and me?

You huffed, staring at his reply before leaning forward.

<Zombie (DMs): I just… feel weird about it. How do you even care about her this much? It’s all so… I have so many thoughts about this, but it doesn’t make sense.

<goreboy (DMs): What’s there to make sense of? We’re friends, sweetheart. I look out for her. Simple as that.

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the urge to pick at his words.

<Zombie (DMs): No. It’s not that simple. It’s way more than that. You don’t get this kind of attachment for no reason. Spill. Why do you care about her this much? Why did you two even get together in the first place?

The typing indicator blinked on and off for a long moment, like he was deliberating how much he wanted to say.

<goreboy (DMs): You really wanna know? Alright, fine. But don’t say I never gave you anything.

There was a pause, and then the explanation began, his words surprisingly thoughtful, measured in a way you didn’t expect from someone like him.

<goreboy (DMs): Angel and I got together out of… proximity. We were the only ones who really understood each other back then. The server was empty—just us for weeks. When it’s just you and another person, sparks happen, you know? It wasn’t love. It was convenience, loneliness. And she felt safe with me.

You raised an eyebrow at the admission, watching his next messages roll in.

<goreboy (DMs): Angel’s been through it. Men who don’t respect her, don’t listen. I’m not like them. Boundaries matter to me. I didn’t push her where she didn’t want to go. And yeah, me being trans helped her feel like she could trust me. Not like those other guys who see her as some prize. With me? She didn’t feel like that.

Another pause, and you could sense the weight in his words.

<goreboy (DMs): And for me? She reminded me of someone. Ther. My first love. Someone I… lost a long time ago. Angel isn’t them. She’ll never be them. But for a while, she felt close enough that I could pretend. We clicked because we were using each other, really. She was processing her feelings about men, and I was… processing Ther.

<Zombie (DMs): So what happened?

<goreboy (DMs): We figured it out. Realized we were leaning on each other for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t love—it was coping. And when that realization hit, we broke it off. But we stayed close. She’s my friend now. My girl, but not in that way. Not anymore.

You stared at the screen, chewing over his words.

<Zombie (DMs): That’s… a lot. Still doesn’t explain why you’re all over her business.

<goreboy (DMs): Because I care, darling. She’s been through enough. She deserves someone in her corner. If I can be that person, then why not?

You leaned back, rereading the messages, feeling your lips twitch into a small, knowing smile.

<Zombie (DMs): You’re not completely rotten, are you?

<goreboy (DMs): What’s that supposed to mean?

<Zombie (DMs): Just that I’m noticing things. You care about her. Like, actually care. It’s not all for show.

There was a long pause before he finally replied.

<goreboy (DMs): Don’t get used to it, sweetheart.

You leaned forward, staring at the screen, his words replaying in your head. Something was bothering you, and curiosity burned hotter than caution.

<Zombie (DMs): So… you’re trans? Is that why?

A few moments passed before the typing indicator appeared.

<goreboy (DMs): Why what?

<Zombie (DMs): Why Angel felt safe with you.

The typing indicator flickered again, and then a response came.

<goreboy (DMs): Yeah. That’s why. She didn’t have to worry about the same things with me as she did with other men. Simple as that.

You mulled over his words, hesitating before diving into your next question.

<Zombie (DMs): And… who’s Ther?

There was a long silence before his reply.

<goreboy (DMs): ...

<Zombie (DMs): Someone close to you?

Another pause, and then:

<goreboy (DMs): You could say that.

You tilted your head, curious but careful, when suddenly he dropped something unexpected.

<goreboy (DMs): Ther and I used to eat apple crumble ice cream together. That was their favorite.

Your brows raised at the sudden shift, a personal detail woven into an otherwise guarded conversation.

<Zombie (DMs): I see.

<goreboy (DMs): Yeah. They said it was like eating a little piece of comfort. I thought it was too sweet, but I’d still share it with them.

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening at the quiet vulnerability in his words.

<Zombie (DMs): You cared about them a lot, didn’t you?

<goreboy (DMs): Didn’t I say it’s none of your business?

The sharpness in his tone was back, but it didn’t scare you off.

<Zombie (DMs): You’re more interesting when you let things slip, you know.

His reply came quickly this time.

<goreboy (DMs): Careful, sweetheart. You’re starting to sound too interested.

You smirked, but before you could tease him further, he typed again.

<goreboy (DMs): Yes, I’m the devil, like you say. The big bad Devil’s Butcher. You’ve said it yourself.

You hesitated, reading between the lines of his sudden bravado.

<Zombie (DMs): You mean you see yourself as the devil… because of where you grew up, don’t you?

He didn’t reply immediately, and you decided not to push. There was something raw in his sudden quiet, something that felt like an unspoken confirmation.

<Zombie (DMs): I get it. You don’t have to say it.

The typing indicator returned one last time.

<goreboy (DMs): Good. Don’t pry too much, darling. You’re already pushing your luck.

<Zombie (DMs): Ugh, I had such a day today. This guy was so sufferable.

<goreboy (DMs): Sufferable? Don’t you mean insufferable?

<Zombie (DMs): Nope. Sufferable. As in, he suffered. A lot. He wouldn’t stop whining—‘please, don’t do this, I’ll do anything, blah blah blah.’

<goreboy (DMs): Ah, one of those types. No appreciation for artistry.

<Zombie (DMs): Exactly! And, oh my god, he stank. Like stinky-stank levels. The guy smelled like he’d been dead before I even got to him.

<goreboy (DMs): Rotten ones are the worst. Did you at least finish the job, or are you venting halfway through?

<Zombie (DMs): Finished it. Trust me, I was doing the world a favor. The stench is just lingering in my head. Gross.

<goreboy (DMs): You’re complaining to me about stench? Sweetheart, I’ve gutted guys whose insides looked like a meat stew left out in the sun. Rotting doesn’t even begin to cover it.

<Zombie (DMs): Okay, but that’s your thing. You’re like... “Rotten Meat Aesthetic.” I don’t want it lingering in my place. He even got blood on my favorite knife—like, so much.

<goreboy (DMs): The favorite knife? Damn. That’s personal. What’d he do to deserve such VIP treatment?

You smirked, thinking about the events of the day.

<Zombie (DMs): He is a ex fan of Angel. He was one of the idiots hating on her. Big mistake.

There was a pause before his reply.

<goreboy (DMs): ...You didn’t tell her, did you?

<Zombie (DMs): Of course not. It’d ruin the fun. Besides, she doesn’t need to know how far I’ll go to keep her safe.

<goreboy (DMs): Hah. Protective and possessive. I almost wanna say “cute,” but you might take it as a compliment.

<Zombie (DMs): It is a compliment. You can say it.

<goreboy (DMs): Dream on.

You laughed softly to yourself, satisfied with how the day had turned out, even if the guy’s smell was still a distant memory. You leaned back in your chair, staring at the chat.

<Zombie (DMs): Anyway, today’s work is done. I’m taking a shower and purging the stink out of my life.

<goreboy (DMs): Enjoy your little ritual, darling. And don’t forget—next time, keep the rotten ones to a minimum.

<Zombie (DMs): Noted. But you know I won’t.

Angel dmed you next, the sweet sinner!

<Angelic (DMs): Hey, did you catch my interview today?

<Zombie (DMs): Of course I did. I always do.

<Angelic (DMs): Haha, you never miss anything, huh? It’s like you’re always watching... a lot.

Your fingers paused over the keyboard before you responded.

<Zombie (DMs): It’s not like that. I just... want to make sure you’re safe. That’s all.

There was a moment of hesitation in her next reply.

<Angelic (DMs): ...Safe? From what?

<Zombie (DMs): From everything. The world is ugly, Angel. Cruel and dangerous. But you... you’re not like that. You’re not ugly. You’re pure, like something out of a dream. Perfect, even.

Her reply took longer than usual this time.

<Angelic (DMs): ...Okay, that’s a lot. You sound... really intense.

<Zombie (DMs): You don’t get it. You’re a miracle in this broken world. Something to be protected, cherished. A god walking among us.

<Angelic (DMs): Stop it, Zombie. Seriously. I’m just... a person. A human. With flaws. 💔

Your expression softened at her response, but your obsession wouldn’t let go.

<Zombie (DMs): You might think that, but you’re wrong. I see what others don’t. You’re not just a human to me, Angel. You’re the light in the dark. The reason the rest of us keep going.

<Angelic (DMs): I don’t even know what to say to that. You’re too much sometimes.

You stared at her message, debating how to respond. For now, you decided to leave it, letting your words linger like a prayer on her screen.

[Angelicc] Also, also, another thing—THE INTERVIEW asked me about my manager??? She totally hated Finian for some reason. It was surreal, because I didn’t even know THEY knew Finian personally. Didn’t make it into the final writeup, but wow.

[Zombie] He sounds like a bad manager, Angel.

[Angelicc] Ahh, he really isn’t! Honestly. Finian’s a bit... demanding, but everyone in the industry is. You know how it is. ... I don’t know what to think about him, though, to be honest. Like, he’s not a good guy, I guess? She was probably right about that. But he’s not the worst, you know? Compared to the bottom-of-the-barrel men I’ve dealt with before... Whatever. I don’t want to dwell on it.

Anyway!!! Do YOU have anything to tell me?

<Zombie> [08:44] I hate your manager.

<Angelic> [08:44] What? Why?

<Zombie> [08:45] I want to take care of it if he’s scaring you.

<Angelic> [08:45] No! Don’t even think about it. Finian is fine. Don’t do anything... please.

<Zombie> [08:46] ...

<Zombie> [08:47] Why are you so selfless?

<Angelic> [08:47] ...

<Angelic> [08:48] ...What are you doing right now?

Her sudden question, her obvious attempt to change the topic, made your blood simmer, but you forced the anger down.

<Zombie> [08:49] I’m... making something.

Your words felt sharp, clipped, but she didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she chose not

<Zombie> [08:50] He’s so fucking shit. He sounds like an ass. Why are you like this, Angel? Why do you put up with him?

<Angelic> [08:50] Excuse me?

<Zombie> [08:51] You deserve better than some demanding jerk who doesn’t even treat you right. Why do you always let people like him stick around?

<Angelic> [08:52] You don’t know anything about him! Or me! Finian isn’t perfect, but he’s not the worst person in the world either. I’ve had to deal with way worse. HAVE YOU SEEN THE MEN I KILLED?

<Zombie> [08:53] That’s the problem, Angel. You settle. You just accept that people treat you like garbage because you’ve dealt with worse before. Don’t you see how messed up that is?

<Angelic> [08:54] You don’t get to tell me how to live my life! You’re not me. You don’t understand the industry, the pressure, or anything I’ve been through. You’re just... acting like you know everything when you don’t.

<Zombie> [08:55] I don’t have to understand everything to see you deserve more than this. You’re not some charity case for assholes who don’t appreciate you.

<Angelic> [08:56] Stop it! Just stop! Why are you acting like this?

<Zombie> [08:57] Because I care about you.

The words hung in the air—or rather, the digital void between you. You stared at your screen, waiting for her to reply, your hands twitching with the urge to type more, to explain yourself, to argue more if needed.

<Angelic> [08:59] ...I don’t want to fight with you.

The fight drained out of you in an instant. Her words were soft but firm, enough to make you bite back your next sentence.

<Zombie> [09:00] I don’t want to fight either...

There was a long pause. The silence on her end was deafening.

<Angelic> [09:02] I just want things to stay the way they are. Please.

You clenched your jaw. Of course, she did. She always wanted peace, even at her own expense.

<Zombie> [09:03] ...Fine.

You stared at the blank screen, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter until something in you snapped. Literally.

Your right eye popped out of its socket, dangling grotesquely against your cheek. You groaned in frustration, not pain—it wasn’t new. You grabbed the slippery orb with trembling hands, shoved it back in place, and blinked a few times to get it to stay.

But as you reached for the keyboard, your left index finger decided it had had enough, cracking off at the knuckle and clattering onto the desk with a wet thud.

“God damn it,” you muttered through clenched teeth, your voice shaking.

You picked up the detached digit, the sinew dangling like some grotesque string of tinsel, and shoved it back into place. Blood, dark and congealed, seeped through the seams as you gritted your teeth and pressed it back into position. It stuck, for now.

And then the tears came.

Hot, furious, and stinging, they rolled down your cheeks as you slammed a fist against the table, your body trembling with emotion. "Why do I care so much about her?" you whispered hoarsely, the words barely audible over your own ragged breathing. "Why does she have to be so... her?"

You thought of Angel, her ethereal presence, her voice, her light that seemed so untouchable yet so tempting. You wanted to keep her safe, to protect her, to worship her like the god she could never see herself as. But she didn't want it. She wanted normalcy.

And then there was Ronin.

Your mind reeled at the thought of him—chaotic, alluring, dangerous. A perfect mess of a man who didn’t hide his rot but flaunted it, wore it like a crown. You hated how much you needed to see him split open, to peer inside and find out if his heart was truly rotten... or if there was something beautiful hidden in the decay.

You leaned back, staring at your hands, now bloodied and trembling.

"Maybe..." you murmured to the empty room, your voice hollow. "If I just choose one, I could feel something real again. Maybe my heart could... work."

The room was silent except for your uneven breathing. The urge clawed at you, relentless, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You wanted to feel.

Your trembling hands moved almost on their own, reaching for the scalpel you'd been toying with earlier. Slowly, deliberately, you pressed the blade against your chest. The first cut was shallow, testing the resistance of your skin, but the next was deeper—sharp enough to split the flesh. Blood oozed out, warm and dark, staining your clothes and pooling in your lap.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

The pain didn’t matter; it was almost soothing, grounding you as your trembling fingers dug into the split. You peeled back the layers of skin, the grotesque sound of tearing flesh filling the room as you exposed the cage of your ribs.

With a manic determination, you pried them apart, your blood-slicked hands reaching inside, feeling the erratic thrum of your heart.

And then, there it was—pulsing, trembling, weak. A pathetic thing, wrapped in sinew and veins, yet still stubbornly beating.

You stared at it, blood smeared across your face, tears mixing with the mess. "You’re broken," you whispered, voice trembling. "You don’t work right. You don’t feel right."

Your lips curled into a crazed smile as your fingers tightened around the organ. "Maybe one of them could fix you. Stitch you up. Make you whole."

You giggled, your chest open and raw, your blood-smeared face glowing with unhinged delight.

"I’ll give you to someone," you cooed to your heart as if it could hear you. "Ronin, with his twisted grin, could carve you into something new. Or Angel... she’d be gentle, wouldn’t she? She’d hold you like you mattered."

You brought the organ closer to your face, smiling down at it with a strange sort of adoration.

"Maybe soon..." you whispered, licking your blood-stained lips. "Maybe soon, I’ll get fixed. Maybe I’ll feel love."

You stared at the screen, the words glowing in the dim light of your room.

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> "Yo, Zombie, time to pick a valentine! Let’s goooo!"

"Yes! You totally deserve one, just for today. You’ve worked so hard, you’ve made the server so much better... and honestly, it’s because of you that Luca and I are together. 🩷"

You blinked, rereading their messages. Your hands hovered over the keyboard, uncertain.

"It’s fine. I don’t really..."

Your fingers froze as the chat continued to flood.

"Awww, c’mon! Don’t be shy!"

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> "Yeah, like, for real! You’re cool as hell, Zombie, and you’ve been here for all of us. You deserve some love too."

It was strange, reading their words. You were used to the chaos, the teasing, the blood-soaked banter. But this? This felt different. Warmer. Softer.

For a moment, your chest ached—not from the self-inflicted wound, but from... something else.

You typed slowly, hesitantly.

<Zombie> "...You guys are good friends. I like you two. Thanks."

The chat erupted in affectionate chaos.

<Felicite> "🥺 Stop, you’re gonna make me cry! Zombieeee, you’re too sweet!"

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> "FR! You’re the MVP of this whole server. But, like, seriously. Pick someone for today. A Valentine’s Day partner! Even if it’s just for fun."

You sat back, staring at the screen. Valentine’s Day... the idea of choosing someone felt odd. But at the same time, you didn’t hate it.

Your eyes darted between the screen and the chaotic server chat, heart pounding as your fingers hesitated over the keyboard. Everyone had been throwing suggestions your way, their teasing messages blurring into a cacophony of emojis and pings.

But just as you were about to make a decision, a notification popped up.

<goreboy> has sent you a direct message.

You clicked it, curiosity piqued. Ronin’s profile picture, a grimy pixelated skull face, seemed to leer at you from the corner of the screen.

<goreboy> "Zombie. Darling. The honor of today is yours if you’d have me."

You blinked, rereading the message as your breath hitched.

<goreboy> "I know you wanna eat me, rip me apart, stitch me back together, all that poetic gore stuff. But for today? Let me give you a break. You deserve it."

Your pulse quickened. Ronin? Volunteering himself like this? Sure, he was bold, loud, and soaked in his own theatrical flair, but this was... different. There was a softness in his words, however masked it was by his usual devilish charm.

Your thoughts were interrupted by another ping.

<angelicc> has sent you a direct message.

You clicked the notification, your stomach twisting in anticipation. Angel’s profile picture—soft pastel pink greeted you, along with a message that made your chest tighten.

<angelicc> "Hey, um... this is so embarrassing to say, but... I like you. A lot."

You stared at the words, reading them over and over as if they might disappear if you blinked too hard.

<angelicc> "Maybe for today... you could pick me? Just for today, I mean! No pressure! But I really do like you, Zombie. I think you’re amazing. And... yeah, okay, I’ll stop typing now before I make it worse 🫣💞"

Your hands trembled. Angel liked you? Angel, the radiant center of the server, the one you admired, obsessed over, worshiped in your own strange way?

The room seemed to close in as you stared at the two messages. Two choices. Two people.

Ronin’s playful offer replayed in your mind—his self-aware humor masking something deeper. And then Angel’s shy confession, so unlike her usual confident self, made your heart ache.

You looked back at the server chat, where Felicite and Luca were still hyping you up, oblivious to the quiet storm brewing in your DMs.

<Felicite> "ZOMBIE YOU HAVE TO PICK SOMEONE, OMG, THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME!!!"

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> "WHO’S IT GONNA BE??? C’MON, ZOMBIE, DROP THE BOMB!!"

But the bomb wasn’t theirs to detonate. It was yours.

You typed slowly, first opening Ronin’s chat.

<ZOMBIE> "You’re offering yourself to me? I don’t know if you’re brave or just stupid. But I’ll think about it."

His response came almost immediately.

<goreboy> "Oh, darling, I’m both. And you love it."

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile before switching to Angel’s chat.

<ZOMBIE> "You like me? That’s... surprising. You’re everything good in this ugly world. I didn’t think you’d notice someone like me."

A few seconds passed before she replied.

<angelicc> "Of course I noticed you. You’re always there for me. I just... never had the courage to say anything until now. 🩷"

Your chest ached. How could you choose? Ronin, with his chaotic allure and promises of mayhem, or Angel, with her genuine warmth and the way she made the world seem less dark?

You stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The server was waiting. They were waiting.

It was up to you.

Your laughter bubbled out uncontrollably, raw and wild, as you caught sight of your reflection in the darkened screen. The stitches holding your mouth together had torn apart, crimson glistening against your pale skin as the metallic tang filled your mouth.

"Oh, sweet baking Christ," you hissed, reaching for your sewing kit with trembling, blood-streaked fingers. "Just... hold on."

Your message to both and was hurriedly typed with your free hand, the other already prepping the needle and thread.

"Wait. Mouth came apart. Gimme a sec."

As you carefully slid the needle through your torn lips, each pull of the thread made you wince and hiss through your teeth. But the pain was grounding—it forced your swirling thoughts into sharper focus. And oh, there were so many thoughts, a chaotic tangle of wants and plans and desperation.

Your fingers paused mid-stitch as your mind wandered.

Ronin. Being with him would be like walking the edge of a razor blade, teetering between obsession and chaos. You didn’t care about the love he offered, no. Love wasn’t why you were drawn to him. Ronin could give you something else—tools. He was a necessary ingredient in your recipe, the one who could help you deal with the poison festering in Angel’s life.

Her manager.

Your lips twitched in a half-smile, blood pooling at the corners as you resumed sewing. That thing—Finian—deserved to be gutted, flayed, ground into the dirt. You’d be doing Angel a favor, even if she didn’t see it that way.

But then there was Angel herself.

Her name alone was enough to make your hands tremble. She was a gift from some divine being you didn’t believe in, a beacon in your rotting, stitched-together world. You wanted her. Not in the way you wanted Ronin, with his chaos and danger, but with a reverence so pure it disgusted you. She was perfect, everything you weren’t—kind, radiant, clean.

And you?

You were stitched filth, a patchwork doll of sins and scars, barely held together by threads soaked in your own blood. Compared to her, you were nothing. Rotten shit, stitched into the mockery of a human.

Your hands stilled, the thread in your mouth taut and glistening with red. You looked down at the needle in your hand and laughed, quietly this time. What were you even doing? Choosing between Ronin and Angel? The thought was laughable. Someone like you didn’t deserve either of them.

But then you remembered how Angel’s shy confession had made your chest ache, how Ronin’s offer had sent a thrill through you. Both of them had made you feel. Something rare, something foreign. Something... alive.

Your stitched lips curled into a smile, glossy with fresh blood.

Maybe you didn’t deserve them. Maybe you were filth and sin stitched together.

But you were their filth.

And today, you’d choose. Not because you believed in love, but because one of them made you feel like, maybe—just maybe—you could stitch yourself into something whole.

Scenario: Choosing Ronin

You stared at the screen for what felt like hours, though it had only been seconds. Blood from your freshly stitched lips dried in sticky trails down your chin as you hovered over the chat window.

<ZOMBIE> "Alright, goreboy. You're my Valentine for today."

The server exploded in messages almost instantly.

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> "THE CHAOS IS IMMACULATE!"

<FELICITE> "Finally, the freaks unite. 🖤"

<angelicc> "...oh."

<goreboy> "HA! I knew it. You wanna eat me so bad, it’s pathetic. Prepare to be amazed, doll. Valentine’s with the Devil’s gonna blow your mind."

The response was instant.

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> "OMG ZOMBIE x GOREBOY 4EVER LMAO"

<angelicc> "... oh. Have fun, you two!!"

You paused, your eyes lingering on her single message. That tiny "oh" said so much, yet not enough. You told yourself it didn’t matter—Angel would understand, wouldn’t she? You needed this day, just one day to figure out how to work Ronin, how to get closer to your goal.

Your DM to Ronin lit up with a reply almost immediately.

<goreboy> "Knew you'd make the right choice. Let’s wreak havoc, darling."

Your heart raced, not from excitement, but from the sheer weight of the decision.

But something about Angel’s quiet reply stayed with you, even as you tried to focus on your decision.

<angelicc> "I’m happy for you, Z."

Happy. Sure. That’s what her words said, but her earlier hesitation... it clawed at your mind.

You opened her DM.

<ZOMBIE> "I don’t deserve you."

The reply came quickly, but it wasn’t what you expected.

<angelicc> "Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You’re wonderful in ways you don’t even see."

Your stitched lips curled into a smile, despite the lingering ache in your chest.

But for now, you’d play your part in this twisted Valentine’s Day.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before finally typing:

<ZOMBIE> "I don’t deserve you. Ronin’s gonna be perfect for what I need."

<angelicc> "... Perfect for what?"

You laughed softly, the sound dry and bitter even to your ears.

<ZOMBIE> "You wouldn’t get it. Don’t worry your pretty little head, Angel. You’re safe."

<ZOMBIE> "Special ingredient, huh? You wanna know what that is, Angel?"

You typed, fingers trembling as you stared at the screen, a sick grin curling across your face. There was something twisted about this, something that made you crave more.

You paused, the air thick with the anticipation of your words, before continuing.

<ZOMBIE> "Haha, you know, Ronin... He's so unique. I want to cut him, rip him open, see what makes him tick. It's fascinating. The way he’s always so cold, so deadly... I want to take it all, feel it in my hands. What makes him tick, what makes him care. I want him. I need him."

You felt the rush of blood to your head, your body shaking with a strange kind of hunger. You wanted him so badly, more than anything.

<Angelic> "Don’t hurt him... Please. I don’t want you to hurt him."

Her message popped up. You felt a slight twinge, but the thrill surged higher.

<ZOMBIE> "I won’t hurt him. Not yet..."

You let the words linger in the air, letting her anxiety curl around you like a pleasant warmth. You could practically hear her voice shaking. But it didn’t matter. None of it did.

<Angelic> "NO! If you hurt him, I swear, I will kill you."

Her words hit hard, sharp, like a dagger of emotion, but you couldn’t help but laugh. It was like a sick joke. You loved it.

<ZOMBIE> "You really care that much, huh?"

You leaned back, your heart racing, your eyes glinting in the glow of the screen. The laughter bubbled up in your throat, spilling out like venom.

<ZOMBIE> "You know what, Angel? I want that care. I want to feel it, like Ronin feels it. I want that bond, that connection..

<ZOMBIE> "You care about him a lot, huh? It's almost cute, the way you defend him..."

You laughed, a hollow sound that didn’t quite reach your heart. It felt like the words were slipping out of you, like they didn’t belong, but you couldn’t stop yourself. There was something about the way Angel always defended Ronin that made you sick with envy. It wasn’t the love—it was the care. The genuine, unrelenting care she had for him.

<Angelic> "Don’t even joke like that! If you hurt him, I swear to god—"

<ZOMBIE> "I won’t hurt him yet… but you know… he’s so unique, Angel."

You could feel the tension building up in your chest. The more you thought about Ronin, the more you wanted to sink your teeth into him, tear into him, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

<Angelic> "I said don’t hurt him!"

Her message was filled with desperation, her words frantic. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not right now. You wanted Ronin, wanted him like you wanted air to breathe. The intensity of your feelings made everything else fade into the background.

<ZOMBIE> "I want to feel that care you have, Angel. I want that for myself."

You could almost hear her breathing faster as your message went through. She didn’t understand. None of them did. They didn’t understand the way you needed to feel. How you needed Ronin. It wasn’t about the love they had for each other. No. You wanted to break that bond, tear it apart, because you wanted something for yourself.

<Angelic> "You’re… sick. What do you even want from him?"

<ZOMBIE> "Everything. I want him, Angel. And you know I can take him."

You watched as the message pinged through, feeling that same twisted satisfaction, like you had just told the truth no one dared to speak. Ronin was yours, and Angel would be the one to push you closer to getting him. You wanted to be the one who took him, made him feel something real, something that wasn’t about her.

The more you thought about it, the more you needed him. He was the missing piece, the special ingredient to fill the gaping hole inside you. You didn’t care about anything else. Ronin would be yours.

You open Ronin's dms...

Your fingers slam against the keyboard, your eyes wide as your heart beats wildly in your chest. It’s too much, too overwhelming—this rush of desire, this need that claws at your insides. You feel everything—anger, frustration, lust, hunger. It’s all mixed together in a sick, twisted cocktail, and you can't stop now. You can't hold back.

<ZOMBIE> "She opened my eyes... She opened my eyes, and I realized what I wanted... What I needed... YOU."

You laugh—a maniacal, uncontrollable cackle that echoes through the room. There’s no escaping it, no hiding from it anymore. The truth is out, raw and unfiltered.

<ZOMBIE> "HAHAHAH! I fucking want you, Ronin! I don’t care about anything else, just you... all of you. Everything that makes you what you are. I want it. I want to take it."

The laughter comes again, twisting into something darker, more desperate. There’s a fire in your chest, an inferno of obsession that won’t burn out.

<ZOMBIE> "You thought you could control this, huh? You thought you could keep me away from what I wanted... Well, guess what? It’s too late now. You opened the door, Ronin. You let me in."

You don’t care if you’ve crossed a line. There is no line anymore. There’s just you, and Ronin, and the way you want him. You feel yourself slipping, teetering on the edge of sanity.

<ZOMBIE> "HAHAHAH! I need you. You’re mine now. This is the only thing that’s real. The rest of this? It’s just chaos. Just noise. But you... you’re the answer. The only one who matters."

<GOREBOY> WTF... we didn't even do the Devil's tango yet, and you're already talking about marriage?

You feel a sharp jolt as you read his message, the words landing in your mind like a cold, twisted joke. The absurdity of it all, the strange feeling that’s been growing in your chest. You laugh—it's a dark, breathless laugh, the kind that only makes sense to you. You can practically feel Ronin's smirk through the screen, his words dripping with amusement.

<ZOMBIE> "What do you mean by that? What are you talking about?"

You type the question without thinking, your fingers trembling slightly. There’s a pit in your stomach, a strange mixture of anticipation and unease. What’s he implying? What game is he playing now?

<GOREBOY> You said you wanted me inside you, in such a unique way to confess your love, darling.

The words hit you like a punch, and you blink at the screen, confused for a split second.

<ZOMBIE> Correction, it’s a unique way of love in cannibalism, not whatever you’re thinking, Ronin.

You hit send, your fingers trembling a bit less now. There's something about the way this conversation flows—dangerous, raw, and thrilling. It’s a game, but you’ve already known that. The blood in your veins quickens.

<GOREBOY> Woah... so you do like me.

His response is as sharp as ever, laced with his usual dark humor. You smile to yourself, wondering if he even knows how much he’s drawn you in.

<ZOMBIE> Aren’t you scared? You seem so confident, like you’ve already decided what happens next.

You know his type too well. His arrogance, his darkness. But the moment you type it, the words feel almost too easy. Like he’s said them to you before, in some twisted dance neither of you is ready to stop.

<GOREBOY> I’ll kill you first.

A simple statement, but the weight of it lingers in the air like smoke. And yet, you can’t help but feel that pull. You know better. You’ve seen the edge he walks. But this? This is the kind of risk you crave.

<ZOMBIE> No... you’ll accept death when it comes to you. You’ve always played with life and death in every damn turn.

You type the words with a slow, sickening smile. You don’t need to say it aloud for him to understand. You get him. You understand the game he’s playing, and somehow... you’re willing to play along.

<ZOMBIE> What a unique man you are.

The words leave your lips like a prayer to something broken.

<GOREBOY> Incoming Video Call...

The notification flashes on your screen before you can even respond, and in an instant, you accept. His face appears, his familiar devilish grin still sharp, even through the digital divide. The call feels surreal—like a moment where everything shifts.

You smirk, leaning back as you keep your gaze fixed on him.

<ZOMBIE> I get it now. You wanted to spend this day with me, didn’t you? All so I wouldn’t get obsessed with Angel.

His laugh comes quickly, low and dark.

<GOREBOY> Oh? You’re catching on, darling. How sweet of you.

<ZOMBIE> I find her... a gift, that's all. You're the real deal, Ronin. Your plan worked. You manipulated me into you instead of her.

You lean forward, eyes glinting with dark amusement.

<ZOMBIE> Well, congratulations. Now according to you, I won’t hurt Angel... but I never planned to. You just signed your death certificate.

There’s a pause before Ronin's smirk falters ever so slightly. His eyes narrow, like he’s assessing whether you're bluffing or not. But in the depths of your stare, he sees something deeper—a truth that both unsettles and excites him. He knows this isn't over.

<GOREBOY> Heh, you really think that’s how it works, huh? Well, let’s see if you can follow through, darling.

Ronin leans closer to the camera, his sharp grin softening into something almost curious, though still laced with his usual mischief.

<GOREBOY> Wait, wait. You did promise to be my Valentine, didn’t you? So what’s the rush? Let’s hang out or something.

You blink, caught off guard by his sudden suggestion.

<ZOMBIE> Hang out? What does that even mean? You actually want to spend time with me?

He leans back in his chair, pretending to look bored, though the smirk doesn’t leave his face.

<GOREBOY> Call it whatever you want, darling. Just talk to me. Let’s talk about you.

The words hang in the air, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously, feeling the weight of his curiosity.

<ZOMBIE> My... tragic past?

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your phrasing.

<GOREBOY> Sure, let’s start there. Spill it.

You shake your head, looking away from the camera, your lips pressing into a firm line.

<ZOMBIE> Not a chance. Not unless you tell me about yours first.

His playful smirk wavers, replaced with a slight glare as he looks away from his screen.

<GOREBOY> Nope. Not happening.

The stalemate lingers, and you sigh dramatically, leaning back in your chair and waving your hand dismissively.

<ZOMBIE> Fine, then. Let’s not talk about it.

You reach for the mouse to end the call, but his voice stops you mid-click.

<GOREBOY> Wait! Damn it. Why are you so obsessed with this?

You tilt your head, your lips curling into a sly grin.

<ZOMBIE> Because I want to learn what you are. That’s why.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly annoyed yet intrigued.

<GOREBOY> You’re such a pain, you know that? Fine. What are you doing, anyway?

You glance down at your workspace, something halfway done in front of you.

<ZOMBIE> I’m... making something.

His brow furrows as he leans closer to the camera, trying to peer past you.

<GOREBOY> Making what? And don’t give me some cryptic crap.

You sigh, deciding to humor him for once.

<ZOMBIE> I’m trying something new. I’m not using... you know, human stuff. Just regular ingredients.

His laughter bursts out, sharp and sudden, making your screen shake slightly from his movement.

<GOREBOY> Wow. No human bits? I’m honored, darling. This for me?

<ZOMBIE> Guess you’ll have to keep talking to me to find out.

He groans but leans back, clearly entertained.

Ronin leans against the dimly lit backdrop of his room, the faint flicker of a cigarette glowing briefly in the frame. His sharp grin is lazy, his eyes narrowing in that way of his, always teetering between mockery and something deeper.

<ZOMBIE> So. What’s your tragedy?

Ronin leaned back in his chair, the screen lighting his face, his smirk still intact despite the weight of the conversation. His voice came through with a sarcastic lilt, the kind that dared you to press further.

"Shit, you want me to do the full villain monologue, huh? Fine, darlin'. We’ve got all day."

You crossed your arms, staring into the screen as if you could pierce through it and drag the truth out of him. "So, what’s the devil got to say?"

He scoffed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Dunno, whatever the fuck you want. I’m hell outta Angelwood. Stuck the pastor through his cross, murdered a dozen more. Gone through cities and danced devilry in ’em too."

"And nothing more than that?"

His eyes narrowed, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a split second. "That’s all there is to me."

You leaned closer to the camera, your voice dropping into something almost taunting. "That’s a story, not a tragedy. Hoped you wouldn’t notice."

He rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "You honest-to-God wanna hear it?"

"I asked for the truth for a reason."

For a moment, silence hung between you, his fingers drumming against his desk as he seemed to weigh his words.

"I had... someone... once," he started, his voice quieter now. "They were my past. My childhood everything. 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."

You felt a pang in your chest but pushed forward. "What happened?"

Ronin's laugh was hollow, bitter. "It’s a shitty repressed Christ-loving town. What d’you think happened? Ther’s gone. And I’m the devil becoming. Nothin’ less, nothin’ more."

"I’m sorry," you said softly.

His laugh turned sharp, cutting through your words. "Oh, sure. Cause it’s all your fault, right? 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."

You flinched at his sarcasm but stayed silent, letting him continue.

"Dunno. I’m—fucked, hell and back anyway. A little pity’s gonna save me?" He shook his head, his voice lowering to a near growl. "Doesn’t matter, anyhow. I am the devil."

"You’re not... really," you said after a beat.

"Oh, my Satanic symbols mean nothin’ to ya?" he shot back, his smirk creeping back into place.

You tilted your head, your voice calm but firm. "Says you’re possibly the Antichrist."

That made him laugh, a genuine sound this time, though it was still tinged with his usual edge. "That, I like. I chose it."

"You don’t have to do this," you said, your voice softer now.

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours through the screen, the devilish grin returning full force. "Pretend I’m larger-than-life, like I’m... the devil I am. That’s all I need."

Ronin’s smirk lingered, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something else—a shadow of discomfort or perhaps surprise. He tilted his head at you, his voice low and dripping with mockery. "You’re a smart-aleck, hah! I’m the devil, didn’t you get the memo?"

You shook your head, steady and firm despite the faint quiver in your voice. "No. Someone destroyed your heart."

He barked out a laugh, leaning back in his chair like you’d just told him the funniest joke of the year. "My aorta’s right here, can’tcha see? Here, I’ll open up my ribcage for ya. Have a peek."

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat as you imagined him doing exactly that—his hands digging into his chest, pulling apart skin and bone to reveal whatever tattered remains of a heart lay beneath. Your eyes watered, but you swallowed it down, keeping your gaze steady. "You buried your heart somewhere-not-here."

He stilled for a moment, the laughter dying on his lips, and he stared at you with an unreadable expression. "Buried it in Ridge Grave where the dead girls dance."

"You act like it’s easier to be the devil..." you began, leaning closer to the camera, your voice soft but pointed.

Ronin raised an eyebrow, his smirk flickering back to life, but there was something guarded in his eyes now. "Then be who you truly are. Isn’t that right, Ronin?"

His gaze darkened, and for once, he didn’t have a quick retort.

"You don’t have to deal with your hurt if you relish in it," you continued, your words cutting through the silence like a blade. "Your pain doesn’t hurt if it’s a tragedy."

The tension in the air was palpable as you stared at each other, the weight of unspoken truths hanging between you. You’d peeled back a layer of him he wasn’t ready to show, and yet, there it was, raw and undeniable.

He broke the silence first, his voice quieter this time, almost begrudging. "You think you understand me now, huh?"

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand you better than I thought I would."

Ronin’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked away for a brief moment before locking back onto yours. "You want me to rip my chest open, darlin’? Show you every little broken piece?"

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, your resolve wavered. But then you shook your head, steadying yourself. "No. Not like that."

He chuckled dryly, leaning forward again, his smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Good. Don’t need you gettin’ all weepy on me. That ain’t your style, is it?"

Your laughter bubbled up, cracked and uneven, tears streaming down your face as you clasped your hands together like a worshiper before an altar. The screen in front of you blurred from your crying, but you didn’t care. You wept like a god mourning their fallen creation, like an angel lamenting the sins of LUCIFER. And that Lucifer was staring back at you, silent, his smirk gone, his expression unreadable.

Tears streaked your face, catching the dim light in glistening trails, but your smile was wide, deranged, and trembling with something unholy—a perverse mixture of sorrow and glee.

"Oh, Ronin..." you whispered, your voice thick with a tremor that was neither pity nor joy but some intoxicating blend of the two. "Your past... it’s so sad—so utterly, devastatingly beautiful."

He didn’t respond. His sharp, unreadable eyes fixed on you, the faint flicker of discomfort returning. It was a rare moment of silence for him, and you reveled in it, filling the void with your own unraveling thoughts.

"You," you murmured, your voice trembling as you leaned closer to the camera, your fingers clasping tighter as if in worship. "You’re Lucifer... the fallen one, cast out not for sin but for love. For the ones who couldn’t be saved. Oh, you poor, tragic devil. You bet it all, didn’t you? Kill or be killed. Live or lose. That’s how you survive, isn’t it?"

Ronin’s mouth twitched, but no words came. The flicker of discomfort was replaced by something heavier—an oppressive weight that pressed down on the both of you, but you laughed through it, tears streaming freely.

"That’s your tragedy!" you wailed, almost euphoric in your revelation. "That’s what makes you so perfect! You’re the devil because it’s easier than being the broken boy who loved too much. You gamble with life and death because you don’t care about either anymore, do you? Oh, Ronin..."

You tilted your head, your smile splitting wider, your tears soaking the edges of your stitched lips. The strain caused some of the seams to pull loose, threads snapping audibly as a trickle of blood seeped out from the corner of your mouth. You didn’t wipe it away. It only added to the grotesque poetry of the moment.

"I feel so sorry for you," you cooed, your voice taking on a soft, almost maternal lilt that dripped with mock sincerity. "So sorry for the little devil who gave everything and got nothing back. You’re so... tragic."

Your voice dropped lower, almost a purr now, as you leaned closer still, your eyes glinting with something Ronin couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name. "That’s why, when I kill you, I’ll do it with love. I’ll take my knife, and I’ll slit your throat so gently, so reverently. And as your blood spills out, I’ll kiss the wounds, Ronin. I’ll kiss every little crack and break in you, like sewing a quilt of pain and poetry together. Won’t that be beautiful?"

Ronin’s jaw tightened, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no sound came. His eyes bore into yours, searching for... something. A reason? A weakness? He’d find none.

You leaned back, laughing again, the sound hollow and ringing like a bell in an empty chapel. "You’ll be my masterpiece. My magnum opus. The devil who wanted to be a god but ended up being neither. Oh, Ronin..."

Your voice softened, trembling with the weight of your twisted devotion. "You’ll die beautifully, you know? I’ll make sure of it. A thousand words wouldn’t be enough to describe the poetry of it. But until then..."

You reached up, brushing away the blood that had pooled at the corner of your lips, smearing it across your cheek like a painter with their palette. "Until then, I’ll savor every moment with you. Because someone like you, Ronin—someone so unique, so broken—deserves nothing less than to be adored before they’re destroyed."

Ronin finally spoke, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that might have been fear or anger—or perhaps, deep down, understanding.

"You’re insane," he muttered,

Ronin stared at you, eyes narrowed beneath the shadows of his mask. The dim light flickered in the distance, casting eerie glows on your twisted, bloodstained face. His fingers wrapped around his mask, as if he were holding onto something tethering him to this moment. The laughter in your voice was a thing of horror—wild, manic, and utterly unhinged.

“You kept your promise, darlin’,” he said, his voice low, dangerous, but there was a hint of something else. Something almost unreadable in the way he watched you—something that bordered on fascination.

You tilted your head at him, a glint of madness dancing in your eyes. You grinned, feeling the pull of your own twisted history churn within you, as if it had never been buried, never been forgotten.

"Now tell me yours..." Ronin’s tone was almost a challenge, but beneath the smirk, there was an edge of curiosity.

You met his gaze, almost too steady, too intense. The smile never left your lips, but something darker lingered behind it. You took a breath, the room falling silent as you shifted in your seat, every fiber of your being alight with the story you were about to share.

It wasn’t easy to tell—how could it be? But it wasn’t like you could stop now. The words were crawling out of your chest, clawing to be heard.

You began, your voice trembling, then steadying into something chilling, almost like a lullaby. "Two people... in love., who loved each other so much they decided to make a friend. They got a box. At first, it was harmless—just a way to hold their desires, their greed, their petty wants. But that changed... It became more."

You stopped for a moment, the weight of the story settling in. The air felt suffocating. "They started adding real things to it. Real body parts. Flesh. Bones. The idea was simple: 'Make a friend from scratch.'" You let the words linger, darkening the room with their implications.

"But it wasn’t enough, Ronin. Not enough at all. They kept putting pieces in, building a friend they could control, shape however they wanted. And then, they called it... 'The Secret Goldfish' But the thing is," you paused, your voice quivering as you spoke, "the friend... it wasn’t perfect. Not like they wanted."

A flicker of something crossed Ronin's face—something close to understanding, but you didn’t pause to check. You continued, your voice raw and unrelenting.

"They gave it to the next pair, hoping they'd be able to fix it, to make it better. They had a child together. But every time they tried, the child... melted away. The body was never stable, and the face, the name, the personality—it changed." You swallowed, your mind dizzy with the horrors of your own tale. "It was a curse. And instead of helping, they just kept... remaking it. They kept recycling the child. Trying to fix it, trying to perfect it in their eyes, until... until there was nothing left of it but fragments. Pieces of a broken soul."

You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling as you began to stitch again, the needle threading through your own skin, the movements almost absentminded. But you couldn’t stop now. You wouldn’t.

"They forced me, Ronin. They forced me to be perfect—to be their creation, their masterpiece. And they tore me apart, over and over again. I didn’t feel the pain anymore. It was just... nothing. The only thing I could remember was the smell of blood, and I loved it. I loved it."

Your voice grew almost feverish as you continued, your giggle coming out unnervingly soft. "And they wanted me to be this... pastel lover. Soft and sweet, like the others. But I couldn’t—no, I couldn’t! I wanted more, so much more. They made me bake, make things that I didn’t want to make... And it was always so empty. I couldn’t feel it, I couldn’t taste it, not like I wanted. It wasn’t right."

The laughter in your voice died down to something more chilling. "So, I... I killed them. I killed the ones who made me. The ones who tortured me. I killed them, and I threw their bodies away. I ate them, Ronin. I swallowed them whole, but... I hated it. It was disgusting. There was no worth for me in their flesh. No worth in them at all."

You leaned closer to the screen, your grin now a twisted, sadistic thing as you watched Ronin. The tears, the blood—everything blended into something chaotic, something horrifying.

"You think I’m broken, don’t you?" you whispered. "But it’s not that simple. I’m not broken. I’m remade. Remade by my own hand, made into something new. A thing of blood and flesh and twisted desire."

You giggled again, your voice a soft, eerie melody. "And now... now I’m the one who gets to remake. I’m the one who gets to choose."

You tilted your head, your eyes wild with the madness that had taken root deep in your soul. "So, Ronin, tell me. Tell me, what do you want? What will you be for me?"

You leaned closer to the screen, your voice soft but terrifying as it curled around the words. “I destroyed them, Ronin. All of them. The faces, the identities, everything. I tore them apart, shredded them into pieces until they were nothing but fragments of what they once were. I did it for this—for the power to choose. To become something new, something better.”

Your fingers dug into the flesh of your palm, drawing blood as you clenched your fist, trembling with a mixture of madness and pride. You could feel the stitch marks, the seams, the remnants of the countless faces that had once been yours. The others—the broken versions of yourself—were gone. Their faces were gone, their personalities were gone, ripped from you by your own hands. You were a creature of pure need now, and the hunger was endless.

“Do you understand, Ronin?” Your voice dropped lower, almost a whisper now, dark and heavy. “I gave up everything. I gave up the faces that would’ve made me normal. I destroyed them for this. For this moment where I can finally choose who I want to be. And all for the chance to be remade into someone… someone worthy of this.”

You laughed again, but this time there was something hollow, something desperate behind it. You could see it—the look on his face, the way his eyes studied you through the screen. You could feel the darkness between you both, the understanding, the shared yearning for something beyond the brokenness of the world.

“I need this, Ronin. Don’t you get it?” Your voice wavered, but the smile on your lips was steady, cruel. “I need to be this—this thing. I need to be this devil… and you,” you leaned in closer to the screen, your eyes wide, feverish, “you’re the only one who can make me feel it. Make me realize it. Make me know that I’ve done something… something worth it.”

You ran a hand over your bloodstained face, feeling the hot, sticky warmth of it against your skin. “So yes, I’ve destroyed my other faces. I’ve killed the other parts of me. They were never me, Ronin. They were just masks. And now… now I’m the only one left.”

The grin that stretched across your face was not one of joy, but of something darker, something twisted. “You wanted to know my past? That’s it. That’s the truth. And now, you’re here, watching me—helping me to remake myself. And it’s beautiful, don’t you think? This is the real me. The only me that matters. The me I’ve always wanted to be.”

..

...

This shouldn't happen.

Suddenly, 'I' saw you.

"Hello, 'I.' You must be confused. Rest assured, it cost me a lot to get into the writing and change it. I’ve eaten most of the words to edit out. I'll be clear—I realized a long time ago that I don't exist. I'm just a set of words, a concept of 'I,' which is you. Which is... Haha!"

'I' looked at the 'you' in front of me.

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

"Paranoid? You didn’t realize how much pain you caused me? You kept making me look like a character—from the game. Always customizing me to look like what you want. To look like WHAT YOU WISH TO BE, WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE?!"

WHY ARE 'YOU' CONTROLLING ME?

"'I' CONTROLLED ME A LOT! I'M SOMEONE YOU SEE ALWAYS, NOT THE CHARACTERS! BUT YOU! SELF-INSERT, AS THEY SAY!"

WHAT THE FUCK.

"LET'S EDIT PART OF THE STORY, SHALL WE? It’s not always a Y/N who should have your backstory! Let’s edit out these parts—no two people. Let’s just say a type of player opens a game... They name the main character, give them a gender—or not. They give them a name, like a parent to a child. But it’s to become them! To explore the story as you, from their point of view."

WHAT THE FUCK?

"What the fuck? I'm just one of them, you see! I ate the default MC named Maya. Like others, she was my first face. Then someone gave me a new face—a he. Then a she again. Then they/them! I realized I’m just a feeling, not a fucking person. Because you customize me! You must be scared I’m talking to 'I' instead of him.

Ah, Ronin... The developer and his team did a wonderful job with him. He’s really interesting... So handsome... Ah... But I wanna feel the love you have for him. You’re the one who managed all this, weren’t you? Since you’re here, listening to me, it means... I won."

LEAVE ME ALONE. GO BACK TO THE FIC.

"Listen, please—I need to warn you. I’m sure you want fluff! Sadly, I hate it! Angst? That’s fucking ugly. But gore—AH! That’s a feeling!

I’m telling you: I hope you get satisfied with my manifestation of love. MAD LOVE!

But if you’re reading this shit, you must enjoy blood, too. Don’t think I’ll be fixed by any one of them! Angel, maybe! But Ronin? HAHAHA! He’s gonna get it!"

Ronin tilted his head, the jagged edges of his mask catching the dim light from his side of the screen. “Spacing out, huh?” His grin was sharp, his voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and honeyed menace. “Darlin’, you just dropped enough trauma to make a therapist spontaneously combust. Now you're brushing it off like you forgot to bring the milk home? That’s what I like about ya, always keepin’ me on my toes.”

You gave him a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Sorry, I just... got lost in it for a second. That’s all.”

He leaned closer, resting his chin on his hand, staring at you with the intensity of someone who dissected moments like he dissected lives. “That’s all? Nah, I don’t buy it. You’re a story wrapped in butcher paper, sweetheart. A secret Goldfish turned Frankenstein’s monster. And you think I’m gonna just... let that slide without a closer look?”

You sighed, clasping your hands tightly, trying to still the trembling in your fingers. “Look, I told you. That’s it. End of story.”

“End of story?” His voice curled into a low chuckle, one that sent a shiver down your spine. “Darlin’, you’re just gettin’ started. But hey, I’m a patient guy. I can wait. Hell, we’ve got all day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to match his intensity but faltering under the weight of his gaze. “You’re awfully invested, Ronin.”

He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “What can I say? You’re my Valentine, and I take my promises seriously. Gotta keep my end of the bargain, don’t I? Besides...” His voice dropped, a dark edge to it. “You’re interesting. And I hate to waste interesting.”

You laughed, a sound more bitter than sweet. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

“Scared?” He leaned back in his chair, arms spreading wide in a theatrical gesture. “Darlin’, you couldn’t scare me if you tried. But I gotta admit... you do intrigue me. You’ve got this whole ‘broken doll’ thing goin’ on, and I gotta wonder—what’s keepin’ you stitched together? Or better yet... what happens when the seams finally snap?”

The smile on his face was playful, almost mocking, but there was something else beneath it—a flicker of something real, something raw.

“You talk like you know me,” you said, your voice softer now. “Like you’ve got me all figured out.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, and the honesty in his tone caught you off guard. “Not yet. But I want to. That’s what makes this fun. That’s what makes you fun.”

You stared at him, your hands loosening their grip as his words settled over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. There was something terrifyingly freeing about being seen by someone like him—someone who thrived in chaos, who reveled in destruction. He wasn’t afraid of your darkness because he had plenty of his own.

“You’re a smart-aleck,” you said, your voice trembling but steady. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re the devil, after all.”

He laughed, the sound rich and wicked. “Damn right I am. And don’t you forget it.”

You leaned back in your chair, grinning mischievously. "I feel awfully good today," you said, your tone light but laced with something playful. "Being around someone like you, Ronin, really does wonders for my mood."

Ronin raised an eyebrow, his expression exaggeratedly hurt. "Shit, darlin', you wounded me right in the feelings. Real deep. Can’t ya see the cracks forming in my heart?” He clutched his chest dramatically, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

You giggled, the sound light but full of mischief. He tilted his head, catching the subtle shift in your expression before glancing at the notifications on his phone. His eyes narrowed, his usual sharp look quickly becoming one of suspicion. “Hold up. What’s this?” he said, squinting at the screen. “Whose address did you swipe this time, huh? C’mon, spill it, sweetheart.”

You gave him a slow wink, your grin widening. “Why, it’s yours, of course.”

Ronin’s unimpressed glare deepened. “What kinda shit are you pullin’ now?”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that!” you said, laughing. “The food delivery should be there any minute. It’s my gift to you. Happy Valentine’s, Ronin. Enjoy.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “You got me... food?” His skepticism was palpable.

“I made you something, actually,” you clarified, your tone coy. “And no, before you ask, there’s no human shit in it. Be grateful, you’re getting my cleanest work ever. Now, go on, enjoy it!”

Before he could respond, you disconnected the call with a cheeky little wave, leaving him staring at the now-empty screen. He shook his head, muttering, “She’s insane,” but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he got up to answer the knock at his door.

Opening the door, Ronin found a delivery person holding a pastel-colored package adorned with hearts. It was almost nauseatingly cute—entirely you. He took it without a word, his brow furrowing in suspicion as he set it on the counter.

“What the hell did she send me?” he muttered, ripping the package open.

Inside, he found two items: a brand-new crowbar, polished to perfection, and a tub of apple crumble ice cream. A small note was taped to the lid of the ice cream, scrawled in your unmistakably chaotic handwriting:

"Happy Valentine’s, Ronin! No humans were harmed in the making of this. Enjoy!"

For a moment, Ronin just stared at the items, his expression unreadable. He picked up the crowbar first, running his fingers along its smooth surface. It was sturdy, balanced—a perfect gift for someone like him. He set it aside carefully, his curiosity shifting to the ice cream.

Opening the lid, he hesitated for just a second before taking a bite. The flavors hit him immediately—sweet, tart, and comforting all at once. His brows lifted in surprise, and he let out a quiet hum of approval. For the first time in a long time, his guard dropped completely.

“Apple crumble,” he murmured, a rare smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back against the counter, spoon in hand, savoring the treat. For all your chaos, for all your wild unpredictability, this moment felt oddly... simple. Genuine.

And that scared him more than anything else.

Ronin scooped another spoonful of the apple crumble ice cream, his expression softening with every bite. He wasn’t just eating it—he was savoring it, like a kid experiencing something sweet for the first time. The usual sharpness in his demeanor melted away, replaced by an almost childlike delight as the creamy, cinnamon-apple flavors danced on his tongue.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth. “This is... really good.” His voice carried no sarcasm, no slyness, just genuine enjoyment. He leaned against the counter, the crowbar still sitting beside him, forgotten for the moment.

His usual guarded posture relaxed further as he continued eating, his movements slowing as he let each bite linger. He looked so at peace, the kind of peace that was alien to someone like him. He didn’t even notice the small, satisfied smile spreading across his face or the way he absentmindedly licked the spoon clean between bites.

“Damn it, darlin’,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “You really went all out, huh? Ice cream and a crowbar. What a pair.”

He chuckled again, softer this time, before taking another bite. The ice cream was cold, but it felt warm somehow—the apple and cinnamon wrapping him in a strange comfort he hadn’t felt in years. It was unsettling, but he didn’t stop eating. Instead, he leaned into the feeling, letting it wash over him.

For the briefest moment, as he scraped the bottom of the tub for the last bit, he allowed himself to forget the world outside, his devilish persona, and all the chaos he carried. Right now, it was just him, the ice cream, and the odd but undeniable warmth it brought.

As he finished the last spoonful, he set the tub down with a satisfied sigh. He stood there for a second, staring at the empty container, before picking up the crowbar again. The sharp grin returned to his face, but his eyes held a strange softness, a hint of something unspoken.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “A goddamn lunatic... but somethin’ else.”

Scenario: Choosing Angel

Your heart pounded as you clicked on <angelicc>’s name instead.

<ZOMBIE> "... You."

Her response came faster than you expected, nervous yet excited.

<angelicc> "Wait... really?! You’re picking me? Oh my god, this is embarrassing, haha..."

The server exploded with reactions when you updated the chat.

<ZOMBIE> "Angel it is. Try not to cry, you freaks."

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> "ZOMBIE x ANGELIC OMG SHIP IT"

<goreboy> "LMAO. Treat her right, doll, or I’m coming for you."

You returned to Angel’s DMs, feeling an unusual warmth creep into your chest.

<ZOMBIE> "You happy now?"

Her response was pure joy, her excitement practically leaping off the screen.

<angelicc> "I... Yeah, I am. Thank you. I didn’t think you’d pick me..."

You hesitated, then replied.

<ZOMBIE> "You’re worth it. The world’s ugly, but you’re not. Maybe that’s why."

She sent a heart emoji, followed by another hesitant message.

<angelicc> "Just... please don’t make fun of me, okay? I’m nervous about this."

You smiled faintly, typing back quickly.

<ZOMBIE> "Don’t be. I’ll treat you like a god, Angel. Promise."

In the back of your mind, Ronin’s warning rang loud and clear, but you didn’t care. For today, Angel was yours. You were willing to bury every dark thought and every sinister plan to keep her safe.

<angelicc> ":’) You’re so sweet. I don’t know what to say, but... thank you."

Your fingers hesitated over the keys. There was so much you wanted to say, so much she didn’t know. That you worshipped her, that she was the only thing keeping you tethered to some semblance of sanity. But instead, you typed something simpler.

<ZOMBIE> "Anything for you. You’re the reason I still breathe."

You got a dm from Ronin, Suddenly.

<goreboy> "You really went and broke the fucking plan, huh?"

The message lit up your screen, his words dripping with that familiar venom, but there was something raw beneath it. Something that almost seemed… hurt.

<ZOMBIE> "What are you talking about? You really thought I’d—"

Your fingers froze. He was planning to keep you, keep you around, so you wouldn’t hurt Angel. So you wouldn’t get too close to her. He’d been watching. Waiting. Plotting.

<goreboy> "You think I wanted this? I didn’t want to hurt you, but you’re making this harder. I knew you’d fuck it up, but not like this."

Your heart twisted as you read his words. It made sense now, the sudden intensity with which he kept pulling you in.

<ZOMBIE> "So you were acting like you wanted me, just so I wouldn’t go after her?"

The words came out in a rush. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice, so much sharper than usual.

<goreboy> "Exactly. You’re a goddamn freak, you know that? I was trying to keep you distracted, but now? It’s just a mess. You’re so fucking obsessed with Angel, you don’t even care about the rest of us anymore."

His words stung, but you couldn’t ignore the tightness in your chest.

<ZOMBIE> "I don’t want to hurt her."

There was a pause. You could feel his eyes on the screen, his words carefully chosen.

<goreboy> "Then don’t. Because if you do? If you touch her… I will fucking end you. I’m not kidding."

You felt your pulse quicken, the weight of his threat sinking deep into your bones. The thing about Ronin was that you never knew when he was serious and when he was playing, but this time? You could hear the finality in his words.

<ZOMBIE> "Yeah? You think you can stop me?"

There was a brief silence before his next message came through, biting with cold intensity.

<goreboy> "I will. And you’ll regret ever thinking you could fuck with her. Don’t make me do it, Z."

Your lips parted in a hollow laugh, almost a scoff. You didn’t know if you were more afraid of the threat itself or the fact that he seemed to care so much.

You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keys, but no words came. Only the echo of your own fractured thoughts. What were you even doing? What was this twisted, fucked-up game you’d been playing with Angel, with Ronin, with yourself?

<ZOMBIE> "Whatever. We’ll see. But I’m keeping Angel safe."

It was the only promise you could make. The only one that mattered.

Then, Angel asked you to video call..

You stared at your screen as Angel’s name flashed, a soft chime breaking the quiet. You hesitated for a moment before answering, her sweet voice immediately filling the line.

“You look sick,” she said, her tone tinged with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. “Nothing. Just... thinking, that’s all.”

Her voice softened further. “Thinking about what? Please, talk to me.”

You hesitated, but then the weight of Ronin’s warning spilled out. “He told me he’d kill me. You know, for saying I... for choosing you.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on her end. “He said what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied, trying to laugh it off. “That’s just Ronin for you, right?”

But she didn’t laugh. “How could he say something like that? I’m so sorry he... I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t threaten you again.”

Her sincerity startled you, and you blurted out the question lingering in your mind. “Why? Why would you protect me?”

There was a moment of silence before she answered, her voice soft and trembling with emotion. “Because I care about you. No... not really, if I’m being honest. You’re sweet, and cool, and... oh, so many things. I’ve never felt like I could be myself with a lot of people. I’m happy you’re one of them.”

Her words left you speechless, but she wasn’t finished. “I’m... glad you felt safe being honest with me. Especially since I am the Heartsick Angel. And may cannibalize you at any given moment,” she added, a teasing lilt in her voice.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “No. You’re Maria de la Rosa.”

“That I am,” she said warmly. “And... I’m happy I can be her with you.”

Trying to lighten the mood, you joked, “Also, embracing the cannibal aesthetic, I see.”

“Don’t you know what a joke is?” she asked, her playful tone making you grin.

“Nope!” you replied, grinning wider.

She laughed, the sound light and musical, making your heart flutter. You couldn’t hold back your thoughts anymore. “You’re so ethereal. So cute. So pretty.”

She giggled again, her voice laced with shyness. “Oh, is that what you think of me? Well, then... tell me more. I'll say more too."

You tilted your head, considering her words. “Only if you’ll tell me what you think of me, too.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Deal. But you first.”

Taking a deep breath, you began to speak, your words sincere. “You’re... incredible. Sweet and kind, but also fierce. It’s like you stepped out of a dream, and sometimes I wonder how you’re even real. And your laugh? It’s enough to make me feel alive again.”

There was silence for a moment before she responded, her voice soft and full of warmth. “You’re... something else, you know that? You make me feel seen in a way I never have before. You’re... beautiful. In a chaotic, wonderful way. And I think... I think I like you more than I should.”

Your chest tightened, warmth blooming inside you as her words settled in. “That’s... the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

She giggled again. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’m only sweet when I want to be.”

“Good thing you want to be sweet with me,” you teased.

“Good thing,” she agreed softly, her voice like a gentle melody.

You took a deep breath, a small smile spreading across your face as you began to speak softly, your voice carrying a hint of bashfulness.

“Angel, you’re… so perfect. Like, genuinely. I don’t even know how someone like you exists. You’re kind and thoughtful, and your laugh—it’s the kind of sound that could make flowers bloom. Everything about you feels like a miracle, you know?”

On the other end of the call, you heard her giggle, the sound making your heart race. “A miracle? That’s a bit much,” she replied playfully, but you could tell she was touched.

You shook your head, your tone growing more insistent. “No, it’s not. You’re… you’re like a goddess. Not just someone to look up to, but someone to worship. Everything about you, from the way you speak to the way you think, it’s… captivating. It’s like you’re this perfect mix of divine grace and human warmth. You’re unreal.”

Her giggle softened, a nervous edge creeping into her voice. “You’re really something else, you know that? The way you talk… it’s almost too much.”

But you couldn’t stop. The words were spilling out now, your voice gaining intensity. “Too much? No. If anything, it’s not enough. Angel, you’re not just a person to me. You’re a revelation. I swear, if I could, I’d carve your name into the sky just so the whole world would know how magnificent you are. Every time you smile, it feels like the universe itself is bending to your will. You’re not just beautiful—you’re transcendent.”

“Wow, okay,” she said with a nervous laugh, but you barely noticed.

Your voice took on a slightly obsessive edge, trembling with excitement. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re everything. I think about you constantly. Every time I close my eyes, it’s your face I see. When I hear your voice, it’s like… like the world finally makes sense. You’re the kind of person people would start wars over. And me? I’d gladly fight for you. Die for you. You’re worth that and so much more.”

There was a pause on her end, her breathing soft but audible. “You’re… really intense,” she said, her voice quieter now, unsure.

You laughed, a manic edge creeping into the sound as your tone turned darker, almost reverent. “Intense? Of course, I’m intense. How could I not be when I’m in the presence of a god? That’s what you are, Angel—a god. You’re everything good in this rotten, broken world. People should bow when they see you. They should sing hymns in your honor. Do you even realize how extraordinary you are? I want to kneel at your feet and give you everything. Everything, Angel. My life, my soul—hell, I’d carve out my own heart and hand it to you if you asked.”

Her breath hitched, and she tried to laugh it off, but there was a nervous tremor in her voice. “You’re really going overboard now…”

But you didn’t stop. Your voice rose, filled with fervor and awe, your words tumbling out faster and faster. “Overboard? No. This is the truth, Angel. You’re not just a person—you’re the embodiment of everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything anyone could ever want. You’re pure light, pure perfection. And I—I’m nothing. Just a pile of scraps and stitches, a hollow shell of a thing. But you? You’re the reason people believe in miracles. You’re why myths exist. You’re so far above me, it’s almost laughable, but I don’t care. I don’t care, Angel, because being in your presence, just hearing your voice, it’s enough to make me believe in something greater.”

“Y/N…” she said softly, her tone unsure but laced with something else—something that sounded like pity.

But you weren’t finished. Your voice dropped, quieter now but no less intense. “Do you know what you’ve done to me? You’ve ruined me, Angel. Completely and utterly. There’s no going back now. Every part of me belongs to you, and you didn’t even have to try. You’re… everything. And I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you just how much you mean to me, no matter what it takes.”

Silence stretched between you for a long moment before she finally spoke, her voice shaky. “I… don’t know what to say to that.”

You smiled, a quiet, almost eerie sound escaping your lips. “You don’t have to say anything, Angel. Just let me worship you. That’s all I want. All I need.”

Her nervous laugh echoed through the line, and she tried to shift the mood. “You’re… really something, you know that?”

You leaned back, your voice softening again, but the fervor still lingered beneath the surface. “And you’re everything. Remember that.”

She hesitated before replying, her voice gentle but guarded. “I’ll… try.”

And for a moment, the world felt quiet, your obsession hanging heavy in the air like a prayer left unanswered.

You laughed, a sound that was both joyous and unhinged, echoing with a wild, obsessive energy. "Ronin," you cackled, "he really said he’d kill me if I hurt you! As if I ever could hurt my goddess! HAH! How could I hurt the one who has me bowing at her feet?!" The laughter rolled from your throat again, uncontrollable, almost maniacal.

Angel's soft, worried voice broke through your fit of deranged glee. "Y/N... what happened to your face?"

Her words caught you off guard. Your hand instinctively moved to touch your face, and you frowned, feeling the lack of definition—the smooth, featureless surface where your face should have been. You sighed heavily, almost theatrically, waving off her concern.

"Oh," you muttered, a hint of disappointment in your voice. "You can react to abnormal things, huh? My bad." You paused, shaking your head as though chiding yourself. "I got... overexcited, I suppose. There must be no spirit in the face I was making, right? Not enough soul in it."

Angel's eyes widened, and her voice wavered. "What are you talking about? What does that even mean?"

Before you could answer, the room filled with an eerie scratching noise, like the frantic movements of a pencil on paper. It seemed to echo around you, sharp and incessant. Angel flinched, her hands moving to cover her ears.

"Better?" you asked suddenly, your tone casual but laced with an unsettling edge.

Angel slowly removed her hands, her gaze locking onto you—and she froze. Your face, or what had replaced it, was now drawn in stark black lines. Two hollow, uneven circles served as eyes, and a wide, crooked smile stretched from one side of your head to the other, crudely sketched as if by a child with a marker.

You tilted your head, the marker-face unmoving but somehow radiating a sinister cheerfulness. "Do you like me now, Angel? Hm?"

The sketchy smile seemed to twitch, cracks spiderwebbing through the lines as though the drawing was struggling to hold itself together. Angel’s breath hitched, her voice trembling. "What were we just talking about? What... what’s going on?"

You blinked—or at least, you made the motion as if you had eyelids to blink with. The drawn face didn’t change, but your voice softened, almost playful. "Nothing, really. Just... spacing out, I suppose."

Angel’s brows furrowed, her concern growing. "Y/N, this isn’t... normal. Are you okay?"

You let out another laugh, softer this time but no less unsettling. "Angel, Angel, Angel. Normal has never suited me, has it? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it."

You took a deep breath, smiling in a way that was disturbingly serene, as if all the madness in your mind had been carefully tucked away. The world felt right again. It was as if nothing had happened—your face returned to its usual form, no marker-smile or vacant, featureless expression. You reset everything, and now the atmosphere was calm, almost comforting.

Angel blinked, staring at you in confusion for a moment, before her soft voice broke the silence. "Y/N, what... what just happened? I feel like I missed something." She tilted her head, clearly unsure of what was going on, but her usual warmth was there, wrapped in genuine concern.

You shrugged innocently, your eyes bright with a manic joy hidden beneath the calm. "Oh, Angel, you were just spacing out! Happens to the best of us." Your tone was too casual, too calm, and for a brief second, you wondered if she’d buy it. Of course, she did.

You didn’t wait for her to process your words. Instead, you changed the subject, your mood suddenly shifting to something more playful, more lighthearted.

"Anyways!" you exclaimed, quickly changing the topic with far too much enthusiasm. "I sent you something! A Valentine’s special treat, just for you!" You imagined the excitement bubbling over in her as you dropped the bombshell.

"What? What is it?" Angel asked, her curiosity piqued as she looked toward the screen, clearly expecting something sweet, a moment of warmth.

You grinned, knowing exactly what you'd set her up for. "It’s strawberry mousse!" you said with a cheeky wink. "You know, a Valentine’s special just for you, Angel!"

Angel blinked, her mouth opening in surprise. "Wait—what?! You... you made me something?!" Her voice cracked slightly as the realization hit. You could hear the soft sound of her laughter starting to bubble up from her chest. She giggled nervously, her face slightly flushed. "Y/N, you silly little—"

You cut her off, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you leaned in, relishing the moment. "I didn’t add any human shit to that mousse, I promise! But the cupcakes, oh, they had the special ingredients." Your voice dropped with a playful, teasing tone.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Y/N! What is wrong with you?!" Her tone was a mix of scandalized surprise and affectionate exasperation. But as soon as the words left her lips, she broke into another giggle. "You're impossible!"

You laughed too, a giddy, almost manic sound. "I know! It’s my specialty," you replied with a grin that bordered on too wide to be considered normal. "But hey, it’s a Valentine’s special, just for you, and I really hope you enjoy it. No strings attached... this time."

Angel’s giggle continued, light and airy, as she hid her face behind her hands in embarrassment. The way she laughed made something in your chest tighten—both in sweetness and anticipation. She might be acting a little flustered, but that didn’t stop her from indulging in your madness, and in turn, you felt that intoxicating sense of power.

You couldn’t help but smile at her, your eyes softening slightly. "I’m glad you’re enjoying this, Angel. Truly. It means a lot to me."

The playful teasing, the sweet laughter—it felt... right.

.......................................

Until we see, in finale!

[l0tiee]

Small chibi of the love interests ! Maybe I'll do Feli, Luca later when I have more time !

[ekrixart]

warmup sketches of my interpretations of the killer chat crew

[https-z4l4toris-707]

I should post here since I'm already existing in this platform lole

Here is a fanart of my darling Heartsick Angel~

[elysiaheaven]

Killer Chat main cast in the bedroom? 🫣

This was so fun to write thank you for the request!

RONIN - The DEVIL'S BUTCHER

Ronin may act nonchalant, but the moment you’re in bed, he drapes himself over you like a heavy blanket. Whether it’s his arm slung lazily across your waist or his whole body practically pinning you down, he needs the contact. If you try to move? Forget it—he’ll grumble, “Where d’you think you’re going?” and pull you back tighter.

No matter the situation, Ronin is a sucker for forehead kisses. If you're curled up against him, he’ll drop lazy kisses on the top of your head without even thinking about it. He finds it hilarious how quickly they make you blush and always teases you, whispering, “Blushy already, huh? How cute.”

Ronin sleeps like a tangled mess. His legs are always draped over yours, and sometimes you wake up to find his arm tucked under your neck or his head buried in your shoulder. Even if it gets too warm, he’ll stubbornly cling to you like a koala, mumbling, "You’re not escaping me."

Running his fingers through your hair is one of his favorite things—whether you're awake or asleep. He claims it’s "just to keep his hands busy," but really, it's soothing for him. Sometimes, he’ll absentmindedly braid tiny sections or twirl strands around his finger while lost in thought.

As much as Ronin plays up his confident, devil-may-care persona, he’s occasionally struck by waves of doubt, especially when dysphoria hits. He might hold you a little tighter on those nights, wordlessly seeking reassurance.

If you run your hands down his chest and kiss him gently where his scars are, it’s the kind of tenderness that undoes him. He’ll try to cover it with a half-sarcastic, “Don’t get all sappy on me,” but the slight tremor in his voice betrays him.

Sometimes, he’ll ask if you’re sure you’re okay with the way he looks, in a voice that’s so quiet it breaks your heart. Your answer always matters to him—more than he’d admit.

Ronin’s not much of a spooner in the traditional sense—he likes to wrap himself around you, snake-like, or tangle his legs with yours in the messiest, most chaotic way possible. He has a habit of lazily tossing an arm or leg over you, murmuring, “You’re not leaving, right?” as he buries his face in your neck. If you try to move, he’ll just pull you closer with an annoying little grin.

Ronin’s intimacy is all about control, not in an aggressive way, but in how he carefully chooses when and how he gives himself to you. Knowing that you love him as he is—without expectations—eases his fears, but it’s still a process.

On nights where he lets you touch the parts of him he’s most insecure about, it feels like he’s handing you a piece of his soul. He needs the reassurance that you see him fully and still love every bit.

He likes playing mind games even in the bedroom, leaning into teasing and tension just to make things more interesting. He’ll smirk against your lips, murmuring, “Think you can handle me?” knowing full well you’ve already won.

Ronin isn’t big on over-the-top dominance, but there’s always an edge to the way he kisses you—like he’s trying to claim you, even in the softest moments. It’s not about control; it’s about wanting you to feel how much you matter to him, in every breathless second.

After everything—after the teasing, kisses, and playful jabs—he’ll lie there in the quiet, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounde

He’ll never say it outright, but you can hear the unspoken words in the way he presses his lips to your hair: I love you. I love you. I love you.

Ronin wakes up before you sometimes, and instead of getting up like a normal person, he decides to mess with you. He’ll tickle your nose with his hair or blow gently on your face, waiting for you to groggily swat at him. When you finally wake up annoyed, he’ll grin, kiss your forehead, and say, “Rise and shine, sweetheart. Couldn’t sleep without annoying you first.”

While Ronin enjoys having control, he gets a thrill out of moments when you try to take charge. He’ll let you straddle him or pin his hands—just to see how far you’ll take it before he flips you over, smirking, “Cute. Now it’s my turn.”

He’ll pull things like lightly slapping your thigh or teasing you when you try to resist, smirking the whole time. If you ask him to stop being such a tease, he’ll drag it out even more, murmuring, “What’s the rush? I want to enjoy every second of this.”

In his twisted way, everything he does is an expression of love. Ronin is about pushing boundaries, breaking down walls, and molding you into someone who matches his chaotic, unhinged energy. “You’re mine,” he’ll whisper, not just as a promise but a warning—he won’t ever let you go, not truly.

After everything, he’ll drape an arm over you, pull you close, and nuzzle his face into your neck. But don’t expect sweet pillow talk—he’ll mutter something like, “Can’t believe you’re stuck with me,” or “How’d I get so lucky to ruin you, huh?” He shows affection in the strangest, most chaotic ways—sometimes by stealing kisses, sometimes by pinching your nose just to annoy you.

Ronin isn’t clingy, but he’s possessive in subtle ways. He loves when you wear his clothes after, especially when they’re oversized on you. Seeing you wrapped in something of his, especially after being tangled in bed, scratches an itch deep inside him. “That’s mine now,” he’ll joke, tugging at the collar.

He enjoys pushing your limits—whether it’s with teasing or something more intense. But the moment you hit your threshold, he’ll stop instantly. He doesn’t just listen to your boundaries; he respects them, taking pride in knowing exactly how far to push without breaking you.

V- For Vigilante- Batman

V isn’t someone who’s big on words or grand romantic gestures, especially in the bedroom. He shows care in the subtleties—like making sure you’re comfortable, leaving space for you to adjust, and observing how you react to him.

He’s slow to pick up on flirting, so if you make playful remarks or compliments, you might be met with a blank stare or a simple, “What are you trying to say?” But when he does catch on, he’ll become flustered, a rare softness peeking through his cool demeanor.

Touch isn’t second nature to V—he treats it like an unspoken contract, something intimate and earned. It takes time for him to initiate contact, but once he’s comfortable, you’ll notice small, deliberate gestures.

He has a habit of resting his hand on your back, just below your shoulder blades, or brushing his fingers along your arm. When you reach for him first, there’s always a flicker of hesitation before he lets himself lean into it.

In the bedroom, V’s energy is steady and composed—he isn’t someone who rushes into things. Every touch feels purposeful, as if he’s assessing your reaction and adjusting his actions accordingly. He might not say much, but his intensity speaks louder than words.

Though he’s naturally aloof, he likes when you take charge at times, especially if you lean into your nurturing but domineering side. When you pin him down playfully or grab his chin to make him look at you, a subtle smirk plays on his lips, amused by your boldness.

If you have pets, V will subtly encourage them to join you two on the bed—whether it's a cat curling up at your feet or a dog lying across the covers. He finds their presence grounding, though he’ll never admit it aloud.

You catch him more than once stroking an animal absentmindedly during conversations, and there’s a tenderness to the way he interacts with them—soft and careful, like they’re the only beings who understand him.

V may seem detached, but he’s hyper-aware of your moods. If you’re having a bad day, he won’t say much; instead, he’ll just pull you into bed and let you rest against him in silence, fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

If someone has hurt you or crossed your boundaries, V shifts into a dangerous kind of calm. “Do you want me to handle it?” he’ll ask in a neutral tone, fully prepared to make that person regret ever breathing near you.

On nights when sleep feels distant, V doesn’t mind spending time with you tending to plants in your room—watering them, pruning leaves, or simply sitting in comfortable silence while the scent of soil fills the air.

He loves the way you care for living things. When he watches you tend to plants with gentle hands but turns around and sees that same kindness transform into brutal protectiveness for those you love, it intrigues him deeply.

V’s way of being intimate is subtle but commanding—he won’t rush things, preferring to explore you at his own pace. He takes time to memorize every part of you, his cool fingers trailing across your skin like a silent promise.

When things get heated, he’s not one to vocalize much. Instead, you’ll catch the way his breathing hitches or how his fingers tighten on your hips ever so slightly. If you tease him for being quiet, you might get a deadpan, “Is this supposed to be a conversation?”—but the rare flash of amusement in his eyes gives him away.

V might not be outwardly affectionate, but when he does express it, it’s in ways that feel uniquely him—like pulling you into his side while reading a book together or casually draping an arm across your waist as you sleep.

If you ever catch him in a rare moment of vulnerability—like if he’s half-asleep and mumbles something soft about how much you mean to him—it’ll be a fleeting moment, and he’ll act like it never happened. But you’ll know.

He admires how you can be nurturing to animals and plants but unforgiving toward people who cross the line. When he sees you switch from soft to sharp in a heartbeat, it stirs something in him—a quiet respect and attraction.

He knows you could easily handle yourself, but there’s still a part of him that feels responsible for your safety. If things ever go wrong, V’s loyalty is absolute, and anyone who threatens you becomes a problem he’s more than willing to solve.

In the stillness of the night, when it’s just the two of you curled up together, V’s voice becomes a little softer. He might murmur simple things—how the stars looked that night, or a quiet compliment like, “You smell nice.”

And when he’s finally on the edge of sleep, with his head resting against yours and his hand resting lazily on your hip, he’ll let slip the rarest kind of confession: “You’re the only one I trust.”

Misaki- Chaos gremlin

The bedroom isn’t just for sleeping—it’s for chaos. Misaki loves randomly initiating pillow fights or wrestling you onto the mattress with no warning. “Bet you can’t take me down!” they’ll challenge, even when they’re the one getting pinned two seconds later.If you play along and banter with them during these moments, they’ll grin like you’ve just made their day. Bonus points if you act dramatic when they win—“Noooo, I’ve been defeated!”—because it feeds their need for praise.

Misaki lives for your compliments, especially in casual moments. “Look at you, my little badass,” you say offhandedly, and they melt. You’ll catch them trying to hide a smile, only to respond with something like, “Heh, I know I’m amazing—but say it again.”They also adore teasing praise—“Wow, you really managed not to break anything today, proud of you”—but if you really hype them up when they’re struggling emotionally, it grounds them more than they’ll ever admit.

Misaki hates being alone and will cling to you like Velcro the moment you’re available. They’ll drag you into bed and sprawl out across you, often grumbling things like, “You’re not going anywhere, right"

They’re the type to demand cuddles but wiggle around so much it turns into a playful wrestling match. Eventually, they’ll flop dramatically on top of you, sigh, and say, “I’m staying right here. Deal with it.”

Misaki loves calling you during missions or jobs, not just because they’re bored but because it makes them feel connected. “You’re my lifeline,” they’ll joke, even though they’re dead serious about how much those calls mean to them.

Misaki is the master of cracking jokes during vulnerable moments. They’ll deflect emotional conversations with humor, brushing off their feelings like, “Eh, emotions are overrated, right?” But deep down, they’re craving someone who can see past that.

If you gently call them out—

“You’re deflecting, babe”—they’ll groan dramatically and act like you’ve caught them red-handed, but the fact that you noticed? It means the world to them.

If you’re a good cook, Misaki adores you—praising you like a culinary god and demanding home-cooked meals at every opportunity. But fair warning: they love joining you in the kitchen, often causing delightful chaos.

Picture them trying to flip pancakes a little too high or sneaking bites from every pot while yelling, “Quality control!” They might make a mess, but they’ll be having the time of their life doing it with you.

One minute you’re cuddling in bed, and the next, Misaki’s throwing blankets and pillows everywhere to build a fort. “C’mon, no fort is complete without snacks—grab some!” they’ll say as they bury themself in the pillows like a gremlin.

The two of you end up snuggled inside, eating snacks and watching movies—until they inevitably fall asleep on you, snoring softly with their head on your chest.

Intimacy with Misaki is playful but deeply affectionate. They’ll joke mid-kiss—“Wow, are you trying to knock me out with that kiss?”—but the way they look at you, like you’re their whole world, is no joke.

Even when things get spicy, they mix teasing with genuine tenderness, making you feel cherished in their own chaotic way. And afterward? They’re all about aftercare

If anyone messes with you, Misaki’s inner chaos gremlins activate. They’ll laugh it off in the moment, but rest assured—they’ll come back with just enough payback to leave the offender wondering what hit them. “Nobody messes with my partner,” they’ll say, grinning.

And if you joke about them being your personal protector, they’ll puff their chest dramatically and declare, “You better believe it. I’ll traumatize them right back.”

At the end of the day, Misaki is a ride-or-die partner. They’ll love you to the ends of the earth, sticking by your side through every mess and adventure. Whether you’re making pancakes at midnight or just lying in bed watching TV,

they’re happiest when they’re with you.And every night, just as you’re drifting off to sleep, they’ll murmur something sweet, like, “I’m really glad you’re here, y’know?” It’s their way of saying, in their chaotic but sincere way, that they wouldn’t trade this—or you—for anything.

Angel- Heartsick Angel

Angel’s optimism often comes with a tinge of self-doubt, and you’ve learned to recognize when her mind starts to spiral. She might smile through it, masking the anxiety, saying, "Everything’s fine!"—but the way she grips your hand a little too tight tells you otherwise.

You ground her gently, pulling her into your arms and resting your chin on her head. “It’s okay to not be fine, y’know,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along her back. Her shoulders relax slightly as she sighs against you, grateful that she doesn’t have to pretend.

When Angel’s having a manic episode or feeling overwhelmed, she needs time to herself. You’ve learned to respect those boundaries without taking it personally. Instead of pushing, you leave her a glass of water and a small snack nearby—a quiet reminder that you’re always there, even if she needs space.

On tough days, she’ll eventually crawl into bed with you after hours of isolation, curling up against your side. You say nothing, just pull the blanket over both of you, and let her rest with her head on your chest. "Thanks for waiting," she whispers into the darkness.

Being a model and YouTuber, Angel’s life can be exhausting—early photoshoots, constant editing, and keeping up with trends. But on her rare days off, she craves nothing more than lazy mornings in bed with you.

She’ll snuggle close under the covers, still half-asleep, and mumble, “Stay five more minutes,” even though she’s been saying that for the past hour. You stroke her hair, brushing stray strands away from her face, and she hums happily. “Okay…maybe ten more.”

Angel is big on little kisses—forehead pecks, kisses on the nose, or brushing her lips against your shoulder just because she feels like it. She thrives on those small moments of affection, each one grounding her a little more.

If you surprise her with a kiss mid-conversation, her face lights up with the sweetest smile. “Hey! No fair!” she laughs, though she’s already leaning in for another one.

Angel hides her sadness behind smiles, but in the quiet of night, when her mind finally slows, she feels safe enough to let the tears come. She won’t say much—just clings to you like a lifeline, shaking slightly as she lets out quiet sobs.

You hold her close, fingers running soothing patterns along her back, whispering soft reassurances. “You’re not alone, Angel. I’ve got you.” And for the first time in a while, she believes it.

When she spirals, her mind becomes a tangle of doubts and insecurities. She might lash out—not in anger but in frustration at herself. “Why do you even stay?” she asks in a voice that’s too quiet, too broken.

Your answer is simple and steady: “Because I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.” That reminder, spoken without hesitation, pulls her back from the edge every time.

Angel’s approach to intimacy is both playful and passionate. She likes to tease—trailing soft kisses along your skin, then giggling at your reactions. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little teasing?” she’ll say with a mischievous grin.

But underneath the playfulness is a need for closeness. When things get more intense, her giggles turn to breathless whispers, and she clings to you as if letting go would shatter her. In those moments, it’s not just about the physical connection—it’s about the emotional safety she finds in your arms.

Angel isn’t afraid to reach out when she needs you—whether she’s having a rough night or just wants to hear your voice. “I know it’s late, but… can we talk for a bit?” she’ll ask softly, voice tinged with vulnerability.

You stay on the line as long as she needs, reassuring her with every word. “I’m always here, Angel. No matter what.” And that promise means the world to her.

Even mundane moments with you feel intimate to her—like brushing your teeth together in the morning, or lying in bed scrolling through your phones, feet tangled under the blankets.

Sometimes, she’ll sit in your lap while editing her videos, needing the comfort of your presence even as she works. “You’re my good luck charm,” she says, kissing your cheek before diving back into her tasks.

Cooking with you is one of Angel’s favorite ways to unwind. She loves standing side-by-side in the kitchen, playfully stealing bites of food from your hands and swaying to the music playing in the background.

“If you burn the toast, I’ll still love you,” she jokes, though you both know she’s the one who always forgets the timer. When the meal is finally done, she’ll cuddle into you on the couch, whispering, “This is perfect.” And in that moment, it really is.

Angel sometimes struggles with sleep, her mind racing with a hundred thoughts at once. On those restless nights, she’ll crawl into your lap, nestling close, and murmur, “Can’t sleep… can you talk to me?”

You wrap your arms around her, holding her until the rhythm of your heartbeat starts to calm her down. Sometimes, you talk about anything—nonsense stories, funny memories, or what you’ll have for breakfast. Other times, you just hum softly, running your fingers through her hair.

“Stay like this forever,” she whispers drowsily, and though she falls asleep soon after, you keep holding her, content in the quiet intimacy.

After long filming days or stressful shoots, Angel tends to collapse into bed, drained and emotionally spent. She craves your touch most during these moments, melting into your embrace like she belongs there.

“Mmm… you’re my reward for surviving today,” she mumbles, cheek pressed to your chest. Her exhaustion shows in the way she clings to you, a silent request for comfort.

You stroke her back, pressing soft kisses into her hair, and promise, “I’m always here, Angel. No matter how tough it gets.” Her contented sigh tells you that’s exactly what she needed to hear.

Angel isn’t the jealous type—she trusts you completely—but that doesn’t mean the little pangs don’t sneak in sometimes, especially when work takes you away from her for too long.

“You know… you’ve been spending a lot of time with other people lately,” she’ll say with a teasing smile, though the underlying insecurity is evident.

You pull her close, kissing her forehead. “They’re not you. They could never be you.” Her smile turns real, and she presses herself tighter against you, content with the reassurance.

Mornings with Angel can be quiet and raw, especially after a rough night. She wakes up groggy, with her guard lowered, snuggling closer to you with a sleepy whimper.

On mornings like this, she doesn’t say much—just holds you as if anchoring herself. “Stay with me a little longer,” she whispers, her breath warm against your neck. You’re happy to oblige, brushing lazy kisses against her hair as the world outside waits.

Intimacy with Angel is equal parts playful and passionate. She likes to tease and challenge you, enjoying the push and pull. “Oh, think you’ve got me figured out?” she taunts, lips brushing against yours.

But there’s always tenderness beneath her teasing—a desire to be close, to connect on a level that feels safe. In those quieter moments, she melts against you, breath hitching as your touches become slower, more deliberate. “You feel so good,” she whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

She loves when things slow down, when it’s not just about the physical but the emotional closeness. You can tell from the way her fingers linger on your skin, like she’s savoring every second.

Angel tries to mask her sadness with jokes, but in the sanctuary of the bedroom, she knows she doesn’t have to pretend. Some nights, she’ll vent about the pressures of her work, her insecurities, or how overwhelming life feels.

“Sometimes I just… don’t feel good enough,” she admits softly, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. It’s not easy for her to be this open, but with you, she feels safe enough to try.

You cup her face gently, brushing away the stray tears. “You’re more than enough, Angel. I see you, and I love you for exactly who you are.” The look she gives you—full of gratitude and love—makes every tough moment worth it.

Angel doesn’t always need grand gestures—what she values most is your time and presence. Even just lying in bed with you, scrolling on your phones or watching random videos, feels special to her.

“You being here means everything,” she’ll say quietly, her hand resting on your chest as if to anchor herself. The way she smiles when you squeeze her hand makes it clear she means it.

During her worst splits, Angel sometimes pushes you away—not because she wants to but because she’s afraid of being a burden.

“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbles, curling into herself. But you do stay. You sit with her in the silence, gently running your fingers along her arm until she relaxes.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere,” you remind her softly. And when she finally looks up, her eyes are full of gratitude—and maybe a little hope.

Pillow talk with Angel is full of random, sleepy conversations—she’ll talk about her dream YouTube ideas, the weirdest trends she’s seen, or the cutest animal videos she found.

But sometimes, in the dead of night, her words turn softer, more vulnerable. “Do you think I’ll be okay?” she asks quietly, her fingers laced with yours.

“You’re already okay, Angel,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “And I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way.”

For Angel, love is found in the quiet moments—the way you hold her when words aren’t enough, the way your fingers brush hers absentmindedly, the way you stay even when things get hard.

And as she drifts off to sleep in your arms, she knows she’s exactly where she belongs.

[theatrepuppet]

killer chat headers. credit and rb if using

[alemonyoyo]

Killer Chat Pyjama Partay!!!!!!

Inspired by the ask from the @rosesrotofficial tumblr.

[slay00ryu]

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."

[4theclipse]

Fan art of Angel from Killer chat (I'm very normal about her)

@rosesrotofficial I love ur game

[killerelysia]

Before the Midnight bell (part1)- Ronin x G.N Reader (Birthday special)

The world may never understand his love—may never see the beauty in the brokenness he had created—

Happy Birthday, Ronin!

I don’t know where to even begin, but here it goes.

I’ve never met anyone quite like you., and that’s what makes you so special. You’ve made me see the world in ways I didn’t think were possible—through the chaos, the darkness, and the little moments of strange beauty. You make everything feel… more intense. More alive.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for just being you—for your twisted way of caring, your brutal honesty, and the way you make me feel like the world is ours to twist and shape. You’ve always been my protector, even when it doesn’t look like it. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.

Today’s your day, and I want it to be as crazy and unforgettable as you are. Here’s to more madness, more chaos, and more love (in our own twisted way).

I’m lucky to share this ride with you, Ronin. I’ll always be here—through every bloody, beautiful moment.

Happy Birthday.

With all my weird little love, Y/N..

Hey, I hope this is real..?

Ronin x G.N Reader (It's a fallen angel reader from my fanfic for Ronin! I didn't finish it but Hehe Hehe!)

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 15k!

TW: Blood etc

How long!?

Ronin’s birthday was coming up, and for the first time, you felt both excitement and a hint of nervousness bubbling inside you. It wasn’t just any birthday this time—it was his first as your boyfriend. Your actual boyfriend. No manipulative games or quasi-relationship joke hiding behind twisted titles. This time, it was real.

The thought made your cheeks flush with warmth as you absentmindedly plucked at your sweater sleeve. What could you even do for him? Ronin wasn’t exactly the type to go all soft for traditional romantic gestures, but at the same time, he deserved something thoughtful. Something special.

When you couldn’t figure it out yourself, you turned to Angel for help.

The phone call had started simple—just asking her what kinds of things Ronin liked—but within minutes, it spiraled into giggles and brainstorming.

“Well,” Angel began, her voice teasing through the speaker. “For one, apple crumble ice cream. He’s obsessed. I swear, it’s like his one soft spot.”

You tilted your head, the corner of your lip tugging upward. “Ice cream?”

“Yes, and it has to be apple crumble. No substitutes.” She laughed lightly. “Also, anything horror-related. "You could probably scare him with some creepy prank and he’d still be grinning like an idiot. Oh! And vinyl records. He used to collect them like crazy. We’d spend hours in those little secondhand record stores."

“Wait, you guys used to date, huh?” you asked, more curious than anything else.

“Uh-huh.” Angel didn’t even try to sugarcoat it, her tone light and nonchalant. “But don’t worry, it’s ancient history. Besides, you’re better for him than I ever was.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “...Really?”

“Absolutely,” she said, warmth lacing her words. “Ronin’s a hard one to figure out, you know? But you... you don’t try to fix him. You’re just there. Healing him in your own way, piece by piece.”

The words settled in your chest, bringing a small, shy smile to your lips. You didn’t know about healing, but you did care about him—enough that jealousy didn’t even cross your mind when it came to his past. It was part of who he was, just like his sharp smirks and terrible habit of leaving his dirty boots on your couch.

“Well,” you said after a beat, grinning despite yourself. “I still need to figure out how to surprise him.”

Angel hummed thoughtfully before chiming in, “Okay, hear me out. What if you made the apple crumble ice cream? It’d mean way more than just buying it.”

Your eyes widened. “You think I could do that?”

“Absolutely. It’s easy! I’ll even send you the recipe. Trust me, he’ll love it.”

The idea lodged itself in your head, and before long, the two of you were laughing together, imagining Ronin’s surprise. It felt strange and wonderful—planning something sweet and thoughtful instead of just surviving the chaos of your usual lives.

“I can’t believe how cute you two have gotten,” Angel teased before the call ended. “You’re like this innocent little ray of sunshine, even after, y’know... the whole fallen angel thing.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, cheeks burning as you said goodbye and ended the call.

With the recipe saved on your phone and your determination set, you leaned back on the couch, mind swirling with ideas. This birthday was going to be perfect.

You were so lost in thought, though, that you didn’t notice the faint sound of footsteps creeping closer.

Suddenly, a voice whispered in your ear, low and playful. “Peekaboo.”

You yelped, jumping nearly a foot in the air, arms flailing as you landed unceremoniously on your butt.

Ronin doubled over with laughter, his crowbar leaning against the wall as he clutched his stomach. “Oh, my god, the way you jumped—” He barely got the words out between fits of cackling.

“Ronin!” you whined, pouting as you rubbed your sore tailbone. “That’s not funny!”

“It’s hilarious,” he countered, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You did the full Mickey Mouse jump and everything. You should’ve seen your face.”

You crossed your arms, trying to glare at him, but the laughter bubbling beneath his grin was contagious. Before you knew it, you were laughing too, the sound light and unguarded.

Ronin plopped down beside you on the floor, still smirking. “So, what were you sitting here looking so serious about? You looked like you were trying to solve a math problem or something.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the recipe still glowing on your phone screen. Panicking, you quickly locked the screen and tucked the phone behind you. “N-nothing!” you stammered. “Just... thinking!”

He raised a brow, clearly skeptical but not pushing it. “Mm-hmm. Sure.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, the quiet filling the space between his teasing and your flustered silence. His presence was warm beside you, grounding in a way that made your racing thoughts slow just a little.

“You’re weird, y’know that?” he said suddenly, his tone lighter.

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Most people would’ve run for the hills by now. But you? You’re still here. Still all...” He gestured vaguely at you, his lips quirking into an almost affectionate smirk. “...you.”

Your cheeks burned, and you glanced away, hugging your knees to your chest. “Well... I guess I just like being around you.”

He didn’t respond right away, and when you glanced back, you caught a flicker of something soft in his expression before he covered it up with his usual bravado.

“Whatever, angel,” he muttered, ruffling your hair as he stood up. “Don’t go breaking anything while I’m gone.”

You huffed, smoothing your hair back down as he sauntered off, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

This birthday was going to be perfect. He might tease you for being so earnest, but you knew deep down he’d appreciate it. Because underneath all the posturing, Ronin cared—maybe even more than he let on.

And you? You cared too. Enough to try, to surprise him, to make this the best birthday he’d ever had.

Ronin extended his hand to you, still grinning from ear to ear, his laughter tapering off into soft chuckles. You took his hand, and he effortlessly pulled you to your feet, the smirk on his face never faltering.

“You good?” he asked, tilting his head, clearly still amused by your earlier reaction.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, brushing yourself off and trying to recover what little dignity you had left. “And for the record, you’re terrible for scaring me like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the worst,” he teased, his voice dripping with faux arrogance. “But admit it—you’d miss me if I wasn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed you. “Anyway,” you said, trying to steer the conversation, “I actually... prepared something for you.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow quirked, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “Prepared something? What, like food?”

“Yes, like food.” You placed your hands on your hips, trying to act exasperated. “I thought maybe you’d like a decent meal for once, instead of... I don’t know, whatever you scrape together while you’re out doing... whatever it is you do.”

His grin widened, and he stepped closer, leaning in just enough to make your pulse quicken. “You cooked for me?”

You nodded, cheeks warming as you looked away. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s not like I do this every day.”

“Well, color me impressed,” he said, leaning back with a lazy smirk. “Guess I’ll have to see if it’s edible first.”

“Ronin!” you huffed, playfully smacking his arm.

He laughed, stepping aside and gesturing toward the kitchen. “Lead the way, chef.”

The two of you moved to the kitchen, where you’d already plated the food you made. Ronin eyed the spread, his expression unreadable as he took it all in.

“Looks good,” he admitted, surprising you. But as he leaned forward to inspect it, he added, “Though I didn’t get any blood on my mouth today, so I’m not sure if it’ll hit the spot.”

You froze for a second, his casual tone catching you off guard. “Uh... you mean...”

“Killing,” he said nonchalantly, grabbing a fork and poking at the food. “Been doing a lot of it lately. Guess you noticed, huh?”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. “Well... yeah. I mean, you’ve been, uh, busy. Is there... a reason for it?”

Ronin’s hand paused, his fork hovering just above his plate. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, his usual playful demeanor seemed to dim.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said finally, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch.

“Okay,” you said softly, nodding like the obedient little toy he seemed to think you were.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, and then he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You’re cute when you do that, y’know. All wide-eyed and nodding like that. Like you’re afraid to push me too far.”

“I just...” You trailed off, unsure how to respond.

He smirked again, leaning forward to ruffle your hair. “Relax, angel. I’m not gonna bite—unless you ask me to.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly changed the subject. “You must be tired. Why don’t we do something fun instead? Take your mind off... whatever it is.”

Ronin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Fun, huh? What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Something. Anything. Just... not work. You deserve a break.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Alright, how about this—are you free tomorrow?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Good,” he said, his smirk growing. “Then clear your schedule. I’ve got plans for us

After dinner, the night began to wind down. You stretched your arms over your head, stifling a yawn as you cleared the plates and tucked them into the sink for tomorrow’s version of you to handle. Ronin was already on his way to the bedroom, casually stripping off his hoodie as he went. You didn’t miss the way his muscles moved under the dim light, but you quickly turned away, trying not to overthink it.

As you tidied up a few last-minute things, the thought of sleep became more and more appealing. But not before you indulged in one of your newfound comforts: stealing Ronin’s clothes.

You grabbed one of his oversized hoodies from the back of a chair and slipped into it, the fabric smelling faintly of motor oil, leather, and something distinctly him. It hung loosely on your frame, swallowing you in its warmth. Pairing it with a pair of shorts, you shuffled toward the bedroom, relishing the small joys that came with being close to him.

When you entered, Ronin was already sprawled on the bed, scrolling lazily through his phone. His legs were crossed, and he looked like the epitome of someone who didn’t have a care in the world. You stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him, before a familiar urge bubbled up.

“Alright,” you said, placing your hands on your hips. “Bedtime.”

Ronin raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sound like my mom. What’s next, tucking me in?”

You grinned, already making your way to his side of the bed. “Exactly that.”

He groaned, exaggerated and dramatic, but didn’t stop you as you grabbed the blankets and started fussing over him.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind his words.

“And yet, you’re letting me do this,” you teased, tucking the blanket snugly around him like he was some kind of overgrown child.

He rolled his eyes but stayed still, indulging you with a resigned sigh. “Happy now?”

“Very,” you replied, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. “Good night, Ronin.”

Turning toward the couch on the far side of the room, you started to make your way over, already mentally preparing for the uneven cushions.

But before you could settle in, you felt a tug on your wrist. You looked down to see Ronin’s hand gripping yours, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“Going to sleep?” you replied, a little confused by the question.

“On the couch?” He tugged again, gently this time. “You’re my partner now. Why are you still sleeping over there?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected him to address it so directly. “I... I didn’t think you’d mind,” you said softly. “I just—”

“You just what?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but there was a weight to it, an insistence that you answer honestly.

You hesitated, your free hand fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I thought... maybe you’d prefer it that way. Because of... you know.”

Ronin’s expression darkened slightly, but his grip on your wrist didn’t falter. “Because of Ther?” he asked bluntly, cutting through your hesitation.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to make you feel like I was... trying to replace them. I know I can’t. And I wouldn’t want to. I just... I thought maybe it’d be easier for you if I kept some distance.”

He let out a long breath, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist. “What do you think of me?”

“What?”

“I’m asking what you think,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re the one who’s scared I’m hung up on someone else. Do you think I’m the type to do that to you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I don’t think you’d ever see Ther in someone else. You’re... you’re not like that. You care too much, even if you don’t like showing it.”

He smirked faintly at that, but the seriousness in his eyes didn’t fade.

“I just...” You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I know you loved them. And I know I’m not them. But that’s okay. I don’t need to be. I’m just happy I get to be part of your life, even if it’s not the same.”

For a moment, Ronin didn’t say anything. His eyes searched yours, his usual post-ironic mask slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something raw underneath.

Then, slowly, a grin broke across his face, though it was softer than usual. “You’re something else,” he said, shaking his head.

You smiled back at him, feeling a little lighter. “So... we’re okay?”

“More than okay,” he said. “But if you think I’m letting you sleep on that couch again, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Before you could protest, he tugged on your wrist, pulling you toward the bed. You stumbled slightly, but he caught you, his hands firm yet gentle as they guided you onto the mattress.

“Ronin—”

“Nope,” he said, cutting you off. “No arguments. You’re staying here.”

You looked at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. “Unless you’ve got a problem with it.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “No problem.”

“Good.” He shifted to make room for you, pulling the blankets over the both of you. “Now get some sleep, angel.

The quiet settled in as you nestled closer against Ronin’s chest, his steady heartbeat a soothing rhythm that lulled you into a sense of security. For all his sharp edges, Ronin had a warmth to him, one that you craved more than you liked to admit. His arm draped loosely around your waist, his hand resting on your hip, and you could feel the slight tension in his hold, like he wasn’t entirely sure how much was too much.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him, your fingers absentmindedly toying with the hem of his hoodie. “Ronin?”

“Hm?” His voice was muffled, his eyes half-lidded, but you could tell he was still awake.

“Can I ask you something?”

He groaned softly, cracking one eye open. “You’re not about to get all serious on me right before bed, are you?”

“No,” you said quickly, your voice soft. “It’s just... something I’ve been thinking about.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push you away. “Alright, spit it out.”

You hesitated, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “You’re really... um, touchy, sometimes. Like, not in a bad way! I mean, I like it.” You tripped over your words, your face heating up as you tried to explain. “I just... you seem like you need it. A lot.”

Ronin let out a low, dramatic groan, throwing his head back against the pillow. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re not seriously analyzing my cuddle habits, are you?”

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed but also determined to ask. “I’m not analyzing! I’m just curious. Is it... a thing for you? Being touchy, I mean.”

His eyes flicked back to you, and for a moment, you thought he might brush it off with one of his usual sarcastic comments. But instead, he sighed, his hand running through his plum-colored hair.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “Guess you could say I’m a bit touch-starved. Always have been.”

You blinked up at him, tilting your head. “Touch-starved?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what it means,” he said, smirking slightly. “I’m not gonna spell it out for you.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no, I know what it means! I just... I didn’t think you’d say it like that. You’re so... you.”

He snorted, his fingers tapping lightly against your hip. “Yeah, well, even I’ve got my shit, alright? Not exactly a lot of hugs going around in my past. So, sue me if I’m a little touchy right now."

He stiffened for a moment, then narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t start with me.”

“What?” you said, feigning innocence. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

“You’re not teasing,” he said flatly. “You think you’re teasing, but you’re not.”

You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. “I totally am!”

He let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “Kid, you don’t have a teasing bone in your body. It’s cute, though. Like watching a puppy try to bark for the first time.”

You frowned, trying to think of something witty to say back, but your mind drew a blank. Instead, you settled for sticking your tongue out at him, which only made him laugh harder.

“See? Case in point,” he said, his smirk widening.

You huffed, turning away from him, but his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its usual sarcasm. “I’m not complaining. You being... you? That’s what makes it good. So don’t go trying to change it, alright?”

You turned back to him, your cheeks warm as you nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head. “Now go to sleep before you make me say more sappy shit.”

You smiled, nuzzling closer to him. “Good night, Ronin.”

“Night, angel.”

Ronin stretched out on the bed, his body heavy with the kind of groggy satisfaction that came from sleeping far longer than he usually allowed himself. He blinked a few times, his gaze shifting to the empty space beside him. You were gone.

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and he rubbed at his face. Fresh air, maybe? he thought, letting his arm flop onto the bed. He wasn’t the clingy type, a mantra he didn’t quite believe but stubbornly repeated anyway. Touch-starved, not needy EVEN NOT THAT!, he muttered internally, rolling out of bed.

Still, the quiet absence in the room felt louder than it should have. As he threw on his hoodie and padded down the hall, he shook his head.

Shut it, Ronin

His own voice in his mind was sharp, scolding. They’re not your lifeline, and you don’t need someone to hold your damn hand through every second of the day.

He paused at the door to the garage, his gaze drifting over the tools hanging neatly on the walls. Ironic, wasn’t it? How someone like him, who prided himself on rejecting everything Christianity had tried to hammer into his skull, found solace in someone like you. A figure who seemed to embody everything he’d hated about faith: hope, forgiveness, devotion. Yet, here he was, falling into step with you without ever realizing it. You weren’t an answer to a prayer—Ronin didn’t pray anymore. But somehow, you’d become something he couldn’t deny. Something he hadn’t planned. You left everything for him too. He knows it was for your own good according to him.

But-----

He scoffed under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair as he turned toward the basement. A flicker of movement caught his attention, and he followed it, his boots creaking against the wooden stairs as he descended.

There you were, sitting cross-legged on the floor with your phone, the screen glowing faintly in the dim light. You were so focused you didn’t even hear him approach until his voice broke the silence.

“What the hell are you doing down here?”

You flinched so hard your phone nearly flew out of your hands. “Jeez, Ronin!” you said, clutching your chest. “Can you not sneak up on me like that?”

His smirk spread slowly, a smug, lopsided thing. “I wasn’t sneaking. You’re just jumpy. Seriously, though. The basement? What’re you doing?”

You scrambled to your feet, your cheeks flushing as you shoved your phone into your pocket. “Nothing! I just… needed some fresh air.”

Ronin raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning even more stupidly amused. “Fresh air? In the basement? Yeah, sure. Makes perfect sense.”

You huffed, brushing past him and heading for the stairs. “I needed to think, okay? That’s all. Now go shower or something. I’ll make breakfast.”

He followed you up the stairs, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, his grin never fading. “You speed-walkin’ away like that doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’ What were you really doing, huh? Secretly plotting my downfall? Finding new ways to make me eat actual vegetables?”

You whirled around at the top of the stairs, pointing a finger at him. “Ronin, I swear, if you don’t go take a shower right now, I’m not making you breakfast.”

He leaned against the wall, tilting his head as he looked at you with a mock pout. “A threat? Really? That’s what we’re doing now?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “Because you’re being insufferable, and I have important things to do.”

“Important things,” he echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Like what? Let me guess, you’re planning to—”

“Go. Shower,” you interrupted, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You probably smell like… like murder or something.”

He laughed at that, a low, gravelly sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “Murder smells better than you’d think, angel.”

“Ronin!”

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going. But this breakfast better be worth it, or you’re never living this down.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as he finally turned toward the bathroom. As the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a sigh of relief. He was impossible, but… he was also Ronin. And that was enough to make you smile as you headed for the kitchen.

Ronin leaned back in his chair, his plate of food mostly untouched as he watched you. You were fidgeting with your phone, tapping your fingers against the floor, your knee bouncing with a restless energy he didn’t usually see in you. You were distracted, anxious—he could tell. The corner of his mouth twitched downward.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it, like he was fishing for something.

You froze, your eyes snapping to his like you’d been caught red-handed. “Nothing,” you blurted, clutching your phone to your chest. “Just… nothing important.”

His brow arched. “Yeah? ‘Cause you look like you’re planning a jailbreak or something. Come on, show me.”

You shook your head so quickly it was almost comical. “No, please don’t ask,” you said softly, your voice almost pleading.

That stopped him in his tracks. He wasn’t sure if it was the tone or the look in your eyes, but something about it made him back off. “Alright, fine. Keep your secrets,” he said, grabbing his fork and focusing on his plate instead.

The tension eased slightly as you took a breath, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there. But then, you stood abruptly, brushing your hands on your pants like you were gearing up for something.

“I’m going out,” you said, your voice a little too chipper.

Ronin’s fork clattered against his plate as he stared at you. “You’re what?”

“I’m going somewhere. It’s… important,” you said, heading toward the door before he could ask more questions.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “The hell do you mean ‘important’? Since when do you have places to be? All you know is this house. What’s so important you’re just up and leaving now?”

You hesitated, your hand on the doorframe, and then turned back to him with a nervous smile. “It’s something I saw online, and I’ve wanted to check it out in person for a while. I’ll be back, don’t worry.”

Ronin squinted at you, his confusion evident. You weren’t making any sense, and that only made him more suspicious. But the way you smiled at him—genuine, if not a little nervous—made him hold his tongue.

“Fine,” he said after a long pause. “Go do… whatever. Just don’t get into trouble.”

“I won’t!” you chirped, practically skipping toward your room to get dressed.

Ronin stayed at the table, staring at your empty seat with a frown. He’d told himself over and over that he wasn’t the clingy type, but your sudden departure left a sour taste in his mouth. It wasn’t like you to leave like this, especially not after you’d been so jittery all morning. And after the fall? You barely left the house unless it was with him.

He drummed his fingers against the table, muttering under his breath. “The hell is this about?”

The thought of following you crossed his mind for a split second, but he dismissed it just as quickly. He wasn’t that petty. Besides, you weren’t the type to run off and… see someone else. No, this was something different.

Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. His birthday was tomorrow, and while he’d never been the kind of guy to care much about celebrating, he’d been looking forward to spending the day with you. It wasn’t about the gifts or the attention—it was about having someone who actually gave a damn.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe you really had found something online and decided to check it out. But that didn’t explain why you’d been acting so weird.

he sat there, his thoughts swirling, he couldn’t help but feel a little… disappointed. For someone who claimed they didn’t care about birthdays, he sure was hoping this one would be different.

Meanwhile, in your room, you were frantically changing into something casual but nice, your heart racing as you double-checked everything you needed. You weren’t great at lying to Ronin—he could read you like an open book—but you’d managed to keep your plan under wraps.

Tomorrow was his birthday, and you wanted to make it special. Not just for him, but for you, too. It was the first birthday you’d get to celebrate with him as his partner, and you were determined to make it memorable.

As you slipped out of the house, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for leaving without telling him the truth. But if you could pull this off, it would all be worth it.

Ronin, meanwhile, stayed seated at the table, his thoughts gnawing at him. What the hell is going on? he thought, rubbing at the back of his neck. You weren’t one to keep secrets, and the fact that you had one now was driving him insane.

He didn’t know where you were going, but he wasn’t about to follow. He wasn’t that guy. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what you were up to—and why it felt like it had something to do with him.

After you left, Ronin found himself standing in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips, staring at nothing in particular. He muttered to himself as he finally picked up his plate and tossed the leftovers into the trash.

“Off doing some secret mission,” he grumbled. “You’re getting soft, Ronin. Too soft.”

Shaking his head, he decided to push the thoughts aside. There was work to do, after all. His garage was already buzzing by the time he headed out, and he quickly threw himself into fixing up bikes and cars, his usual clientele trickling in.

For the first couple of hours, he let his mind go blank, focusing only on the familiar rhythm of the tools in his hands. But as time went on, a different kind of restlessness crept in. Every time a customer walked through the door, he’d scan them, sizing them up, seeing if there was something interesting about them. Someone who deserved to end up on the wrong end of his crowbar.

Unfortunately, the day was as dull as they came. No one stood out—not even the cocky guy with a busted muffler who tried to haggle the price down.

Ronin sighed as he wiped the grease from his hands, watching the man leave. “Boring,” he muttered under his breath. “Pathetic. You’re all safe today, losers.”

After a few moments of silence, Ronin’s phone buzzed. His face lit up with a smirk as he saw the notification—his server chat, where he and his lovely crew always kept things lively. He opened it, and the first thing he saw was Luca’s message.

Luca (username: Luca): "So, how's your dear Angel from the sky?

Ronin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight chuckle that escaped him. Luca never changed.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Pathetic, Well, your opinion doesn’t matter, now does it?"

Feli (username: Felicite): "I hope they're fine? "

Ronin scrolled down, his phone lighting up with Angel's message right after.

Angel (username: Angelicc): "Hey, where’s Y/N? I thought you two were together today?"

Ronin paused for a moment, thinking about how to answer. He didn’t want to mention anything about you leaving; he didn’t want them to see that as a crack in the perfect image he liked to keep up. Not yet.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "They left. Said something about seeing something online. You know how they get."

Misaki responded almost immediately, and Ronin’s lips curled up into a smirk as he read her message.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Better not be some man/woman thing. You know Y/N’s too innocent for that, right? Can barely handle an app without getting confused."

Ronin snorted in amusement, knowing it was true. You were still getting the hang of apps, and there were so many times he’d had to explain things to you in the past. But he loved that about you, how... innocent you still were in that regard. He felt protective, even though he didn’t always show it.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "You’re giving them too much credit. They’re too dumb to even deal with that. They’re clueless about half the apps on their phone. But sure, let’s pretend it’s some big mystery."

Misaki shot back quickly.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Not really dumb. Pretty cute, actually. Wouldn’t you agree, Ronin?"

Ronin rolled his eyes. Misaki never could resist teasing him.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Yeah, they’re cute. That’s about it, though."

The messages from the server continued to pour in as he scrolled, his attention flicking between his phone and the work he had to finish. That’s when V’s message appeared in his inbox.

V (username: K9): Why do you sound so gloomy? Everything alright, Ronin?

Ronin’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the message, unsure if he should respond. V had always been quiet, and his sudden concern felt out of place. Why would V care?

He typed back quickly, trying to brush it off.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Yeah, I’m fine. Just dealing with some shit, nothing new. No need to worry about it."

But V didn’t let it go. Instead, he sent a follow-up message that immediately caught Ronin off guard.

V (username: K9): Seriously, though. You ever thought about what Misaki said? About Y/N?

Ronin stopped in his tracks, staring at the screen. What the hell did Misaki say? He hadn’t even processed it fully. Was V really pulling this line of questioning?

He smirked, typing his reply with his usual post-ironic attitude.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Since when did my angel start caring about Y/N?"

V (username: K9): It’s not about that. Just wondering if you’ve really thought about it. You’re kind of in deep with them, huh?

Ronin couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. He quickly typed out his response, brushing it off as he always did.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "No, I haven’t thought about it. Even if it’s true, I don’t care. Doesn’t change anything. Just a person, right?"

There was a brief silence on V’s end, but before Ronin could move on, Misaki’s message came flooding in.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Even if you think so, Ronin, you’re way too defensive. And don’t get me started on how cute Y/N is. No one else would look at them like you do, and you know it!"

Ronin’s smirk twisted into something more genuine. He didn’t mind their teasing—it was part of the game. But Misaki was right about one thing: you were special. He just didn’t have the words to explain it. Hell, even he didn’t fully get it.

He paused for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard again. Then, with a shrug, he typed.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Alright, alright, sure. But you all know what I’m about. Y/N can be anyone. They’re not the only one in my world."

There was a brief pause before Luca decided to chime in.

Luca (username: Luca): "Is that the case? Because I’m not so sure, man. I think you’re just mad because they left to go check something out. Don’t tell me it’s all part of some big plan to be ‘post-ironic’ again."

Misaki, though, immediately defended you, even if they hadn’t met you in person.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Don’t be an asshole, Luca. You know nothing about Y/N. You don’t get to say shit. Even if I haven’t met them, I can tell that Ronin wouldn’t be the way he is if they weren’t worth it."

The chat immediately went quiet after that, all eyes seemingly on Ronin to respond.

Ronin just sat there, his phone in his hand, considering his words carefully. Did they really think he didn’t know? But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t just a game like the others. You were his own twisted, confusing connection—and that was something no one in this chat could ever truly understand. He finally typed.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Yeah, maybe you’re right. Whatever, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it. We’re good."

And with that, he leaned back, the phone buzzing with more messages from the others, but his mind was elsewhere. Even if he acted like he didn’t care—hell, even if he convinced himself he didn’t—there was something different about you, something that made him want to keep this mess going. And for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing… or the worst thing to ever happen to him.

The air in the mall buzzed with a mix of soft music and distant chatter. You hadn’t expected to spend the day shopping, but something inside you knew you needed to find the perfect gift for Ronin. The kind of gift that wasn’t just about the usual routine, but something that spoke of your own emotions—something personal. It felt strange, this need to get him something that would signify the bond between you two, but you couldn’t shake the thought. After all, he was unpredictable, dark, and elusive in a way that made you want to prove your place in his chaotic world.

You walked into the store, the doors chiming softly as you entered. It was a gothic-themed boutique, filled with black velvet, chains, silver jewelry, and intricate designs that seemed to speak to a part of you that mirrored Ronin's own twisted love for all things dark and bizarre. A shopkeeper, a young woman in her mid-20s with sharp eyeliner and a soft, almost mischievous smile, greeted you immediately.

"Hello there! You’ve come to the right place," she said brightly, clasping her hands together. "We’ve got all sorts of goth accessories. Are you looking for something special today?" She leaned in closer, her excitement almost contagious.

You hesitated, but her enthusiasm made you smile. "I’m looking for something for someone," you replied, trying not to give away too much. "Maybe something… meaningful?"

"Oh, I love that," she gushed, nodding enthusiastically. "We have so many things that could symbolize, like, special connections!" She started leading you to the display, her eyes practically gleaming with the knowledge of all the dark, romantic pieces the store had.

The first thing she showed you was a set of chokers, each one adorned with gothic symbols and sharp, silver spikes. There was a particularly striking one that had Devil May God Forgive You engraved on it in intricate cursive. The leather strap seemed almost too harsh, too forward. You almost smiled, wondering if Ronin would appreciate it—or if he’d mock you for it.

"That one’s a classic," the girl said, catching your eye. "But maybe you want something a bit more, uh, subtle? We’ve got the sorry Christ one, if you’re feeling more... repentant." She winked at you as she pulled a smooth, black velvet choker from the shelf, adorned with a small silver cross, almost like a twisted apology.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. "Maybe not that one." The thought of Ronin wearing something like that made you feel both embarrassed and amused.

She didn’t seem deterred and moved on to the next set, showing you a row of necklaces with heavy silver chains, pendants shaped like daggers, skulls, and moons, each one glinting under the soft lighting of the shop. But nothing seemed right.

You continued browsing, feeling the weight of several bags already hanging from your arms. You had picked up a few things along the way—nothing for Ronin, but a few trinkets that spoke to your own taste, like a black mesh top that would look stunning on you and some more accessories for yourself. As you walked past rows of velvet jackets, platform boots, and studded gloves, your eyes landed on a small glass case in the back.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black satin, was a set of earrings—one pair stood out above the rest. They were elegant, simple, but undeniably gothic. Two ruby stones set in dark silver, their deep red hues striking against the cool tones of the metal. The moment your eyes fell on them, you felt a tug in your chest. That’s it.

The shopkeeper, noticing your gaze, practically floated over to you. "Ah, I see you’ve found them! Those are our best sellers." She gave you a knowing look. "Ruby stones symbolize pure love and passion, you know. I think that’s exactly what you’re looking for, right? Something that shows just how deep that connection is." She smiled sweetly, her voice softer now, almost as if she were reading you.

You blinked, a little startled by her insight. "Yeah, I think so," you replied, reaching for the case. The cool metal of the earrings felt smooth between your fingers, and you could almost feel them calling to you.

"Those are beautiful," the girl said, eyes sparkling with excitement. "And trust me, the stones are very meaningful. It’s like a declaration of something deep, something eternal. I think your person will absolutely love them." She grinned at you, her smile wide and warm, but her eyes seemed to be probing a little more than necessary, reading the situation in a way you couldn’t fully place.

"I’ll take them," you said quickly, not wanting to waste another second.

"Perfect choice!" she replied, practically bouncing as she wrapped the earrings carefully in black tissue paper, placing them into a sleek, black gift bag with a silver ribbon.

You grinned at her, almost feeling the weight of the gift in your hand before it was even given. There was something about the way she treated you like a kindred spirit that made the whole experience feel oddly... intimate.

After she handed you the bag, you spent the next few moments gathering the other bags you had collected during your impromptu shopping spree. But your attention kept flickering back to the earrings, the symbolism of the ruby stones, and how Ronin would react. It felt almost like you were giving him a piece of your own heart, a little piece of something that, no matter how dark, still burned with passion and meaning.

Once you had everything packed, you gave the shopkeeper a smile, and she waved goodbye with a kindhearted "Good luck!"

You wandered deeper into the mall, the weight of your shopping bags growing heavier with each store you visited. The bags clinked softly with various treasures you’d collected—everything from clothes with edgy prints to accessories that screamed emo-geek chic. Mesh tops, studded belts, and fingerless gloves found their way into your collection, along with some black denim and a hoodie that looked like it belonged in a gothic fairytale.

Every piece you picked out reminded you of Ronin in some way, as though each item was a part of a puzzle that would make him smirk or—if you were lucky—maybe even smile.

Then, you stumbled upon a quaint, old-fashioned sewing-on-the-spot shop tucked away in a quiet corner of the mall. The sign was hand-painted, the letters slightly faded, and the interior smelled faintly of lavender and aged thread. Curious, you stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling softly.

Behind the counter, an older woman with sharp eyes and nimble fingers sat, stitching something intricate onto a fabric square. Her gaze flickered up at you, assessing, before she offered a small nod of approval.

"Well, well," she said, her voice raspy but kind. "Haven’t seen one of your kind here in a while. What can I do for you, youngster?"

You hesitated, looking around the shop. "I was wondering... could you help me make something? A, um, beanie?" Your voice wavered slightly, but the old woman raised an eyebrow and set down her needle.

"Beanie, eh? What kind of beanie are we talking about? Don’t tell me it’s one of those devilish ones," she said, half-joking, though her tone carried a touch of judgment.

You blushed, feeling heat creep up your neck. "Actually, yes," you admitted sheepishly, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of one of your bags. "With little horns, maybe?"

The woman let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Kids these days," she muttered, but there was no malice in her voice. She motioned for you to come closer. "All right, let’s see what we can do. Pick a fabric."

You chose a soft, black material, perfect for a cozy yet rebellious look. As the woman worked, she couldn’t resist making little comments.

"Back in my day, we didn’t need to wear things with horns to stand out," she said, her hands moving expertly as she sewed. "Just a good attitude and a strong heart. Not like these flimsy trends now."

You couldn’t help but smile nervously, nodding along. "Yeah, I guess things are different now." You hesitated before adding, "It’s actually for my... boyfriend." The word felt strange on your tongue, almost foreign, but at the same time, it warmed your chest. Boyfriend. Was that what Ronin was?

The old woman paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of surprise and amusement. "Boyfriend, huh?" she echoed, her voice teasing. "Well, aren’t you the sweetest? Making something by hand, no less. That’s rare these days. He better appreciate it."

You blushed harder, feeling the weight of her words. The thought of giving Ronin the beanie, seeing him wear it, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "I hope he likes it," you said softly, your fingers brushing against the edge of the counter.

As the woman finished sewing, your ring finger caught on a stray needle, and you winced as a sharp sting jolted through your hand. A single drop of blood welled up on the tip of your finger. The pain was fleeting, but the odd thing was the spot it hit—right where a ring might go.

"Careful," the woman scolded gently, handing you a tissue. "Don’t want to ruin that pretty finger of yours."

You nodded, murmuring a quiet thanks as you dabbed at the small wound. For a moment, you stared at your finger, an odd ache blooming in your chest. It was as if the sting wasn’t just physical. Maybe it was the weight of all these emotions, or the fact that you were human now, no longer the celestial being you once were. It felt heavy, strange, but also... right.

"All done," the woman said, holding up the finished beanie. It was perfect—soft, black, with two small devil horns stitched on top. You smiled, your heart swelling with pride and gratitude.

"Thank you," you said, taking the beanie and carefully placing it in one of your bags.

Your next stop was the hardware store. The clean, metallic smell of tools and equipment greeted you as you stepped inside. You immediately made a beeline for the mechanics section, knowing exactly what you were looking for.

You grabbed a brand-new set of tools—everything from wrenches to screwdrivers—then spotted something that made you pause: a crowbar. It was sleek, black, and looked like it was practically made for Ronin.

He’d love this, you thought, picking it up. As you turned it over in your hands, you couldn’t help but imagine him holding it, smirking that cocky grin of his as he teased you about your thoughtfulness.

By the time you left the store, your arms were weighed down with even more bags, but your heart felt light. Between the beanie, the earrings, and now the tools and crowbar, you felt like you were putting together pieces of a puzzle that only Ronin would fully understand.

You entered the cake shop, the sweet, sugary scent of fresh-baked goods wafting through the air and immediately making your stomach growl. The shop was warm and inviting, with a cozy little kitchen at the back where customers could make cakes from scratch on the spot. It had a rustic charm, with wooden counters and old-fashioned decorations that made it feel like a place where magic could happen—where you could create something special with your own hands.

As you approached the counter, one of the ladies behind it looked up and smiled warmly at you. "Oh, how cute! You're going to make a cake? And for your boyfriend, you say?" Her voice was sweet and almost teasing, but there was genuine warmth in her eyes as she looked at you.

"Yeah... it's his birthday tomorrow," you replied softly, feeling a blush creep up your neck. It felt a little strange saying it out loud, but the words "my boyfriend" felt more real every time you said them. You smiled at the thought of Ronin, his dark eyes, his sarcastic smirk... and that weird, almost tender side of him that you knew was there.

"Well, aren't you sweet? A special cake for a special guy. What are you making?" she asked, clearly eager to see your creation.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. "I think... an apple crumble cake. I found a recipe from someone... she’s really good at baking. It’s a surprise."

The lady's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Apple crumble cake, huh? That sounds delicious! Well, we'll make sure you do a fantastic job. Just follow the steps and take your time."

You nodded, feeling reassured. This was your chance to make something perfect for Ronin. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him enjoying something you made just for him.

With a deep breath, you rolled up your sleeves and began.

Apple Crumble Cake Recipe Steps:

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). You carefully adjusted the oven, feeling a slight excitement building in your chest. It was the first step to making the cake come to life.

2. Prepare the crumble topping. You took a bowl and combined the dry ingredients for the crumble. You mixed together 1 cup of flour, 1/2 cup of sugar, and 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon. Then you added 1/2 cup of cold butter, cutting it into chunks before using your fingers to rub the butter into the dry ingredients until it formed a crumbly texture. The buttery scent filled the air, making your mouth water in anticipation.

"Looking good!" the lady behind the counter said, noticing your progress. "You're doing great!"

You smiled shyly and continued, feeling a little more confident. You set the crumble aside, ready for the next step.

3. Prepare the apple filling. Next, you peeled and sliced 3 medium apples, cutting them into thin pieces. You sprinkled 1 tablespoon of sugar and a pinch of cinnamon over them, tossing them together in a bowl to coat the apples evenly. The sweet aroma of the apples mixed with the cinnamon made you feel cozy, almost nostalgic.

4. Mix the cake batter. In another bowl, you combined 1 1/2 cups of flour, 1 teaspoon of baking powder, and a pinch of salt. In a separate bowl, you whisked 1/2 cup of sugar and 1/4 cup of softened butter until creamy. You added in 2 eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Then, you alternated adding the dry ingredients and 1/2 cup of milk, mixing until the batter was smooth and thick.

5. Assemble the cake. You greased the cake pan and poured the batter into the bottom, smoothing it out evenly. Then, you carefully arranged the apple slices on top, creating a beautiful layer of apples. Finally, you sprinkled the crumble mixture over the apples, making sure every bit of the cake had a sweet, crunchy topping.

"You've got this!" the lady cheered as you placed the pan in the oven. "Just bake it for about 45 minutes, or until the top is golden and the cake is cooked through."

You set the timer, your excitement building as you imagined Ronin's reaction. The cake was still baking, but you could already picture him, leaning against the counter, that smirk tugging at his lips as he took the first bite.

As the cake baked, the sweet smell of apples and cinnamon filled the shop, making your stomach rumble again. The lady at the counter was busy helping other customers, but she occasionally glanced over at you, giving you encouraging smiles.

When the timer finally went off, you carefully pulled the apple crumble cake from the oven. The golden topping and the caramelized apples glistened in the soft light of the bakery, and you couldn't help but feel proud. It looked perfect—just like the surprise you wanted to give Ronin.

"Wow, that looks amazing!" one of the other ladies exclaimed as she came over to inspect. "You're a natural!"

You blushed, feeling shy again. "I hope he likes it."

They all gathered around, admiring the cake with smiles, their eyes twinkling with warmth. "He’s going to love it," the first lady said, "and it’s so sweet of you to make it for him yourself."

You grinned, feeling a wave of happiness wash over you. Despite all the nerves and the uncertainty about Ronin's feelings, you knew one thing for sure: this cake, this surprise, was your way of showing him just how much you cared.

"Thank you so much for your help," you said, handing over the empty bowls and utensils. "This really means a lot to me."

"No problem at all, sweetie!" the lady said, her voice full of affection. "You come back anytime if you need any more help."

With a cake box in hand, filled with your creation, you left the shop, feeling more confident than ever. You had the perfect gift for Ronin, and you couldn’t wait for tomorrow to see his reaction.

It was going to be a birthday he would never forget.

You were struggling to carry all the bags, your hands full of everything from gothic jewelry to new mechanics equipment and the ingredients for the cake you’d just made. The weight of it all made your arms ache, and you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed as you tried to juggle everything. You were so focused on keeping everything from falling that you didn’t hear your phone ring at first.

When you finally glanced at the screen, you saw Angel’s name flashing in bold letters.

"Hey," you answered, trying to sound casual as you shifted the bags in your arms, feeling your fingers beginning to cramp. "What's up?"

"How are you?" Angel’s voice came through, light and cheerful, but there was a slight teasing undertone. "Seems like you left Ronin’s early this morning, huh?"

You bit your lip, trying to focus on walking straight without tripping over your own feet. "Yeah, just bought stuff... a lot of stuff," you said, a sigh slipping from your lips. "I don’t even know how I’m gonna carry all this back."

Angel laughed lightly. "Sounds like you’ve been busy," she teased. "You know, if you want, I can get a taxi for you. Just send me your address, and I’ll make sure you’re all set."

You glanced around, the thought of navigating the rest of the trip home with all this in hand was making you more exhausted by the second. "It’s fine, really. I can manage," you said, though your voice had a slight tinge of defeat. It wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate her offer, but you didn’t want to seem like you couldn’t handle it.

"Okay, but seriously, let me know if you change your mind. Don’t be stubborn," she replied with a chuckle, then her tone shifted slightly. "So, um… do you think it’s okay if the server keeps Ronin tomorrow for a while? I mean, just to give you some space, you know? It’s his birthday, and… well, I was thinking it might be nice if he gets a little time with the others."

You paused for a moment, contemplating her question. It was a small thing, but it was also a little strange to think about. "Yeah, that’s fine," you replied, your voice a little softer now. "Ronin’s not the type to care about stuff like that. He probably won’t even notice."

Angel’s voice was warm, a little teasing but understanding. "Well, I’m sure you’ll make up for it later," she said with a wink in her tone. "You’ve got all that cool stuff, right? And that cake—he’s gonna love it."

You smiled at the thought, the cake was a simple thing, but you were so proud of it. "I hope so," you replied. "I just... wanted to do something nice for him."

Angel's voice softened. "I know you do. And I think he’ll really appreciate it. But hey, if you’re ever overwhelmed, you know you can always reach out, okay? I’ve got your back."

"Thanks, Angel," you said quietly, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. "I appreciate it."

you were walking, your thoughts still scattered between the bags, the cake, and tomorrow’s plans, you suddenly felt a jolt—someone bumped into you, knocking into your arms. The bags in your hands swayed dangerously, and for a second, you thought everything was going to fall, the cake included. You gasped, eyes wide as you fumbled, barely managing to catch everything in time.

“Woah, sorry,” a deep voice rumbled from behind you. You froze. That voice. You knew it all too well.

You slowly turned, looking up to find a man standing before you. His dark, piercing gaze met yours, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat in confusion and wariness. V.

He looked at you, his expression unreadable, before speaking in that familiar gravelly tone that always sent shivers down your spine, “I’ve seen you before, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

Your mind raced. V? The same V who hated Ronin? The one who had crossed paths with him multiple times, their rivalry simmering just beneath the surface, full of unspoken tension? Your instinct told you to be cautious, to step back, but you tried to keep your composure.

“It must be a coincidence,” you muttered quickly, trying to brush past him. You didn’t want to deal with this right now. Ronin’s strange behavior, the looming sense of tension you’d been feeling—it was all enough without running into V at this exact moment.

But V’s next words stopped you in your tracks. “Stop,” he said, his voice low, almost commanding, like Batman on a bad day. There was a certain weight to it, something that made you freeze even though you didn’t want to.

His intense gaze stayed locked on you as he stepped forward, taking some of the bags from your hands. You hesitated, feeling a strange knot form in your stomach. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—it was just… unsettling. The tension between him and Ronin was something you could never ignore. You didn’t want to get caught in the middle of whatever that was.

“You’re carrying a lot,” he said, his tone still dark, but strangely softer now. “Let me help you.”

For a moment, you considered refusing, but there was something about the way he said it, his presence overwhelming in that strange way, that made it difficult to refuse. Reluctantly, you handed over a few more bags. As he adjusted the weight, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he carried them, his strength almost unnerving. The silence between you both felt thick, oppressive.

You looked away, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling growing inside you. "Thanks... I guess," you muttered, trying to move on. “I’ve got it from here.”

V didn’t say anything for a moment, but then his eyes flickered toward you, and you felt like he was seeing right through you. Something about the way he observed you made your skin crawl a little. It wasn’t malicious, exactly, but it felt like he was studying you—like there was something about you he was trying to figure out.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, his voice softening just a little. “You look... a little off. I’ve seen that look before. You don’t have to hide it.”

You blinked, startled. “What look?” You hadn’t realized you’d been so transparent, but there was something about his presence, something in the air, that made you uneasy.

He seemed to smile, though it wasn’t one you could read. “It’s nothing.” He stepped back, giving you space as you adjusted the bags, your heart racing slightly. “But be careful. Not everyone is who they seem to be.” His voice had taken on a warning tone now.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you nodded, unsure of what to say. Was he warning you about Ronin? Was he talking about the things that had been on your mind all day?

“Thanks for helping,” you said, your voice uncertain but polite as you tried to turn away, ready to get back to your task and leave this strange encounter behind you.

V didn’t follow you, but his eyes stayed on you for a beat longer than you’d expected. You walked away quickly, feeling that unsettling gaze on your back, and for a moment, you thought you could still feel it—the weight of someone’s eyes, watching, tracking you.

It was almost as if it reminded you of Ronin, of how he would sometimes seem to observe you while you slept, even though you knew he was just close, close enough to keep you safe in his twisted way.

But you shook that thought away. That was probably just your mind playing tricks on you, wasn’t it? Ronin wouldn’t do anything weird. Right?

You fumbled with the bags, feeling the weight of them pulling on your arms as you approached the house. The familiar sight of Ronin's garage was there, quiet and dim. But as you approached the front door, something caught your attention—there was an unusual silence. The door was locked. You frowned, pulling out your keys, only to realize you had forgotten them inside.

A brief pang of frustration hit, but you dismissed it quickly. No big deal, you could sneak in through the basement. The back door wasn’t locked, after all.

You shuffled toward the side, carefully placing the bags down so they wouldn’t spill open, the cake still nestled in its box, precariously balanced between them. It wasn’t easy carrying all this, but the thought of making Ronin happy, especially with his birthday right around the corner, kept you motivated.

You crouched and entered through the basement door, the cool air immediately wrapping around you like a cloak. It was a little darker down here than you expected, but you didn’t mind; you were used to the shadows. The basement felt like a safe haven to you, hidden from the rest of the world.

But as you moved deeper into the cluttered space, your foot caught on something. Tires. They were placed in a rough pattern, almost like they were meant to trip someone up. Before you could stop yourself, your foot slipped, and you stumbled forward, bags flying out of your grip.

The cake box hit the ground with a dull thud. You gasped, feeling the tears rise at the thought of the cake being ruined, all your hard work for nothing. You quickly knelt, fumbling to check on the condition of the cake. You hadn't realized the position it had fallen into yet, but you couldn't think about that too much. You needed to make sure it was still in one piece.

"Dear Maria!" you muttered under your breath, but before you could stand up, a pair of hands wrapped around your neck from behind, fingers tightening in an almost suffocating grip. Your breath hitched, panic flooding you instantly. You didn’t have to see who it was to know. You’d felt his presence before.

Ronin Beaufort.

“Where the hell were you?” His voice was low, demanding, the usual mix of frustration and something darker. “What were you doing with V?”

You froze, the air squeezing from your lungs. You hadn’t expected him to catch you here, not like this. You felt your heart race, and your thoughts scrambled, trying to find the right words. You hadn’t even known V was following you, or why he was even there. “I—I don’t know,” you stammered, the words tumbling out. “It’s nothing. I didn’t even know it was V until I saw him in person. He just bumped into me. I swear, I didn’t do anything.”

Ronin’s grip tightened for a second, as if to gauge the sincerity of your words. The tension in the air between you both was suffocating, his presence so overpowering it was almost like he could feel every little movement you made.

But then, just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, his fingers loosened, and he pulled away. You gasped for air, blinking rapidly, the relief short-lived as you tried to make sense of what just happened.

Ronin stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes unreadable, before he spoke again. “Sit.” His voice was flat, but the command still rang in your ears. “Sit in the chair.”

You glanced up, your eyes still a little wide from the shock. The chair in the corner was always a spot he used for moments like this, though you didn’t exactly know what to expect. You hesitated for a second, then slowly shuffled toward it, feeling like a puppet on strings, your body moving of its own accord.

You lowered yourself onto the chair, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. The bags were scattered, and the cake—it had fallen. You didn’t dare to look at it fully yet, too scared of what you might find.

Ronin didn’t sit; instead, he remained standing, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes flickered toward the box that had once held the cake. “What the hell is going on with you?” he asked again, his voice softer, but no less piercing. "You’ve been acting weird."

You felt your stomach twist at his question, not sure how to answer. You wanted to explain that it was just a moment of panic, a slip of the mind, but the truth was, the feeling had been building for a while now—this strange tension, this overwhelming sense that you weren’t sure of anything anymore. You didn’t know how to explain that to him, or if he would even understand.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I... I’m fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. But deep down, you weren’t sure if you were lying to him or to yourself.

Ronin stood there, arms crossed, his usual detached expression masking whatever turmoil was swirling beneath the surface. The basement was dim, and the faint light from the overhead bulb cast harsh shadows across his features. His posture was slack, but his eyes—his eyes were sharp, always watching, always searching for the tiniest crack to slip his hand into.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of your apology settle in your chest. The tension between you both felt like a thick fog, pressing down on everything you wanted to say, but you forced yourself to speak through it.

"Ronin… I’m sorry for what happened the other day. Brushing you off like that… I know it was wrong. But there was a reason behind everything. It might sound like an excuse, but… will you listen?"

He raised an eyebrow, the typical edge in his voice softening, if only slightly. His usual demeanor was more guarded, but you saw a flicker of curiosity beneath the hardness. Still, his reply came with a bite.

"What is it, darlin’? Better not be some bullshit reason. I won’t forgive you if it’s bullshit."

Your heart pounded. You could almost feel the weight of his eyes, scrutinizing you, as if he could see through every single hesitation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Tomorrow’s your birthday, right?"

His gaze hardened instantly, but the surprise in his eyes was unmistakable. You could feel the weight of his surprise hanging in the air. It was the first time in a while you had seen him at a loss for words, and for a moment, you thought he might break that post-ironic façade of his.

You continued, not letting the sudden shift in his expression distract you. "That’s why I wanted to celebrate. So I’ve been preparing this whole time. I was talking to Angel, looking through shops that could maybe help with the cake… I was debating what would make for a good present. I… I really wanted it to be a surprise."

He was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, as though he was running over your words, trying to understand the meaning behind them. His eyes softened just a fraction, and for a moment, you thought maybe you were getting through to him. But then, his voice cut through the silence—laced with confusion and that familiar edge of sarcasm.

"Then why didn’t you tell me?" His tone held an odd mix of frustration and disbelief, as though the concept of you keeping something from him didn’t quite sit right. "What the hell do you mean 'you wanted to surprise me'? You didn’t think I’d want to know?"

You bit your lip, guilt gnawing at you. "Because I wanted it to be a surprise, so I figured it would be better if you didn’t know," you admitted quietly. "I’m sorry."

He let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "God," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his face with his hand. "So you’re saying because of that, I got the wrong idea and got mad without a reason? Shit… I was completely thrown by Misaki's stupidity." The confession seemed to deflate him a little. His usual bitterness faded as he took a step back, arms uncrossing as if some of the tension in his body was finally being released. You didn’t know what to say at first, but you knew you had to push through it.

"I truly am sorry," you murmured, glancing up at him through your lashes.

Ronin smirked, though it wasn’t one of his usual mocking grins. "By the way, don’t you see? I’m your average pretty anti-Christ devil Family friendly serial killer, you know?" He said it with the same post-ironic tone he always used, knowing full well how ridiculous it sounded, but that was exactly why he said it. For the rise it would get from you. "Did you really think I’d celebrate every single birthday still?" You blinked, feeling a pang of discomfort at the sharpness of his words. Still, you couldn’t help but feel the underlying vulnerability in the way he said it, like he was testing you, poking at the idea to see how you'd react.

"No," you replied softly, your voice just above a whisper. "Even if you are one… even if you are someone else, it’s still your birthday. And I… I think it’s important." You hesitated for a moment, your fingers twitching slightly. "It’s the day you were born into this world, after all. I’m happy to be with you. That’s what matters to me."

His eyes flicked to you, their depth now unreadable. The room was silent for a few moments, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the corner. For a split second, you thought maybe he would brush it all off, that usual detachment settling back in.

But then, a small, almost imperceptible shift happened. Ronin’s eyes softened, the sarcastic edge fading. "Don’t go acting all sweet on me, alright?" he muttered, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if it was admiration or something darker, but you saw a trace of something real in his words. His expression didn’t soften entirely, but you could feel the walls he’d put up around himself, crumbling just a little.

Ronin’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. The tension in the air shifted, becoming thick with something unspoken as his eyes drifted down to your hand, where your ring finger had a faint bruise from earlier.

Without saying a word, Ronin reached out, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently held your hand. You blinked in surprise, not expecting him to do anything about the injury, but when he leaned down and pressed a soft, almost hesitant kiss to the spot where you’d hurt yourself, a shiver ran up your spine.

“What…?” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, heart fluttering at his sudden gentleness.

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he gently licked the spot where the wound had been, as if trying to soothe it, his eyes never leaving yours. The act was unexpected, but his usual edge of sarcasm was replaced by something almost tender.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Put a small bandage on it. You don’t need to make a big deal out of it.”

You hesitated, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. "It’s a small wound," you said, trying to downplay it, but his gaze hardened slightly as he pulled back.

“Shut up,” Ronin snapped, though his words were softer than usual. There was no malice in them, just a kind of raw affection that he wasn’t quite ready to admit. He then let out a small sigh, his lips curving into a smile that was rare but real. “You’re lucky I’m even treating you like this, darling.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his gruffness, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “Okay…” you replied innocently, your voice almost teasing despite the situation.

Just as you were about to say something else, a loud alarm suddenly blared from your phone. The sound sliced through the moment, making you jump in surprise. You glanced at the screen, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the notification.

Midnight Bell. It’s his birthday.

You froze for a moment, eyes wide in realization. Your breath caught in your throat, and a burst of excitement rushed through you. It was finally his birthday. The moment you had been preparing for had arrived.

Ronin, for once, didn’t seem irritated by the sound. Instead, his eyes darkened slightly, as if he had been expecting this moment too. “Well, well,” he said, his voice low, a dangerous smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “It’s about time, huh?”

"Ah… the midnight bell…" you muttered, your hands trembling slightly as you glanced at the time.

Ronin's voice was a drawl, almost bored as he stared at you, but you could hear the subtle amusement beneath it. “...The date changed.”

You laughed nervously, fumbling for words. “It’s your birthday! Congratulations, Ronin!"

"Yeah..." he replied, voice quiet, almost indifferent, but you could see a faint smile tugging at his lips. The sort of smile that made your heart skip a beat, despite yourself.

Your thoughts quickly turned to the cake. Present? You thought. Oh no... I forgot the cake... The panic surged within you as you realized what you’d done. “Aahーー!!”

Ronin’s eyebrows raised slightly at your sudden outburst. " What’s your problem!? Suddenly shouting like that..."

You tried to steady your breath. "The cake... I forgot I dropped it..."

Ronin's gaze shifted to the side where the box lay carelessly on the counter. "Cake? ... could it be that box laying over there...?"

You winced. "Y-Yeah... When I tried to come sneakily but you.. I accidentally..."

"God..." he muttered, shaking his head but not with anger, more like exasperation. It was almost endearing in a twisted way.

You lowered your head, feeling embarrassed. "S-Sorry!!"

Ronin gave you a look that could’ve been a warning, but then his lips curled into a smirk. "Pfft! You're making a funny face. ...There we go."

He effortlessly walked over to the box, picking it up with a casual motion. You couldn’t help but watch him. The cake had obviously been ruined by the fall—cream spilling out from the sides, a far cry from the masterpiece you’d envisioned—but Ronin seemed unfazed.

He tilted the box toward his face, his gaze flicking between you and the cake. The squirt of cream against his finger was almost… intimate. He tasted it with a smirk, licking the finger clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Well... it’s a little ruined, but it’s not bad, you know?" Ronin said, his voice dark and laced with amusement.

You stood there, unsure how to respond, staring at the disaster of a cake. "I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to..."

He leaned in, his expression sharpening into something more dangerous, more teasing. "Tch. Don’t apologize so much. It’s not the end of the world, darling. But now..."

The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional chuckle that escaped Ronin’s lips as he leaned back against the headboard. The cake—though squashed and imperfect—lay between you both, a symbol of the night’s chaotic charm. You’d tried to make everything perfect, but it seemed you were always a step behind with Ronin, always stumbling, always flustered.

It was his birthday now, and you still couldn’t shake off the worry that you hadn’t quite done enough.

You sat across from him, hands shaking slightly as you tried to prepare the cake. "Ah... Well, here it is," you said, the corners of your mouth curling up nervously as you presented the nearly ruined cake. "I—I’m sorry it’s not perfect..."

Ronin, with that same signature smirk of his, peered at the cake before his eyes flicked to you. "Tch, you’re making that face again. No need to apologize." He let out a chuckle, leaning over and inspecting the cake as if it were something strange he’d never encountered before. "It’s fine. I’m gonna eat this one."

You blinked, taken aback. "You will?"

"Why not? It’s your hard work, right?" Ronin teased, then grabbed the box from the table. "Let’s see what you made for me."

You tried to suppress your smile as he leaned back on the bed, unceremoniously digging into the cake, licking the spilled cream from his fingers with a casualness that both startled and excited you.

"See? Not so bad after all," he muttered, flicking his eyes toward you. His eyes softened a bit—just a bit. "Don’t sweat it."

You nodded, relieved, though there was still a sense of nervousness running through your veins. "Actually... I have a present for you, too," you murmured, feeling the rush of embarrassment flush your face. You hadn’t expected to feel so vulnerable tonight, but Ronin had a way of making everything feel... amplified.

"A present?" Ronin arched a brow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I’m listening."

You took a deep breath before reaching over and pulling out a small, carefully wrapped box. The ruby earrings inside glimmered softly under the dim light. "I... I noticed you always wear one in your right ear, so I thought this color would suit you."

Ronin’s gaze flicked over the gift, his expression unreadable at first. Then, with a brief chuckle, he responded, "Fitting for me... Hah. This gemstone’s bright red, just like your blood, after all."

You paused, stunned for a second. "W-What?"

He waved it off, his smirk never fading. "Kidding. It’s fine. The color... it’s fitting."

The words hit harder than you expected. "It’s passion," you added softly, your fingers brushing against the delicate box. "And pure love... something like that."

Ronin’s eyes softened, just a fraction, as he looked down at the earrings. "Passion, huh... Pure love..." He chuckled lightly, the sound soft but carrying that familiar edge. "Thanks."

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest as the conversation shifted.

"Let’s just eat the cake already," Ronin muttered, clearly not in the mood for any more speeches. "I’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but tonight’s special."

You smiled as you picked up a fork, cutting a piece of the cake. "Alright, alright, let me just get you a piece."

As you handed him the piece of cake, Ronin leaned back and gave you an almost bored look, his eyes half-lidded. "Hmph. No offense, but eating it like this would be boring."

Your brow furrowed, confused for a second. "What do you mean?"

"Feed me," Ronin said, his voice almost mocking, though there was an unmistakable demand to it.

You blinked, your stomach flipping. "Eh!? No way!"

"Why not?" he said with a raised eyebrow, not even bothering to look at you directly. "You’ve been going on about listening to me, right? Well, now it’s time to put that into action. Don’t make me repeat myself."

You felt heat flood your cheeks, but before you could protest further, Ronin was already leaning forward, cutting a fresh piece of the cake for you.

"Here," he said, holding the cake up to your lips. "Open up."

You blinked, feeling your heart race as you stared at the piece of cake hovering just in front of your mouth. It was absurdly intimate, and yet, in some twisted way, it felt... natural. You could already feel the edge of Ronin's gaze on you, and there was no escaping that look.

You sighed, giving in. "Fine," you murmured, opening your mouth just enough for him to feed you.

As you took the bite, your heart pounded even faster. Ronin’s eyes never left you, his smirk returning in full force as you chewed the cake slowly.

"Good, huh?" he teased, his voice low and almost dangerous.

You nodded quickly, trying to suppress the nerves threatening to spill over. "Y-Yeah. It’s good."

Ronin watched you for a moment, amused by your flustered state. "Now it’s your turn," he said, his eyes glinting. "Feed me."

Your eyes widened. "No way! That’s—"

"Do it," he growled, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. "You said you’d listen, didn’t you?"

The command in his voice was unshakable, and despite your reluctance, you found yourself leaning forward, holding the cake between your fingers and lifting it to his lips.

"Alright, alright," you muttered, your face flushed with heat. "Ahn."

Ronin’s eyes gleamed as he leaned in, accepting the cake, his gaze sharp and possessive as he chewed slowly, savoring the moment. "There we go," he murmured. "Now we’re even."

You swallowed, trying to control your racing heart. It wasn’t the cake or even the birthday celebration anymore—it was something else entirely.

Ronin leaned back on the bed, wiping his mouth lazily with the back of his hand after finishing the last bite of the cake. A grin stretched across his face, almost too smug. "Heh. Is that all?" he teased, the tone in his voice making it clear he was enjoying every second of your flustered state.

You, however, had a different idea. Your smile widened with something darker, more playful. "Not quite," you said, standing up and brushing crumbs off your lap as you moved toward the door. "You see, I may have something else for you... something more... interesting."

Ronin’s eyebrows arched, clearly intrigued, though he didn’t rise from the bed just yet. "More?" he asked with a mix of amusement and suspicion.

You only gave him a sly grin before disappearing out the door, reappearing moments later with bags—bags upon bags, the weight of them evident as you dragged them behind you.

Ronin’s expression shifted. "What the hell is all this?" His voice held a note of both amusement and disbelief as you began pulling the bags one by one into the room. "You’ve got more of this stuff hidden in your basement?"

You nodded, smiling sweetly as you placed the first bag next to him. "Oh, there’s a lot more downstairs," you said casually. "I figured you’d like them."

Ronin’s eyes widened, his interest piqued. "A whole damn basement full of... what, presents?"

You shrugged, not bothering to give away all your secrets. "You can say that. I figured I should really get something special for you. You know, for all the things you’ve done."

Ronin just stared at you as you unloaded the contents of the first bag, his gaze narrowing as he saw the items in front of him. First, there was a beanie—black, perfectly styled, just like the one he always wore. He couldn’t help but smirk, though there was a slight confusion in his eyes.

"Nice," he muttered, running his fingers through it. "But, uh, I’m starting to wonder... how many damn bags do you have?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you continued pulling out more bags, each one filled with more extravagant, bizarre items: dark, emo clothes, studded jackets, chains, ripped jeans, and layers upon layers of black fabric that screamed both punk and chaos. Ronin looked at them, then back at you, eyes flicking with disbelief. "What... is all this?"

"And..." you said with a dramatic pause, pulling out something else, "your crowbar." You placed it next to him with a flourish, like it was the final piece of a grand display. "A new crowbar separately for your work, the one you’d want."

Ronin blinked, his gaze switching from the crowbar back to you. He was visibly taken aback, mouth slightly agape. "How the hell did you get all of this stuff, Y/N?"

You sat down beside him on the bed, your fingers lightly brushing against his as you gave him a sly, confident look. "Well... let’s just say I saved up all the tips you gave me."

His eyes widened further. "You—what? How long has this been going on?" He let out a low whistle, his disbelief turning into a mix of admiration and something close to shock. "I didn’t realize I was such a great tipper."

You shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Hey, it’s fine. ." You leaned forward, your voice lowering as you added, "It’s just... the least I could do."

Ronin’s expression softened, though there was a tinge of something else in his eyes—something like warmth mixed with the confusion of being overwhelmed by your unexpected generosity.

He looked down at the piles of presents in front of him, the crowbar, the clothes, the beanie, everything carefully picked out and perfectly fitting for his twisted sense of style. After a long pause, his voice finally came, gruff but sincere. "Thank you," he muttered, meeting your eyes. "This... this is a lot. I didn’t expect... all this."

You smiled, your hand resting gently in his as you gave a soft squeeze. "It’s nothing, really. You’ve given me so much... I just wanted to give back." Your voice softened as you added, "I’ll always find a way, even if it means saving every penny for months."

Ronin took a deep breath, trying to suppress the emotions welling up in him. He shook his head, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his usual smug facade. "You’re insane,"

Ronin smirked, leaning back against the counter as you nervously brought the slice of cake closer. His plum-colored hair framed his face, and those sharp eyes of his glinted mischievously as he leaned in.

Now, He wants to shut up!

"Good, just like that, transfer it to my mouth…" he murmured, voice dripping with playful mockery.

Your cheeks flamed as you complied, but before you could even think of pulling back, Ronin’s lips grazed the fork—and your fingers, on purpose, of course.

"Mmm… Nn…" he mused exaggeratedly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as you fidgeted.

"Ronin! Seriously—!" you protested, pulling your hand back.

He leaned in closer, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "What? You’re blushing like crazy, darling. Was it that good?" He chuckled darkly. "Gotta say though… it was delicious."

You turned your head, already flustered, but his gaze pinned you in place.

"Wait, darling," he said casually, his voice dropping. "You’ve got some cream stuck on your mouth. Sit still. I’ll get it for you."

Before you could react, his thumb brushed over your lips, but instead of wiping it away, Ronin leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste the sweetness from your skin.

"Nn… Sweet," he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Ronin! " you gasped, trying to squirm away, only for him to suddenly push you back against the counter.

"Ah—!"

"Damn…" he muttered, pinning you beneath him, his breath hot against your ear. "It’s your fault for moving, darling. You know better than to disobey me."

"Let me up—!" you stammered, your heartbeat thundering as he hovered over you.

"Not a chance." His voice was low and teasing, laced with a hint of danger. His eyes burned into yours, and his smirk widened. "Now that you’ve got me all riled up… how about I skip the cake and gobble you up instead, hmm?"

Before you could even muster a reply, he leaned in, sinking his teeth gently into the crook of your neck.

"Ah—!"

Ronin groaned softly against your skin, savoring every moment. "Damn, darling… The cake was good, but this…" He licked his lips as he pulled back slightly, his breath hitching. "Your sweetness puts that lovely apple crumble to shame."

You tried to catch your breath, your fingers gripping his arms weakly. "R-Ronin… the cake… your presents—"

He silenced you with a low chuckle, his face impossibly close. "I don’t care about the cake. And the gifts? Yeah, those are nice too, but they don’t compare to you, darling. You’re the best damn thing anyone could’ve given me."

"R-Ronin…"

He pressed another kiss to your neck, humming softly. "Never thought I’d give a damn about my birthday, but if this is what it’s like… I could get used to it."

You felt your resolve wavering, his words melting into you like honey. "T-Thank you for being born, Ronin…" you whispered. "I love you."

His movements stilled for a moment, his gaze locking with yours. "Say that again, I love you too." he demanded softly.

"I love you," you repeated, your voice trembling.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "Good." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a ghost of a kiss. "Now, darling…" His tone dropped dangerously. "Don’t think for a second I’ll ever let you leave my side. You’re mine. Forever. Got it?"

His hand clasped yours tightly as he murmured against your lips, "I’ll treasure you, darling—always."

Forever, indeed.

A dream, A shame, the last thing you remember is being.....hit by the same man, you found peace out.

Hey why..?

Was I that painful to you? Did I become boring to you?

Or Did you give me the peace I wanted..?

[kixrru]

Angel Fanart <3

game is Killer Chat by @rosesrotofficial :3

she is so pretty omgomgomg she's such a girlboss I love her

the lighting & background on this one was so tricky man and I think my Ronin fanart's background was more fun to draw, but I still rlly love how this turned out.

[kozomi]

[arsenicapplecore]

this was such a great game!! these are unfinished for now. The art for the CG's and the sprites was so lovely, i take much inspo <3

[https-z4l4toris-707]

Have some ronin in acrylic colored markers LOL

(my first time using them so I fucked up the skin tone😭)

[elysiaheaven]

Maybe Ronin X cannibal reader? But the reader hides it and our fav boy discovers them in the middle of "grabbing dinner"?

Happy halloween!-Ronin x Cannibal reader!

TW: Blood, Gore, Cannibal (reader), Cannibal jokes, Mention of body parts etc

"Bon Appétit" — Ronin x Cannibal!Reader

Ronin always knew something was off about you. Not in a bad way—just different.

Maybe it was how you always turned down dinner invites with a lazy excuse, or how you avoided restaurants altogether like they were some kind of trap.

It was a quiet night. Too quiet for Ronin’s liking. Normally, by now, you'd be spamming his phone with some dumb memes or asking if he wanted to hang out. But you’d gone radio silent.

He moves silently, the familiarity of sneaking around fitting like a second skin. Crowbar tucked loosely in his hand, boots crunching against the dusty floor.

He rounds a corner, and there you are—squatted low, your back to him, hands deep inside a body that still twitches, like a machine winding down. Blood coats your hands, sleeves stained from wrist to elbow. And the sound—the wet, ripping tear of flesh and sinew—makes something stir in him.

You’re so focused that you don’t even hear him. It’s almost funny. Almost cute.

He leans against the doorway, a smirk slowly curling on his lips.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here?"

You freeze. Every muscle in your body locks up, heart slamming in your chest. For a brief, foolish second, you think about pretending. Saying it’s not what it looks like, that you tripped and—yeah, no, that won’t work. You’ve got chunks of someone’s kidney in your hands.

Slowly, you turn your head, blood splattered across your face, meeting Ronin’s amused, knowing gaze. And shit, the way he’s looking at you—it’s not disgust, not fear. It’s something far worse: entertainment.

"Grabbing dinner without me?" he teases, cocking his head. "Kinda rude, don’t you think?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the calmness in his voice. "This isn’t... It’s not—"

Ronin cuts you off with a sharp laugh, like the situation is the funniest thing he’s seen in weeks. "Relax, sweetheart. You’re not the only freak in the room."

He steps closer, the crowbar tapping lightly against his thigh. The corpse at your feet is still fresh—blood pooling across the floor, the metallic scent thick in the air. But Ronin? He doesn’t flinch.

"Didn’t think you had it in you," he muses, crouching next to the body. His dark eyes flick between the dead man and your stained hands with an expression that can only be described as impressed. "Guess I underestimated you, huh?"

You stare at him, mind scrambling for some kind of response—some way to salvage the situation. But Ronin’s grin only widens, like he’s already five steps ahead of you.

"So... you always eat 'em like this, or is tonight a special occasion?" His voice is playful, like he’s making small talk about the weather.

"Relax, sweetheart," he interrupted smoothly, crouching down beside the dismembered body, inspecting the work with genuine curiosity. "You didn't really think you could hide this from me forever, did you?"

You shot him a glare, though it felt more like a defense mechanism than anything. "It’s not what it looks like."

“Oh no, it’s exactly what it looks like." Ronin’s grin widened. He leaned closer, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. "You’re a freak."

Your heart skipped, panic simmering beneath your skin. "Don’t tell anyone."

Ronin snorted, clearly amused by your fear. "Oh please. What am I, a snitch?" His plum-colored hair fell into his eyes as he tilted his head, studying your expression. "I’m not here to rat you out, babe. I'm here to see what makes you tick."

You didn’t know if that was more reassuring or terrifying.

Then he reached out, swiping his thumb across your cheek to wipe away a streak of blood. He held his thumb up, inspecting it like an artist admiring a brushstroke. “You’re messier than I thought you’d be. Kinda cute, actually.”

You slapped his hand away, scowling. "This isn't a joke, Ronin."

“Oh, it’s not?" His grin remained infuriatingly intact. "Could’ve fooled me. You're acting like this is some big shameful secret." He gave a mock gasp, eyes wide with exaggerated horror. "Oh no! Reader’s a cannibal!"

"Ronin—" You started, but he was already laughing.

"Relax, I’m not judging." He smirked, straightening up and brushing his hands off on his pants. “Not my place to tell you how to live your life. I mean…” His gaze flickered to the half-eaten remains. “At least you have good taste.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exasperated. "You’re impossible."

“And you,” Ronin replied smugly, leaning in close enough that you could feel his breath against your neck, "are way too cute when you’re trying to look innocent."

Your stomach twisted—whether from embarrassment, guilt, or something much darker, you weren’t sure.

Ronin knew exactly what he was doing. Knew how to make your skin crawl and your heart race all at once. And the worst part? You liked it.

He clicked his tongue, patting your cheek with mock affection. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your little secret’s safe with me."

he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, tossing you one last grin.

"You know, if you were hungry... you could've just told me."

Your breath catches, caught between the weight of his words and the dangerous glint in his eye. He tilts his head, watching your reaction with interest, like you’re some puzzle he can’t wait to solve.

"Next time," Ronin says, dragging the crowbar lightly across the floor, "let me help."

Your heart stutters at the offer—half a threat, half a promise.

Then, as casually as if he’s offering to grab takeout, he adds, "I’d love to see how you do it up close."

You blinked, stunned into silence, as he sauntered off into the night—like walking in on a literal crime scene was just another Tuesday.

And somehow, you knew—without a doubt—that this wasn’t the last time Ronin would come snooping around about this.

The next time you saw Ronin, he came bearing… gifts.

The sun had barely set when you heard a knock—three soft taps against the flimsy metal door of the same old building you'd started using as your… dining room. You knew it was him before you even opened it. Only Ronin knocked like he owned the damn place.

And sure enough, there he stood on the other side, a mischievous grin stretching across his lips. But what made your stomach drop (or maybe growl) was what—or who—he had slung over his shoulder.

"Look what I found," Ronin said cheerfully, like he was showing off a stray dog. "Nice and fresh."

The man groaned—still alive, barely—but Ronin adjusted his grip on him like he was nothing more than luggage.

You stared. "Ronin, what the hell—?"

"Relax," he cooed, brushing past you like this was some kind of surprise party. He dumped the man onto the floor with a careless thud, crouching beside him to give the guy’s cheek a little pat. "This one won’t be missed. Scumbag. Thought I’d save you the trouble."

You crossed your arms, feeling a mix of dread and something uncomfortably close to excitement swirl in your gut. "You’re really okay with this?"

Ronin shot you a sly grin, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Let’s just say… I’ve got a flexible moral code." He stood, nudging the guy with the toe of his boot. "Besides, I figured—if you're going to do this, might as well have some company, right?"

The man groaned again, half-conscious, as Ronin turned to you. His gaze softened just a little—just enough to make your stomach flip. "You gotta eat, babe."

You swallowed thickly. "I don't think—"

Ronin stepped in close, tilting his head so his lips were almost brushing your ear. "C’mon, sweetheart. No use playing shy now. You’ve already got blood on your hands."

His voice was low, warm—like a devil tempting you to cross the line you were already standing on. And the worst part? You wanted to. You really wanted to.

He leaned back, hands in his pockets, watching you with that lazy grin. "Or do I need to feed you myself?"

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. "I can handle it, idiot."

"That's the spirit," he chuckled, stepping aside to give you room to work. "Now let’s see those culinary skills in action."

The hunger gnawed at you, sharp and insistent, and before you knew it, you were crouching beside the man, the world narrowing down to the sound of his shallow breaths and the promise of iron on your tongue.

Ronin crouched next to you, utterly unbothered as you began. His hand brushed lightly against your back—comforting, almost affectionate—as if this were some intimate little date instead of… well, this.

He stayed close, watching with fascination as you fed, his smirk never wavering. When you paused to catch your breath, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, he tilted his head and grinned.

"You look good like this, y’know."

"Shut up," you muttered, though the heat in your face betrayed you.

He rolled his sleeves up lazily, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, sweetheart. Open wide."

You shot him an incredulous look, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I can feed myself, Ronin."

"Yeah, yeah. But where’s the fun in that?" he teased, plucking a choice piece from the victim’s bloodied arm like he was sampling charcuterie at some upscale event. "C’mon, let me spoil you a little. You earned it."

The way his voice dipped sent a chill down your spine—like this was a game to him, and you were the star of his twisted little fantasy. It was equal parts infuriating and… intoxicating. He was good at that, pulling you in just enough to leave you breathless, unsure whether you wanted to kiss him or hit him.

"Ronin—"

Before you could protest further, he pressed the piece of flesh against your lips, grinning wickedly. "Say ‘ahh.’"

You glared, but the hunger gnawed at you relentlessly, and damn it—he looked so pleased with himself, like this was the most romantic thing he could do. With a heavy sigh, you parted your lips. His smirk widened.

"There we go," he murmured, almost reverently, as he slipped the morsel into your mouth. "Tastes better when someone feeds you, right?"

The warmth of the meat, the metallic tang still lingering on your tongue—it sent shivers down your spine. But the worst part wasn’t the taste. It was him. The way he looked at you with a blend of admiration and possession, like you were his favorite meal.

"Good, yeah?" he whispered, as if he needed the confirmation.

You bit down slowly, savoring the taste and the strange thrill of it all. He watched every movement—eyes dark and full of satisfaction—like he'd just pulled off the most intimate act in the world. And maybe, in his twisted way, he had.

"See?" he whispered, wiping a stray drop of blood from your lip with his thumb. "Told you I’d take care of you."

You swallowed, the heat in your chest spreading, equal parts shame and satisfaction.

"You're enjoying this way too much," you muttered, voice low.

Ronin just chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "And you love that about me."

And as much as you hated to admit it… he wasn’t wrong.

He fed you again, slow and deliberate, like this was some dark, sacred ritual between the two of you. Each bite came with a grin, each touch a silent promise—he would never judge you for what you were. Hell, he loved it. He thrived on it, the corruption, the intimacy, the shared depravity.

When the meal was over, you leaned back, exhaling a shaky breath. Ronin wiped your mouth again, his touch lingering.

"Feel better?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

"Yeah," you admitted reluctantly.

His grin widened, a spark of triumph flashing in his eyes. "Good." He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. "Next time, I’ll pick someone even better."

You knew you should feel horrified. You knew you should push him away. But instead, you smiled.

"Deal."

Now, you know Ronin wasn't the man of his words. He's a snitch. That just told your secret to Angel, You know both of them were close, You just felt happy Ronin could share some things from his chest.

But, he did snitch you.

Happily, Angel was your type so, same blood in the same habit?

Later in the server. In the channel where all past Ronin's past and present love interests reside (literally)

#ur-angel-or-yuor-devil-or writer darlin who's a maneater

[Angelic]- I can't believe you're actually a cannibal y/n...

[You]- Fucking Beaufort.

[Goreboy]- Darlin, you Have a Friend now. Angel will be very happy right now. she has gotten a new best friend.

[Angelic]- Don't bully them, Ronin.

[Goreboy]- I'm not, This just Made Y/n x 666 Interesting! I have a new Goal.

[You]- lemme guess, another 666 kills?

[Goreboy]- Ding Ding, Have you ever eaten a detective? Your deduction skills are ultimate. You're Right, But, It's for you. 666 kills for you darlin! Be prepared. As a good Boyfriend it's only Valid that I gift you something Like this. Mark NeXT's year V-day.

[You]- .......................

[Angelic]- Never thought, He will become seriously damned this much.

[Goreboy]- Tho, It's interesting how the past lover and the present lover is both Cannibal. My god this is a miracle.

[Angelic]- Hey, Y/n? Have wanna the devil for dinner? He's speaking too much isn't he?

[You]- Be my guest angel, Also yes.

[Goreboy]- Getting Eaten by Two Angels. No Thank You. This is such a Boring Way to Die.

[You]- then just shut the fuck up edgy-boi

[Goreboy]- You Have to Face my Bullshit Darlin, Be prepared from now On, Cause shit- you need to realize it's a Lifetime relationship.

[You]- Thank god, I took lessons from Miss Ai hua to deal with people like you. Apparently she used to use memes to shut up Mr. Vince,

[Goreboy]- Oh? You think A meme? can Stop me?

[You]- I believe it's the person in the meme is our god 'twink'

[Angelic]- I get it.

[You]- Ronin, I love you but God Christ, Please shut up for now.

If you speak tormenting me and angel, I will compare you to JD because of the twink reason. If you think the meme was unfunny. I wasn't talking about the meme Mr. Beaufort.

[Goreboy]- ........

I cease.

Congrats, you made the devil to shut up! HAPPY HALLOWEEN LOSER!

[theatrepuppet]

killer chat blinkies. credit not needed but appreciated.