#kc ronin x reader

[miyurizaki]

Mc: I couldn't betray you. I tried to tell you You said you already knew, I was as honest as I knew how to be. Ronin:Do you think I wanted to love you. Knowing where you came from and what your mission was Ronin: Don't you suppose that every hour we were together I was thinking "They're just pretending" MC: I wasn't!I love you! Ronin: and I loved you so much I let you pretend, Because you brought something to my days I couldn't stand the thought of losing.

[vandme12]

This has been rotting in my head for so long, how would the KC cast react to a powerful figure Mc? Ronin added mc because he just thought they were a writer needing inspiration, but what if they were actually a big influential figure in politics, media etc? Maybe they’ve hired Misaki before to get rid of someone? Maybe V knows them from charity meetings? How would it all unfold?

I really loved writing this! Whoever asked, Please ask me more head canons! The concept, would be they're a powerful "person" who usually gets people to kill off "bad" people! This is my longest head canon!

Ronin Beaufort!

At first, you were just a fun little distraction. Some writer looking for inspiration in the darkest parts of the world? Yeah, yeah, he’s heard that one before. But you were flirty, sharp, and a little too comfortable around him, which made you interesting.

So, he let you stick around. Took you to some bloody, brutal places, spun his words like knives, toyed with you just to see if you’d flinch.

But you didn’t.

You kept up. You even pushed back.

And damn it, he loved that.

You made things fun.

So fun, in fact, that he didn’t question it. Didn’t stop to wonder how you were able to navigate his world so easily, how you had this natural charisma that could turn heads, how your words carried weight in a way that felt… important.

He didn’t put the pieces together—until he saw your face on the news.

He’s at some dive bar, half-watching the TV, when he sees it. Some big political scandal. Some business shake-up. And right there, center screen, is you.

Your name. Your title. Your power.

His brain short-circuits.

He just stares for a good five seconds, drink frozen halfway to his lips.

“What.”

Immediate, sharp, loud laughter.

“Oh, what the FUCK?! You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

He’s laughing so hard he slaps the bar. The bartender jumps. Other people in the bar look at him like he’s crazy.

Because of course. Of course, the one person he’s been dragging into the worst places, letting into his world, kissing, touching, —

Is actually one of the most powerful people in the world.

The moment he gets his laughter under control, he’s grinning. Big. Sharp. Wild.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t this a fuckin’ surprise.”

The next time he sees you? Oh, he is not letting you live this down.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking like the devil himself.

“Sooo, babe. Anythin’ you wanna tell me? Y’know, like—what the fuck?”

If you try to act casual about it? He grabs your chin, tilts your head up, and just grins.

“Nah, nah, don’t gimme that. You mean to tell me I’ve been callin’ you ‘sweetheart’ and sneakin’ you into crime scenes, when I should’ve been callin’ you Boss?”

If you flirt back? Oh, he eats that shit up.

“Ohoho, you’re playin’ dangerous now, darlin’. You know what happens to people who turn me on and surprise me? Bad, bad things.”

He’s so into this.

Like, obnoxiously into it.

He starts calling you titles sarcastically.

“Ahh, my beloved CEO, let me open the door for ya.”

“Oh no, did my precious politician have a rough day? C’mere, lemme make it all better.”

“D’you think world leaders would shit themselves if they knew you were makin’ out with a serial killer? ‘Cause that’s funny as hell.”

But beneath the teasing? Oh, he’s obsessed.

He already thought you were a perfect match for him, but now?

Now, you’re not just smart. Not just dangerous in your own way.

You’re untouchable.

Bottom line? He is so in love with you it’s disgusting.

You’re powerful, you’re dangerous, and you’re his.

And that? That’s all he ever needed to know..

“So, what’s the play here, sweetheart? You gonna bring me down? Put me in the headlines? C’mon, gimme a scandal—make it a good one.”

If you tell him you have no intention of exposing him, that you’re here for your own reasons, he’s intrigued.

“Ahhh, so you’re just a little freak, huh? Love that for you.”

“So, tell me, baby—how’s it feel, bein’ the most dangerous person in the room for once?”

And when you smirk and say, “I’m always the most dangerous person in the room,”—Oh.

Oh, he loves you. Because it’s true, isn’t it? Ronin might be a killer, but you—you have real power. The kind of power that doesn’t need a knife to cut people down. AND that? That’s hot as hell.

Misaki

At first, Misaki thought you were just some random writer that Ronin picked up for fun. Maybe you were looking for inspiration in the darkest corners of the world, and hey, Misaki could respect that.

Until, one day, they’re watching TV in their bunker, shoveling cup noodles into their mouth, and—

Your face is on the news.

Immediate choking.

They nearly drop the noodles.

They stare.

Blink once. Twice.

Wait. What the fuck.

They scramble for the remote, turn the volume up, and suddenly, their world is spinning.

"HOLD ON—"

Because there you are, center screen, name plastered in bold letters. Some scandal, some massive political shift, some media shake-up—and at the heart of it all? You.

The person they’ve been flirting with. The person they’ve been spending nights with in calls.

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, BACK THE HELL UP—!"

They’re gripping their head, pacing their bunker, absolutely spiraling.

“You mean—you mean to tell me I’ve been flirting with someone who can LITERALLY change the world?! Oh my god—oh my god, I’m so broke, I can’t handle this—"

The next time they see you? They’re standing there, arms crossed, clearly trying to look intimidating but failing miserably because their face is still stuck in pure existential crisis mode.

“Sooo. You got anythin’ you wanna tell me, boss?”

If you just smirk and go, “Oh? You didn’t know?”

They groan loudly.

"OF COURSE I DIDN’T KNOW, YOU JERK! Oh my god, I was out here thinking you were some struggling writer, and now you’re telling me you could probably buy my entire life with a single check?!"

Cue another breakdown.

And if you’ve hired them before? Oh. Oh, that’s interesting.

“Hold on—wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me I’ve been talking to one of my clients this whole time?!”

They go through a full existential crisis.

But once the initial shock wears off? They’re intrigued.

“Okay, okay, but real talk—why the hell are you hanging out with us? You could be anywhere, doing anything, running the world, and yet, you’re here. Why?”

If you flirt with them? They malfunction.

“H-Hey, don’t distract me! This is serious! You—wait, what do you mean I look cute when I’m panicking?! That’s—STOP.”

But deep down? They FEEL KYAH!

If you say something like “Because I like you”

—They malfunction.“LIES. YOU’RE A LIAR. DON’T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT—”

But deep down? They’re kicking their feet.Because holy shit.

Someone that important thinks they’re important.

It’s the worst and best thing to ever happen to them.

Angel

At first, Angel just thought you were another charismatic, ambitious person—someone drawn into her orbit the way most people were. She didn’t question it too much. You were charming, clever, and played along with her public persona so well it was almost addictive.

Then, one day, she sees you on the news. Not in the background. Not as a guest. You are the news.

Maybe you’re a political powerhouse, a media mogul, an elite CEO—whatever it is, you’re big.

Cue an instant mental shutdown. She’s staring at the screen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and for once in her life, completely speechless.

“… Wait, wait, wait. What?!”

First, she replays every conversation the two of you have ever had, wondering how she missed the signs.

Second, she assumes you just didn’t tell her because… well, why would you? She wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

Third? Immediate concern.

Because she knows powerful people. She’s been around them.

And most of them are monsters.

But you? You’ve always been kind to her. Sweet. Playful. The same way she is with you.

…So why does this still feel like a dream?

When you finally come home, Angel is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, a frown on her lips—but her eyes are soft.

"Sooo…" she tilts her head. "Is this the part where you tell me I’ve been secretly dating royalty, or—?"

You try to explain, but she just leans closer.

"And when, exactly, were you gonna tell me that you're kind of a big deal?"

Pout. Full pout.

But she’s not actually mad. Just incredibly intrigued.

The more she learns about your influence, the more protective she gets.

She knows the price of power. She knows the pressure. The weight. The expectations.

And she knows what it’s like to need approval.

She’s quiet for a moment before reaching for your hand.

“Are you happy?” Her voice is gentle.

You nod, but she studies your face carefully, trying to find the cracks.

“You promise?”

If you squeeze her hand, reassure her? She melts.

She wants to believe you. So badly.

Angel is soft with you in ways she isn’t with the world.

She may be a perfectionist. She may be needy for attention. But with you?

She doesn’t have to perform.

She can just… be.

And that’s a rare, precious thing.

And she will make fun of you for the way you talk in "serious mode."

"Ooooh, look at you~ all professional and intimidating~"

But deep down? She’s proud.

She just expresses it through teasing.

She knows power changes people.

And she worries about that. About what it might do to you.

But she also loves you too much to let it push her away.

“No matter how big or important you are…” she murmurs, curling up against you. “You’re still mine.”

And honestly? There’s no one else in the world she’d rather love.

V

The moment, you open your video feed to see him for the first time he knows who you are.

V already knows who you are.

He’s rich. Powerful. Connected. No one reaches his radar without him knowing everything about them.

So when your face appears on his screen, he isn’t surprised.

What surprises him is the fact that you recognize him, too.

You tilt your head, lips curling into an amused smirk.

“Mr Valentin Viljoen, right? We’ve met before.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Yes. And you are—”

“I'm your kind!” you interrupt smoothly, leaning back in your chair. “Without ever spilling a drop of blood.”

That makes him pause.

His posture tenses. Just for a second.

Because… that’s not wrong.

He’s seen your name in places that matter—a ghost behind the curtains of power.

You don’t get blood on your hands.

You hire people to do it for you.

At first, he’s wary.

You are the kind of person he hunts. The kind who orchestrates death while keeping their hands clean.

The kind that believes their cause justifies the means.

And yet…

You don’t silence everyone. You don’t kill for profit or ego.

You kill corrupt politician. The ones who slip through the cracks of the system. Like him.

He watches you closely after that.

“You play God,” he says one night, his voice measured. “Deciding who lives and who dies.”

You meet his gaze, unshaken.

“So do you.”

The two of you challenge each other constantly.

You push him to see the necessity of what you do.

He pushes you to consider the weight of it.

“Your assassins are no different than the people I kill,” he says coldly. “They’re just a tool you use to maintain control.”

You hum thoughtfully. “And you’re just a weapon that wields itself.”

Silence.

A game of chess with no clear winner.

But there’s one thing he can’t ignore.

You don’t kill the innocent.

Your network, your power—it’s built on a foundation of purpose.

And whether he likes it or not…

You’re not the villain he expected.

He watches you more than he should.

He listens to how smoothly you speak, how effortlessly you manipulate a conversation without a single lie.

He hates how drawn he is to it.

“You play dangerous games,” he mutters one night.

You smirk. “So do you.”

And he hates that you’re right.

He’s used to keeping his distance.

But you make that impossible.

The sharp way you tease him, the way you dance on the edge of his moral code.

It gets under his skin.

“What the hell are you?” you ask one night, head tilted. “A hero? A killer?”

His lips press into a thin line.

“What are you?” he counters.

It happens slowly.

At first, he tells himself he’s just keeping an eye on you.

But then it becomes habit.

Seeking your voice, waiting for your messages, analyzing your movements.

He finds himself protecting you before he even realizes why.

Because the moment someone tries to take you down?

He’s already one step ahead.

“You should leave,” he mutters after taking care of a hitman sent after you. “Disappear.”

You laugh softly. “And let them win?”

His jaw clenches.

He should walk away from you.

But he won’t.

Because for all his righteousness…

He can’t let you go.

[spiderlilywritings]

Ronin Beaufort Boyfriend Headcanons

Trigger Warnings: mentions of blood, murder, gore

Well. You're in for a wild ride with Ronin Beaufort as your lover. He's not a green flag by any means, but he cares and genuinely loves you, even if he shows it in twisted ways sometimes. (Hearts drawn in blood, maybe giving you an aorta, sending pictures of his gruesome murders in #killer_shit with the caption "this for You, baby" and oh would you look at that, it's the guy that's been harassing you yesterday—)

Never runs out of nicknames for you. Will probably come up with the cheesiest/sappiest nickname just to see your reaction. It cracks him up. ("Baby. Sweetheart. Darling. Pookie. Sweet apple crumble pop with strawberries—")

If you own a vehicle like a car or a motorcycle, he's your go-to mechanic. He'll take your money and maybe a little bit extra later. ("Aww, don't give me that look, darlin'. I just wanted a kiss 's all. Hahaha!") Shows off a little bit of that muscle if you hang around while he's working. His sweetheart's there, gotta impress them right? (And if you're the type to get embarassed easily, it's more fun for him.)

Speaking of vehicles, I'm not sure if Ronin owns one, but if you do, why not take your little Devil for a late night drive? I think he'll enjoy them. Just you and him, enjoying the night air, letting the scenery pass by.

We've already seen it in the games; he's perceptive and if there's something troubling you, he'll know. He's all ears if you wanna talk about it. Or if you don't, he might think of a way to get you to open up. It's not healthy to bottle everything up after all. He's had to deal with his own issues and being stuck in your own head can be... a lot.

Sometimes, you may have impromptu late night talks with Ronin. Trading secrets and all that. Sorting out some feelings and traumas of the past. Those talks can get heavy but things always feel a bit lighter at the end. That's good, isn't it?

He's supportive. He lets you do your own thing, lets you enjoy yourself and indulge in what you love. As long as you take care of yourself too. He might even join you. ("Aren't you a cutie with that smile on your face. Come onnnnnn, show me more, baby.")

I think he'd like those silly couple shirts. The ones with lines like one shirt has "If lost, return to the bastard" and the other is "The bastard" Or just matching things in general. Maybe you want matching plushies, or jewelry, etc. He's down for it.

Learning first aid is recommended if you haven't already. At least, you'd know what to do when Ronin comes to you injured. Victims don't just lay down and wait for their fate. Of course they want to live and some will literally fight for their lives. Ronin keeps himself in shape, but some injuries are just unavoidable. He doesn't like seeing your worried face, so he's quick to ease your worries with his usual bravado.

Horror movie nights are a given. And if you're the type to scare easily (ironic since you're with a serial killer), prepare for some light teasing. Here's a not-so-secret though: Ronin loves it when you cling to him. He likes being able to feel you. Whether it's small instances like your hands brushing against his to you outright hanging onto him like a koala bear. Make him feel your warmth, that you're there. That you'll always be there. (Not. Not like— well, technically they're still— but not there. Not here. Not anymore. Just a memory now that will always haunt him. They left his heart bleeding. And then, an  "Angel" patched it up. He still bleeds a little. But it's bearable. And now. Now, you—)

Tick... tick... tick...

The sheets rustle. The clock continues to tick. Ronin hears your sleepy little murmurs as you frolicked in dreamland.

He chuckles, one of his hands moving to play with a lock of your hair. The sight of you curled up on his bed, in his damn shirt, "Darlin', if this is your way of killin' me slowly, it's working. Juuust a little."

In response, you unconsciously snuggle into his chest. Really now.

Sleeping so peacefully with a serial killer? Maybe he got rid of your sense of self preservation; maybe got some screws loose in that pretty little head of yours.

Ronin pulls you closer.

This was nice. Makes him remember those times when it was easier. As easy as it can get back in Angelwood anyway.

He left that place behind, danced in hell's flames like the Devil he is, letting rot and decay follow him. He didn't mind. Let 'em haunt him till the day he croaks.

When he closes his own eyes, he sees Ther; a reminder of what he had. Of what he lost. Feels like they'll always haunt him too. There, but not there. A spirit? An illusion? No. Maybe just that lingering love he's always going to feel for his childhood best friend.

Ther's gone.

After Ther, came Maria. Maria. Sweet, sweet Saint Maria helped him heal and move on.

And now he's got another angel in his arms. Ronin thinks that's hysterical. The Devil attracts angels it seems like. Wings and all. Letting them decay till those feathers fall and the wings are nothing but bone. It's like giving the middle finger to the good ol' god those old fashioned folks at Angelwood worshipped.

How's that for blasphemy?

[lilygoofywritingcave]

Proposing to the KC! LIs

Finally, after a few months with the serial killers, it seems you have found true love with one of them! Are you brave enough to propose and bare the "consequences", or just curious how would they react?

Misaki Katsuo, the Silly and Chaotic Reaper

Misaki is an absolute gremlin, if you ever think that proposing to them will be romantic and graceful, you're dead wrong.

Places: A rooftop overlooking the city night. We all know Misaki loves the thrill of being high up, and with the city lights below, it feels like a moment stolen from a dream. You propose while they were laughing at some dumb joke, completely catching them off guard.

Reaction: The second you reveal the ring, Misaki completely freezes. Their chaotic, silly expression fades as their hands tremble, maybe even skipped a bit of heart. Of course, her entire life has been about survival, constantly running and killing for money. No one has ever asked her to stay before.

Putting on the ring: She would try to make jokes to calm herself down: "Damn, Y/N, you're really tryna wife up an assassin? Bold." But her voice cracks as you slipped on the ring and she’s crying before even realizing it. Misaki would insist they don't need a ring that fancy and will try to sell it. But if you got them a ring from a gacha machine? They would wear it everywhere, dead serious, just like the menace she is.

Answer: "You're a dumbass. But you're my dumbass now. So yeah… let's do it." (She definitely isn't hugging the air out of you while sobbing)

Sillies: + First text to SlaughterHouse? "LOOKS WHO'S JUST GOT CUFFED!!!" + "Babe, we gotta get a weapon matching this. A wedding-themed knife set?" + Expect a hyperactive Misaki for the next few days because if they stop they will cry again, oh and let's also mention the millions of marriage memes coming up

Angel/Maria de la Rosa, the Maneating Perfectionist

Angel is elegance, charm, and perfection wrapped in a gorgeous, deadly package. If you think you can propose without making it an unforgettable moment, think again.

Places: A special day, maybe she got promoted, you two went out for a fancy restaurant. You surprise her by slipping the ring into her champagne glass. She was probably thinking about her own proposal plans: “I’ll do it in Paris, or maybe under the northern lights…” when she noticed the ring, time just stopped.

Reaction: Every step of Angel's life has been carefully planned, dedicated to perfection and control. But this? This was never part of the script. She tries to speak, but for once, words failed her. She would try to stare at your face, searching for some signs of a cruel joke. But there's no deception, just you, offering her something she never dared to dream of, something real.

Putting on the ring: Angel trembles as she admires the ring, not for its value, but because you chose it, just for her. The moment it's slid onto her finger, a soft, breathless laugh escapes, like she can’t believe it’s real. She’ll insist she isn’t crying, but her ruined makeup says otherwise. And if the ring was custom-made? She’ll never take it off—because nothing has ever felt more right.

Answer: "Heaven exists, and it’s right here, in your arms. You’re the only person I’d ever consider going fully vegetarian for. So yes, mi amour, let’s give them something unforgettable" (She’s already planning the wedding down to the last detail.)

Sillies: + First text to SlaughterHouse: "Breaking news: I SAID YES! (And no, I will not be commenting on allegations of Y/N stealing my heart.)" + "I swear, if I ever miss a shot again, I'm blaming it on this ring. Too beautiful to not look at." + Casually flexes her ring in every situation, taking a sip of coffee? Ring in full view. Kissing you? Oh, she definitely tilts her hand just right for the perfect shot.

Ronin Beaufort, the Devil’s Poet of Purgatory

Ronin is a devil dressed in charm, a poet who spills verses like blood. A proposal to him isn’t just about love, it’s about defying god and fate themselves.

Places: "The Purgatory" of course, maybe after a gory kill and he's drenched, pumping with adrenaline. The place where his past sins linger, where the devil in him reigns. And yet, here you are, turning it into something sacred.

Reaction: For once, Ronin is speechless, trying to process if this is real or some prank. He’s spent his whole life running from ghosts of his past, his sins, the shadows of who he’s become. But you? You’re standing there, unwavering, refusing to run. He would definitely get tensed, as if he’s afraid he might lose this moment, lose you: “Darlin’, I ain’t even dead yet, and you already tryna claim my last name?”

Putting on the ring: When you slide it on, Ronin would definitely smirsk: "A wedding ring, huh? Guess that means I’m officially off the market." If you got him a ring with a hidden blade or devil engraving? He’s obsessed but acts like it’s no big deal. He might wear it around his neck at first but when it's on, it's ON.

Answer: "Tsck… You really just tied yourself to the devil, darlin’. If this is a sin, baby, then let me burn for you. Hope you’re ready for a lifetime of crime and bad poetry, ‘cause I ain’t letting you go." (Then he yanks you into a kiss, rough and desperate.)

Sillies: + "Babe, hear me out, matching crowbars engraved with our anniversary date. Just think about it." + Will 100% lean against a wall, flash his ring, and smirk at strangers like: "Single? Couldn’t be me." + First text to SlaughterHouse: "It seems a certatin someone actually looked at me and said, ‘Yeah, I wanna deal with that forever.’ Wild. Also, taking bets on how long it takes before Y/N realizes they made a mistake. Place your wagers wisely."

Valentin Viljoen, the Vigilante with Ice cold Heart

Valentin is a man of structure, morality, and control. But love? Love is unpredictable. Love is terrifying. And yet, here you are, asking him to embrace it.

Places: A short walk near the forest together. Soft golden light shines through the leaves and the scent of flowers linger in the air, truly a part of the Garden of Eden brought alive, where love can bloom freely.

Reaction: Valentin freezes. His mind races, but for once, there is no logical path forward, no neatly laid-out plan. He doesn't react immediately. No sharp breath, no wide-eyed shock, just silence. His whole life has been spent carrying the weight of a protector, the unwavering force of justice. And yet, here you are, asking him to be something else. To be selfish. To be yours.

Putting on the ring: His hands have always been steady in battle and in every aspect of his life, except for now. They tremble as you take his hand, slipping the ring onto his finger. His breath goes unsteady as he turns his hand over, inspecting the way it fits: perfect, inevitable, like it was always meant to be there.

Answer: "Marriage isn’t just a promise. It’s a contract. A duty. A vow I will never break. And I would be honored to spend my life upholding it with you." (He has already acquired a legal marriage paper by now)

Sillies: + “Y/N, does this mean I have to plan the wedding? Because if so, I have prepared a highly efficient multi-tab spreadsheet.” + The first thing he sends: a picture of the marriage certificate, of course... + Has to resist the urge to immediately update his legal documents. ("Should I change my emergency contact to you? Do I list you as my primary benefactor? Actually, give me a moment...")

P/S: I hope everyone had a nice time proposing <3

[lav-is-writing]

Hii!! Could you please write Ronin x really really clingy and touch starved reader? Like they're constantly clinging onto him, kissing him, cuddling n hugging him, and when they can't do that theyre just messaging him like every 5 minutes? <33

Ronin with a Clingy!Reader (Headcanon edition)

warnings: none

pairing: Ronin x Reader

wc: 267

a/n: struggled with this one a bit, I think I may have another one? Sorry T-T

Ronin wouldn't really mind, at first. He loved being able to hold you, and it was something that he was set on doing regardless of if you wanted to hold him back. So when the two of you first met, he was pleasantly surprised to have you clinging onto him the entire time.

Sleeping alone was a big no. Even though you clung onto him during the day, it seemed like you weren't ever done. If Ronin even tried to move, you shot up in the bed, tears welling in your eyes. Although he knew you were being overdramatic, he couldn't decline you your midnight hugs.

And when the time came for him to return home? Constant messages. Even when he put on "Do Not Disturb", the second he turned it off, he was spammed with "How are you?", "Are you okay?", and "I'm worried" texts. At one point, he was terrified by the fact that you could send so many.

It became humiliating to murder while what remained of your kisses stained his face. But Ronin knew that if he wiped them off, you'd just place more when he got home. When the news heard of the famous Butcher murdering with love marks? Oh, they were ecstatic.

Many tried to claim the title, but they were typically greeted with the opportunity to see his crowbar up close, each one hunted down- sorry- found in a totally legal way.

Ronin's used to it at this point. The constant hugs and cuddles were now something he looked forward to, and he would always give his own in return.

[moonlitchimes]

Today - Ronin x G.N Chronically Ill Reader

First time writing for this fandom as well as fanfiction itself in over a decade so please excuse any grammatical errors, oocness, etc dhsdhh. Might come back to revise it later, hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

Reader has an unspecified chronic illness and is experiencing flare-up symptoms in this, I tried to be as vague as possible to leave their diagnosis up to interpretation.

word count | 1133 no warnings for this one <3

Today you wake up cold.

Which is, by all accounts, a bit odd. Soft sunlight filters through the curtains, sleepily draping over your form and that of the strong frame curled around you. You should feel warm, but you don’t. Instead, it feels as if you’re standing outside in a winter storm—drenched in icy rain—and not wrapped in the arms of your furnace of a boyfriend. You drift for a while, taking a minute—or perhaps several—to bask in the rare calm that has settled as the sun begins its slow crawl over the horizon. 

However, the biting chill festering in your bones only becomes harder and harder to ignore. And as consciousness eventually creeps upon you once more, you become aware of a dull ache in the small of your back. 

That’s where it begins, anyway—it always does—before slinking its way up your spine and stretching itself languidly across your shoulders like an overzealous cat. It takes its time digging its claws into your skin, sharpening the ache into a searing that tears into your veins and blights your blood until all your body knows is pain and nothing else. 

You screw your eyes shut, doing your best to ground yourself: rough hands curled firm but careful around your waist, warm breath puffing against the crook of your neck, soft hair tickling your cheek. Some days, the easy repetition is enough to help you focus—to function with the pain. To ignore it—as much as it can be ignored—until you can stumble into some form of normalcy. 

Today is not one of those days. 

The torment that has been simmering throughout your body finally comes to a boil. A pitched keen escapes from your parted lips before you can stop it, and you stiffen as you feel Ronin stir from behind—no doubt roused by the sounds of your suffering. You bite down so hard on your lip to trap any more whines that you taste the sharp tang of copper on your tongue, another wave of agony wracking your hunched form. Wordlessly, you pray to whatever higher being that may be listening that he settles. 

No such luck.

“Darlin’,” mumbled against your shoulder, still rough with sleep. “Way too early t’be up an’ about, y’know.” 

His words are met with tense silence, the only sign of acknowledgment from you being a slight twitch in your taut frame. 

Ronin’s brows draw together, the teasing edge fading—if only slightly—into cautious concern. “Baby?” he tries again, more alert this time. “Look at me.” Firm—not a request, no matter how undemanding it sounds. 

You’re terse when you finally gather the strength to choke out a response. “It’s nothing, Ro.” A beat—your tone shifts into something more casual, an attempt at nonchalance. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s something, darlin’.” He’s always been able to see right through you. He exhales softly, shifting until he’s propped up on his elbows before repeating, “Look at me.” 

When you finally face Ronin and see his dark, knowing eyes—always so perceptive, always seeming to know you better than you even know yourself—you’re unable to hold it in any longer. Your facade crumbles like withered bone, pain etched clearly across your face.

Whatever composure you had been feigning, you are still only human—still unable to ignore your own suffering, no matter how hard you try.

It felt ridiculous, in a way.

All these years, you had walked this same road alone, time and time again. Never had you had someone to lean on; never had anyone—beyond some choice doctors—bothered to truly concern themselves with your condition. You had long since grown used to this—to saving yourself. 

The support of another had always been something foreign to you—a nice dream, but still a dream all the same. Back then, it hadn’t mattered that no one cared for you (but you had wanted it—god, how you had wanted it). You had come this far on your own, so why bother changing that now? Today you will smile—biting your tongue. You will grit your teeth and bear through the pain. There is no need to cry like some sort of child, to weep about how badly it hurts. You can get through this on your own. 

Alone. Always alone—

You’re shaken from your thoughts by a sudden brush against your cheek, eyes snapping open to meet dark ones—like a void, like oblivion. 

“You’re not alone,” he murmurs, catching a stray tear on his thumb from where it rests against your cheek—and oh, when did you start crying?—”So get out of that head of yours, ‘fore it swallows you whole.” 

He didn’t wait for you to answer, leaning back with all the self-assurance of a predator, his eyes as sharp as blades. “Shoulda woken me,” he drawls—low and smooth as sin—as he watches you. “You don’t gotta suffer in silence like some damn martyr, not with me.” 

He doesn’t touch you—not wanting to cause you any more pain—but he stays close, waiting with all the patience of a darker saint. 

Something in you comes loose at the sight, your breath shuddering as you acquiesce, “I’m sorry—” But he doesn’t let you finish, huffing in fond exasperation as he inclines his head. “Not wantin’ an apology, darlin’, just let me take care of ya.” 

Because that’s what he always does, isn't it? 

Ronin—who, despite all his threats and talk, had seen you, a no-name writer in need of inspiration, and become your muse.

Ronin—who had placed a knife into your hands, lips against your ear, who had given you a choice of how you wanted your shared story to end.

Ronin—who had kissed you in a blood-soaked alleyway with a wolfish smile, like he had known what you would choose all along.

Ronin—who had barged into your life with a wild grin and bloodstained teeth—planted himself firmly by your side and refused to leave, like he belonged there. Like you belonged to him.

(He did, you did.)

Ronin—who knows you better than anyone else, who has slasher movie marathons with you just to have an excuse to hold you close, who stayed up all night researching your condition when he found out just so he could take better care of you.  

Ronin who loves you.

“You don’t have to.” 

“Wasn’t askin’ for permission, sweetheart.” His voice is quieter now—not quite soft, because what part of Ronin is?—but gentle. Warm, despite the teasing edge. “‘Sides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” 

For once, you don’t meet his banter with your own.

“I love you, Ro.”

A pause—his eyes soften. A small breath. His voice dips into something more genuine, more real. “Yeah. I love you too, darlin’.”

Tomorrow, you hope to wake up warm. But if you don’t, Ronin will be there.

And maybe that’s enough.

[mymelody58]

I LOVE RONIN?!!!!!??!!!?!

can you do some Ronin with a yandere mc? we need more of that, you can be as creative as you like!, lots of love! Ronins pretty princess!

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・☆・・・・☆

Sweet Killer Obsession

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・☆・・・・☆

Tw!!!

murder

blood & gore

yandere, possessiveness, obsession

a whole ass making out session

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・☆・・・・☆

Never once in your life would you think that blood would stain your hands again, but here you are a knife in your hand, blood all over your clothes and a massacred body right at your feet. it felt somewhat refreshing, especially after you got rid of that bitch who dared to flirt with your Ronin. Oh how much you enjoyed killing her, her screams and cries were like music to your ears.

This made you feel nostalgic. Long before you were known as Y/N and were an official citizen of America, you were known under a different name and lived in a small village in Japan. Why did you change your identity? Well... Being a well known serial killer who's real name could be revealed at any given moment wasn't a perfect situation, even if being found out felt exciting.

A few years prior to this situation you were known as ��██████, a young Japanese high school student with a really tiny obsession about your previous crush. This obsession was so small that you killed him and seven other people who dared to breath too close to him. Well... no one said that you were normal, right? In any case, after brutally murdering your crush and his so called girlfriend - a whore who didn't deserve him. You lost all your interest in him, your feelings just turned off like light when you flick the light switch. Maybe it was because of how boring he was? You will never know.

After asking nicely - threatening - one of your criminal friends to give you a fake name and register you as an american citizen studying journalism, you faked the death of your past self and moved on. It took you a few years to get adjusted to the new lifestyle, but you didn't hate it. You had a somewhat stable job and a new interest in writing.

The rest of the story of how you met the killers and started a romantic relationship wasn't something so interesting, Ronin added you to his server after your interesting question on the dark web, then teased you and played with you, only to make you fall for him and corrupt your "innocent little mind".

At least you stayed innocent in his eyes until you started following him like his shadow, or breaking into his house to "borrow' something that belonged to him. Ronin wouldn't get too angry if one of his clothes or accessories went missing, how could he ever get mad at such a cute partner?

Ronin wasn't blind, he saw just how possessive and obsessive you were, and he enjoyed it, he basked it in and was intrigued about how far you would go for him. He didn't have to wait long.

One day you sent a picture on #killer_shit, a picture of a massacred body. Ronin recognised the body's owner, it was a man who asked Ronin to fix his car some time ago. On the same day he tried to ask him out on a date, his try wasn't successful when suddenly you emerged from behind his car and clung onto Ronin, if looks could kill then that guy would be laying dead next to his car at least that's how Ronin saw it.

"Guess your look really killed him." He said to himself, a dark chuckle left his mouth as he looked at your fresh kill.

Something didn't add up in Ronin's head for a while, especially with the new pictures that were flooding the server. They all seemed like they've been done by someone with a lot of experience, but you weren't a killer before. There was nothing on you when he looked up your name.

One day he decided to ask you about it while you and the other server members were on a call.

"Hey darlin', what did you say your killer name was?" Ronin's voice caught your attention and his question caused everyone to get silent,

"(Killer name), why?" You answered in that sweet tone you used when you were confident about something. What could possibly make you so confident?

Well, the answer was fairy simple - there was nothing on the name you gave him, but that name wasn't fake. It was your actual killer name from your dark past but in the English language, and the Japanese authorities made sure that your existence was a secret for the rest of the world. How would the country's reputation look if the rest of the world found out that a murderer from a small village went missing right under their noses?

"There's nothing on you, I checked it many times." V's stern and cold voice reached your ears and you chuckled.

"Aw, that's so cute that you're trying to find me out, but I'm not lying. You just have to look deeper." You answered and hang up, leaving the killers hungry for more knowledge.

Well, V took that challenge very personally. He searched the whole internet to look for any hint about who you truly were, and that's when it hit him... that name was a translation! He double checked the "works' of art" pictures that you shared with the server and then he found it.

<@K9>: https://japanessepolicecases.net

<@K9>: Found you @Y/N.

You checked the server after you heard some notifications coming from the media channel. You laughed uncontrollably. Yes, finally! Something to make Ronin see your true colours.

<@h1tmeupp>: oh fuck! You were the (killer name)?!

<@h1tmeupp>: you're a mystery even today and this was like seven years ago!!!

<@Y/N>: What can I say? I always liked being a walking mystery ;)

Almost everyone replied to the news. Everyone, but Ronin. His lack of attention made you uneasy. He was online when V revealed who you are, so why hasn't he replied? He should be proud right? You proved that you're interesting. So why the fuck isn't he replying?!

While your head was full of chaos and the images of different scenarios of Ronin betraying you, there was a sudden noise in your kitchen. You stood up from your chair and grabbed the knife from your desk. Holding it behind your back you left your room and quietly went to see who dared to break into your home.

You weren't worried about yourself, but what if someone saw your small and beautiful altar made for Ronin? No one other than you was allowed to see just how handsome he was on those pictures you worked so hard to take unnoticed.

When you reached your kitchen there was no one, not a single open window or moved piece of kitchen equipment. As you were about to turn around and leave, two strong arms wrapped around you, one held you by your waist and the other was holding your mouth shut.

It's Ronin.

You would recognise that scent of smoke mixed with some motor oil anywhere. Oh how addicting that scent was.

"I see you've come prepared baby." He whispered against your neck and you could feel your whole body melt and shiver. You couldn't answer, but you didn't mind. You wanted to see where this new game would go.

Ronin loved to test you, and you knew that. You would do anything to amuse him or earn yourself a praise, so you indulged him every time he tried to push your limits.

"So you're a serial killer, that's interesting." He moved the hand from your mouth to your neck. "And to think that I took you for an innocent writer." His laugh was dark, definitely unsettling for some people, but to you? You could listen to that sound on repeat.

"i never said that I wasn't Ro.' You replied with a small giggle. "it was you who assumed my innocence." your voice was sickly sweet, just like some good little saint's.

"Oh, you're so smart. Such a small tease." Ronin turned you around and pinned you to the wall. "Your murders are so pretty darlin', just for me. It makes me want to kiss my knife to your throat." He whispered against your parted lips.

That wasn't a threat, that was a love confession in Ronin's style.

His words and the closure made a shiver run down your back. You looked into Ronin's eyes, basically begging this devilish man to kiss you.

And he was willing to fulfill your wish.

"You're so eager." He teased and then his lips crushed into yours.

That kiss felt hot, it made your whole body melt into his touch. You held him by his leather jacket in one hand and you were basically pulling on his hair with the other. That sudden movement earned you a muffled groan from Ronin.

He didn't stay in debt and pushed his hand under your shirt to dig his nails into your waist. You gasped into his mouth and he used that opportunity to push his tongue into your opened mouth. This heated dance of your tongues was enough to drive you crazy, but Ronin's hands under your shirt? Oh that was paradise.

You bit Ronin's lower lip, pulling on it so hard that the both of you felt the metallic taste of blood on your tongues, but he didn't break the kiss yet. He chuckled and squeezed his hand on your waist, pulling your body even closer to his.

This kiss was heated, deep and long. Ronin's beanie was somewhere on the floor and your bodies were pressed against each other. You felt like this moment was heaven. Having Ronin so close to you? That was a dream come true. If it wasn't for you two needing air then you could go even longer and maybe this situation would grow even more intimate.

Ronin broke the kiss, a thick string of silva wasn't the only sign of what just happened. Your cheeks were burning red and you struggled to catch your breath, he leaned his forehead against yours and smirked while he was watching the aftermath of your kiss.

"Oh you're so pretty like this, breathless and in love." He murmured and rubbed your side with his thumb.

"Only the devil can ruin me like this." You replied and suddenly pulled his head back by his hair so you could lick the leftover blood from his lips.

"Oh? Maybe there's even a cannibal in you." He joked and smirked at your pout. "Never said I don't like them." He whispered and moved his head to the crook of your neck to leave a mark there.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・☆・・・・☆

Find God kids.

It's too late, we're all sinners here.

Love you, bye!

- N<3

[aurmisery]

- a little death -

ronin b. x gn! reader !!

inspired by a friend of mine in the rose's rot discord, vanity! @vanitywoo

hi erm this is my first time putting down a killer chat! work of mine on here uhhhhhhh

cw // mentions of sh scars on mc -

please tell me if anything else in here can be considered triggering !!

okay enjoy!!!!!1!!1!!!!2! sorry if this is ass and or ooc for ronin bro i TRIED MY BEST I TRIEDMYBEST

1878 word count!!!!!!!

FUCKIFORGOT THIS US FLUFF BTW

-

you know when you walk into someone's room, you can immediately tell what kind of person they are? what posters they roll on their walls, what decor they line the edges of their room with- if they have LEDs, what merch they willingly buy and if they have a whole shelf for said merch, etc?

if you were to walk into ronin's room with no idea of who he is other than his oh so charming looks, you might just say "typical, makes sense given his aesthetic." even if the jars of human remains seemed a bit too hardcore and realistic.

it all fit though, the color palette ranging from all hues of red, black, and white, the masks, the lava lamp, the VHS tapes, the illuminated 'KORN' sign hung in the corner of his room matching the 'still alive?' frame with a cartoonishly drawn heart- it was all him- it screamed ronin.

the plainest thing in his room was probably his bed- and he knew that. it was just a black headboard and footboard, with a red duvet and pillows with a white blanket overtop it. it did match the color scheme, which was enough for now, but it was missing something.

.

.

.

but as his pupils grazed over your steady form, warm and breathing, he realized something.

the slight flush of your cheeks, the way your eyelids fell heavy over your unblinking stare, the hazy glare of his TV burning a light glow over your side-

the ruffle of your hair, your legs snaking awkwardly with his, fingers mindlessly tracing invisible doodles over his forearm, and the slight quirk of your brow as your eyes retrace back to his.

"what's up?" your lips curl upwards slowly as his eyes noticeably fade from the trance he planted himself into, brows slanted upwards as he slow blinked.

"...youuuu good?" a small giggle slewed unevenly from your grin, and he scoffs, a playful jab at the side of your waist following the roll of his eyes.

"'m fine, jus' thinkin'. what about you, darlin'? feelin' comfortable in the devil's den?"

you flop over on your right side, facing him rather than the TV, propping yourself up on one elbow with your other arm tracing the angle of his jaw.

"for a devil, you're rather accommodating, i'll give you that," you tease, and he revels in it; in your warmth, in the fiery trace of your finger along his jawline, and for once, his hell is starting to feel a bit hot.

"in a literal sense, if i'm laying in your bed, wearing your shirt, cuddled up with you, watching old slashers, i think i'm as comfortable as i can ever get."

it's his turn to grin, moving his hand from its resting position on your hip to the small of your back, letting a small exhale he didn't even know he was holding fall from his lips.

his downcast eyes flicker from the graphic tee bagging low under the curve of your shoulders to the width of your thighs, and he couldn't help but feel a little warmer.

you did look good in his clothes.

and as your hand caressed his cheek, his head melting into your warmth, he spots something along the flex of your arms.

his blackened irises almost narrow at them, but they reverted back to whatever you would call normal as his hand drags from your back to the base of your arms, fingers gently rubbing over the faded marks of your pliant skin.

at this, the knitted furrow of your brows came together, a slight wrinkle in your expression as you awkwardly chuckle, a defensive grin uneasily firming itself on your cheeks.

"what's this for?" you question, a wry smile on your face as you realize the implications of his stare, and the look on his face...was just blank.

"no reason, just glad you don't...do that anymore, i guess."

with a shiver up your spine, you firm up your lips into a sheepish smile, nodding with a creak to your voice. "aww, c'mon. can't even say that without the 'i guess' at the end?"

and then he laughed, the tiniest hue of cherry blending into his ivory skin, his onxy irises filled with amusement.

"is it like me to carve open my chest and bare it fresh? i'm not that much of a romantic, darlin'."

it was your turn to scoff, turning over onto your stomach and reaching out to cup his chin with the flex of your fingers, thumb lolling over his bottom lip.

"'i'm not that much of a romantic, darlin'," you mock, voice whiny and pitchy before you deadpanned, eyes narrowed at him.

"oh please, cut the bullshit, ro. not that much of a romantic my ass."

ronin weaved a palm through the plum tresses sitting upon his head, a dismissive hum resting in his throat as he looked you over. "i'm not really, i mean- i kill people?"

"yeah- abusers. usually, anyway."

you then fanned out your hands, your digits extending with each gesture you were about to point out, pupils darting upwards into your lashes as if recounting your times together.

"our motorcycle dates? the shirts you give me each time i come over? the way you snuggle against me while we watch movies, when you complain about being cold to get me closer to you, when you crack cheesey jokes about how lonely your lips are, how-"

"okay, okay, i get it."

and as you took a glance at your boyfriend, a bead of sweat brimmed at his forehead and neck, face flushing a hue of carmine as his words spewed out in an exasperated rush.

you grin.

"oh, and that time you rushed me through your front door after i got drenched by the rain despite the fact that you were also soaked. when you prepared me soup in worry that i would get sick, and while i didn't get ill, you did the next day."

you were trying to be subtle, but with how his pupils were blown out and watching your every move, he was probably more aware of your slow crawl over to him than you were, the mattress making a small dip where your knee paused.

"then, i stayed over the whole time and nursed you back to health while we watched your favorite movies? or when i stopped by your job and you purposely wiped your face with the front of your shirt to flash your-"

"okay, fine! fuck, you win!"

his face was hot and covered by a thin sheen of sweat, a hand flayed out over his jaw to hide his most-likely embarrassed expression, brows arched downwards into a glare. he couldn't even look at you.

ronin beaufort, flustered? ronin fucking beaufort, embarrassed?!

you just made the devil bow his head.

a boisterous laugh bounced out of the pits of your stomach- jesus christ, you've rarely never seen him like this before, all shy and flustered.

your arms snake over your own abdomen, trying to pat down the rumbling giggles orchestrating from your gut with a roll onto your side, and you feel his elbow butt between your ribs playfully.

"give ya an inch and you take a mile, huh?"

he grumbles, giving you a nudge as you only cackle further, slapping a palm over your eyes to smear the tears pearling at your lash line.

"god, your face is fucking priceless when you're embarrassed! geez, i shoulda taken a picture, would've been amazing to have that spammed in mai-"

without skipping a beat, he reeled you into his arms, before turning and slamming you down right in the middle of the bed, hands jabbing and feverishly dancing over your sides.

all the sudden, your laughing increased tenfold- tears springing out of your eyes like sprinkles as you jerked, bucked, and kicked in protest of his tickling, but you couldn't do anything against his iron grip.

you felt like you were dying, stomach exhausted as you guffawed and blabbered, hiccups along the lines of "i can't-" "wait, my stomach hurts-" "have mercy-" following between the tears pitifully steaming down your reddening face.

he lets out a soft-hearted snicker, his body over yours and his knees pinned on either sides of your hips. his plum locks tickles your forehead, reminding you of the teasing grin on his face as he mercilessly dug at your sides- before his fingers traced upwards to your collarbone, and-

his fingertips padded over your neck, before your head jerked instinctively and you could only cackle further. is he trying to kill you?

and finally- you fought back, hands reaching up into his shirt.

he stiffened, eyes widening as your hands snaked up into the black fabric and wandered over his lower waist, making him jump and bubble his cheeks- as if that would quiet his laughter.

but you powered through the pain in your gut from laughing your vocal cords out and frenzied your hands up his abdomen, he gave out, falling pathetically besides you as you took your sweet, sweet retribution.

his arms flexed over his head in defense, lashes clenched shut as his face buried itself into the pillow besides him, almost as if taking cover from your violent antics.

you curl over against him, hands jabbing and frantically scurrying up his shirt as his laughs and pleas muffle besides you, and then-

your hands seemingly touched a sore spot, his laughs dying out and his breath hitching, as if he was in pain. finally taking a second to feel the skin below your palm, you handle it with deft, and...

it's smooth, slightly arched in size, extending from the middle of his chest to the side of his pecs. you lift up your head to look up his already hiked-up shirt, and...

it's his scars. a cringe forms in the side of your gut, fuck- did you piss him off?

"sorry," you usher lowly, withdrawing your hands, only for his to grab your wrists, placing them back right back on his chest.

his thumbs roll over your wrists, reassuring your tense frame back into ease, and you eye his facial expressions carefully.

his eyes are beady, sucked into the way your thumbs navigate the faded discoloration of his torso, brows furrowed and watching with a slight quirk in his lips.

and then his eyes harden.

"do you, uh," he begins, tone devoid of that usual bite he has to it, gaze wandering away from your hands on him, from your face and to the corner of his room.

"do you see me as, y'know, uhm-"

"the devil? hell yeah."

he smiles.

it was so... genuine, so adoring, blooming through the erasure of his doubts, of your validation- even as his soft hair messily spiraled into his vision, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

and as you slink besides him, letting your head sink into the pillow conjoined with his- he realized something, and this time he took full joy in memorizing it.

your touch, your voice, your sweet, sweet lips- even the messy, unbothered display you shroud around.

the way you smile at him in the dim light of his room, the warmth radiating from your body as your lips brush against his.

you're all the decoration he needs.

-

okay hi i hope you liked itsorry for the words being kinda clunky here n there???? ok bye

[coffeecqke]

The Thrill of the Kill

written by coffeecqke

Y/N x Ronin - Killer Chat!

WARNINGS: Murder, ‘Gore’, Suggestive scene

So today’s the day. Today is the day you suck it up and do as he asked. As your devil wanted. Your nerves are as active as ever, adrenaline pumping through your veins and you haven’t even done anything yet.

Just the thought of actually killing someone scares you but also… excites you in a way? You’ve heard all your friends Misaki, Angel, Feli, so many of them talk about their murders. You’re finally going to join them, you won’t be the odd one out.

You’re not just gonna be a writer anymore…

You have already planned a target and a method, you just need to get your ‘materials.’

You grab your duffel bag, crowbar, and cleaning products. You mustn’t get caught on your first kill, it has to be perfect. Ronin has to be proud.

You stuff your bag full and head out, on your way to the victim’s house.

The victim is a woman, probably in her late twenties. She’s got long, ginger, silky hair and vibrant green eyes.

Normally, you’d probably go for a man.

But this girl.

This girl flirted with Ronin and expected to get away with it. That’s not happening.

The crowbar fits nicely in the back of her head, spewing out blood onto you. Good thing you’re prepared, isn’t it?

You swing your crowbar again, this time catching her neck. You listen as her screams turn to gurgles and…

Silence.

Now, it’s time to harvest her aorta!

The knife slides smoothly through her bare chest, perfect.

With your gloves on, you push your hand inside of the hole you made, fishing out her heart.

You’ve seen enough of Ronin’s grotesque murders to be nauseated by this one.

—

<goreboy>: Y/N

<goreboy>: you Up for coming Over?

<Y/N>Let’s meet in Purgatory. <3

<goreboy>: damn, Alright.

<goreboy>: Got something Planned?

<Y/N>: Maybe… :3

—

You stand in Purgatory as you wait for Ronin, holding your duffel bag.

He strides into the alleyway, looking for you. “Y/N! Whatchu got there, darlin’?” Ronin called out to you and you smiled wide. “Ro! I got you a present, I think you’ll like it a lot.” You ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he wrapped his around your waist. “Mhm? What is it, doll? Show me.” You both let go and you begin to unzip your duffel bag. Ronin watched intently, grinning. You pulled out the heart you carved out of the woman and handed it to Ronin. Your cheeks flushed. You had always told Ronin you’d kill for him, but never kept your word. Now you’re finally proving how much he means to you and your heart began racing.

Ronin took the heart, placing his free hand on your cheek. He gave you a kiss, “Fuck, darlin’, your first kill? What have I done to my pretty little writer?” Ronin grinned, “Good fuckin’ job, baby. I’m so proud.”

He leaned in, kissing your lips. You kissed back, deepening it. He slid his tongue between your lips, tangling with yours, exploring your mouth like an uncovered cave. His hand found the back of your head, lightly gripping your hair. A small moan escaped from your mouth, your hands wrapping back around his neck. Ronin broke the kiss to place kisses down your chin, down your neck, and went onto leaving hickeys on your collarbones. Sucking, biting, leaving red marks all around.

“You wanna take this somewhere else.. or fuck here?” He spoke in a deep voice, his eyes darkened by lust. You felt your face go hot, imagining taking him in his favorite alleyway.

“Here…” You squeaked. You could feel yourself beginning to drip, thinking of all the possibilities.

“Fuck, I love you, darlin’.” He spoke with a grin.

[azialways]

Killer Queen

Now playing: Killer Queen by Queen ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 3:12

cw: canon typical violence, gore, kissing & hickeys, no 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.

Y/N was laying in their bed, staring at the ceiling while thinking. They weren’t really thinking about anything specific, it was ideas for something to write, the occasional Ronin thought. God they missed Ronin, they wanted him there with them, alas, he was still his own man with his own serial killing life.

But, aren’t they lucky? Look who was calling

goreboy would like to video call

yes please

no thanks

They immediately picked up, sitting at their desk.

”Hey baby, y’missed me?” He greeted them, smiling at them with his typical smirk. He was sat at his desk, sitting with his knees up per usual.

“No shit Sherlock, I miss you every second I'm not with you.” They responded, leaning back in their chairs.

That made him blush a little, he rolled his eyes and his cocky smirk softened. “Awh, you’re adorable.” He cooed, teasing them a little, endearingly, of course.

“What? I do miss you. I’d gladly let you crawl in through my window right now.” They joked, but he looked like he was pondering it.

“Don’t go givin me ideas now, darlin…you know how I am.” He chuckled, leaning on his hand. “I’d gladly grab my crowbar and break into your house…romantic, isn’t it?”

“Sure. I’d also be willing to let you in through the front door and avoid having to get my locks fixed.” They responded, matching the teasing tone he put down. It’s how their relationship worked so well, they both had the same spunk and attitude, it makes the two work well.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“The fun of not making me go broke?”

“Baby if that’s your concern, I’ll buy you new locks.” He chuckled, he knew you guys were just messing around, it was both of your love languages alongside touch.

“Then if you so please, break in. But I do prefer you knocking on the door.”

“I’ll think about it. So, do you want me to come over?” He offered, adjusting his position in his chair.

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” They responded, looking at him in a way that begged him to.

”Goddamn it, when you look at me like that…how do I say no?” He groaned, standing up and throwing his jacket on. ”Be there in ten, baby.” He grabbed his crowbar, putting it away in his guitar case, then hung up.

“Fuck, I love that man.” Y/N exhaled, walking to the bathroom to freshen up for him. They put on a sweater, subconsciously forgetting it was actually his, which he loved; alongside with some leggings. They sat on the couch, waiting for the knock. And then they heard it, and looked through to see him leaning on the wall of the apartment hallway.

“Hey baby, you gonna come in or what?” Y/N greeted, and his eyes perked up. He walked toward them, a loving look in his eyes.

“Hey gorgeous…love that sweater, wonder who gave it to ya.” He teased, placing a soft kiss on their cheek.

“Hmm, I wonder.” They responded, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards their bedroom.

“Woah woah, take me out to dinner first, sweetheart.” He smirked, stopping once the door was closed. He then held them against the back of the door, just starting at them, their beauty.

“God you’re fucking gorgeous, yknow that?” He mumbled in their ear, his voice deep yet smooth. It was so hot…it made their breathing quicken.

“Mhm? I happen to think you’re pretty cute yourself, Ronin Beaufort.” Y/N teased back, and leaned in. “But you’re even cuter like this…all in love with me…I knew there was a reason you couldn’t kill me.” Their lips were just millimeters away from his. He licked his lips, they parted slightly as his hand found its way behind their head. He was needy, desperate, maybe. He leaned in like it was the last time, bringing your lips together. The kiss was gentle, sweet, loving. It wasn’t like the time in Purgatory, or when you two got drunk together…no it was like the kiss when he first asked you out officially, that tender moment that never left your memory.

“mmm I missed you baby…” He mumbled against their lips, kissing them softly one last time before parting.

“I missed you too, Ro.”

“Say…how about we have some fun?” He suggested, his eyebrow raised suggestively. His definition of “Fun” could range from cuddling to murder, you never knew.

“Fun as in…?” You asked.

“How about we go on a little kill date…I’ll even carve our initials in the victim’s aorta…yknow, like the romantics do. He rubbed circles on their back, holding them close.

”Mmm…maybe. I haven’t killed with you yet…only the time I carved our initials into that whore’s aorta and gifted it to you for valentine’s.” Y/N recalled that time, killing the girl who thought she’d get away with flirting with him…ha. rookie mistake.

”And I loved it. Seeing you all covered in blood and gore, beautiful.”

“I bet you did…why don’t we get changed and go out and find a victim…hm? You and me, two crowbars…like Harley Quinn and the Joker of serial killing…”

“I like the sound of that.” He spoke, putting his hood up and mask on, he then grabbed her hoodie, and helped her tie a bandana to her face since she wasn’t as well equipped.

“Ready to go, darling?” he took her gloved hand in his, and the two walked out of Y/N’s area and into Uptown. They looked around for an unsuspecting victim, and that was until Y/N spotted someone specific. Another girl who had been flirting with Ronin, disgusting.

“Baby can we kill her? She’s one of the bitches who was hitting on you.” Y/N begged, and all he could do was laugh softly at their eagerness.

“Of course darling. Go on, drag her in.” He ushered her, and so they did. They grabbed the woman from behind, covered her mouth, and pulled her into the alleyway. Once she was in the alley, before she could scream, Ronin bashed her head in with his crowbar. Then again, then again in the front of her face, then he cut her chest open and grabbed the woman’s heart, barely beating. He cut the veins and arteries off, bleeding all over. He then carved TB + ❤️ into the ventricle. He then held it out to her.

“My love, for you.” He smirked, then proceeded to rip her up, disemboweling and shredding the insides to make it his mark. Once her guts were spread all over like a macabre painting of horror, Y/N put the heart in the woman’s open chest cavity, to add the final touch of a job well done. Ronin snapped a picture of him and Y/N kissing with the body in the background, then posted it to the server, After that, the two snuck back to Y/N’s apartment. The two laughed as they discussed the murder like it was some hilarious joke, the blood and gore fresh on their clothes. The other serial killers ate it up, minus V, but V hated any and everything. Misaki talked about how cute they were, Angel hyped up the first couple murder, etc etc.

“Gotta admit, you look good like this…all bloody and rushed from the kill…” He stalked towards them, tearing his gloves off with his teeth, throwing them into the bathroom to clean off. God that was hotter than it needed to be. He then removed his jacket, sweater, until he was just in a black tank top. God he looked good enough to eat. He had muscle, it was noticeable, and the scene of him all bloody with nothing but a tank top and some bloodied cargo pants was enough to make any normal person go wild.

His hands went to their waist, gripping firmly. He pushed them against their bed, staring at them from on top, he then attacked their lips, exploring them with a renewed need. He needed them. Needed them like he needed air to breathe and his crowbar to kill…His lips slowly trailed down their neck, leaving small bites scattered around. The adrenaline of the kill only intensified with them, he felt like he was on top of the damn world right now. He pulled away, looking at them again.

“fuck, I love you…so much baby.” He exhaled, letting go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I-I love you too, Ro.”

“mmm, glad to hear it.” He mumbled, letting them sit up so he could lie down in their lap, curled up like a lapdog. He sighed happily as he felt their fingers run through his hair, and he knew. He knew with every bit in his heart, that this was his home. They were his home, and always will be.

[vandme12]

Could I please request Ronin with a reader who got a stalker after their book got popular? They don’t really see the stalker as a threat, they’ve dealt with the devil after all.

But what if he gets a little too close and it forces Ronin to do something about it, but the reader beat him to it?

Have a great day!

Your first mistake was underestimating the appeal of a killer.

The book—your book—was never supposed to blow up like this. A bloody, intimate little crime novel, loosely inspired by the slasher-flavored chaos you’d somehow made a life out of. It was supposed to be niche, a cult hit at best. But now? Every other day, there’s a new notification about someone thirsting after your fictional killer. Reviews drool over his sadism, his devil-may-care attitude, the way he breaks his victims like it’s a love language.

They have no idea he’s real. That he kisses you with the same mouth he uses to threaten lives.

Ronin thinks it’s hilarious.

“‘The Devil’s Butcher could get it, tbh,’” he reads aloud one night, cackling over a tweet on your phone. “Aw, sweetheart—why didn’t ya tell me I had fans? Coulda started a damn fan club. Goreboy Nation. Merch n’ everythin’.”

You roll your eyes, shoving his face away from your screen. “You’re already insufferable. If you start selling t-shirts, I’m out.”

Ronin just hums, teeth grazing your neck—playful. Sharp. “Nah, ya ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’. Face it: ‘m the only devil who’s gonna put up with ya.”

You let him think that. Let him croon against your skin like the world itself belongs to him—like you belong to him. (He isn’t wrong.)

But the thing is, while the fans are fun and the money’s nice, you know better than anyone that obsession isn’t cute.

So when you first notice the messages—subtle at first, just a little too knowing—you don’t think much of it. You’ve been stalked before. Hell, your boyfriend is a stalker if you squint a little. What’s one more weirdo with boundary issues?

But then your inbox gets weird.

The stalker doesn’t ask normal fan questions. They pick apart the details—the parts you shouldn’t know, shouldn’t be able to write about. Things only Ronin would recognize. Things you shouldn’t have access to.

They know too much.

“You think it’s a cop?” you ask one night, lounging on Ronin’s ratty couch while he sharpens one of his knives.

He snorts. “Please. If the cops were that competent, I’d be in cuffs already.” He tilts his head, glancing at you through dark lashes. “You worried, baby?”

Worried? Not exactly. Not when your boyfriend has a body count higher than his IQ.

You shrug. “I can handle it.”

Ronin grins, wolfish and bright. “I know ya can.”

The first time you mention the stalker, Ronin laughs.

You do get it now..

"Aw, c’mon, darling," he drawls over the phone, voice honey-sweet with a razor’s edge. "You’re tellin’ me some pencil-idiot creep thinks they can rattle you? After all we’ve been through? Cute."

He’s not worried—why would he be? You’ve survived him, after all.

To Ronin, there’s no comparison. Some obsessive fan sending you weird, clingy emails and waiting outside your apartment doesn’t rank high on his list of threats. Not when you’ve faced worse and walked away with your heart still beating—his, too, if he’s feeling sentimental.

You’re not worried either. Not really.

You’ve danced with the devil and kissed him in an alley soaked with blood. Some guy with a parasocial complex doesn’t exactly make your skin crawl—not in the way it should. But it’s annoying. Persistent. And starting to piss you off.

At first, it’s small things. A note on your windshield after a signing. Flowers sent to your P.O. box with no return address. Emails signed Your biggest fan that come in the dozens—rambling, incoherent praise. Nothing that feels threatening, not really. Just… there.

You don’t mention it again for weeks. Ronin’s busy, anyway. Uptown’s been keeping him occupied—more bodies in Purgatory, more sinners to crucify. You don’t blame him for being distracted. If anything, you like that he’s got bloodier things on his mind.

Still, when he catches you laughing over a particularly unhinged email, he makes a sound low in his throat. Dangerous. Interested.

"That your little stalker again?"

"Yeah," you say, spinning lazily in your office chair. "Dude thinks we’re soulmates or something. Poor guy has no clue what he’s up against."

"Mm." A pause. His voice dips, velvet-soft. "They better not touch you, baby."

You smile, tilting your head. "What, you gonna rip their heart out for me?"

Ronin chuckles, low and indulgent. "Only if ya let me."

The first time the stalker crosses the line, it’s almost funny. Almost.

You find the package outside your door one night—a plain cardboard box, taped neatly shut. For a second, you think it’s something you ordered. But there’s no address. No label.

Inside is a photograph.

It’s you.

You, sitting at your favorite café last week—head down, lost in thought, writing notes for your next novel. Taken through a window, your face blurred slightly by the glass. Beneath the photo, there’s a single line of text.

"You’re even prettier in person."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, tossing it on the counter.

Ronin doesn’t find it funny.

"You didn’t tell me they were that close," he says when you send him a picture.

"It’s fine," you reply. "They’re harmless. Just desperate."

"Yeah? Let’s see how harmless they are when I wrap my hands ‘round their throat."

His protectiveness is hot—obviously—but you don’t want to wind him up too much. This isn’t his mess to clean. Not yet.

Besides. You can handle yourself.

The next time, they get bolder.

A text pings your phone at 2:47 AM. No number. No name.

I saw you tonight.

You glance toward your window. It’s locked—has been since Ronin waltzed into your life and made paranoia a love language. Still, your skin prickles.

"Still harmless, darling?" Ronin asks the next morning.

You know what he wants—to unleash that wicked temper, to make a statement in blood. It’s sweet, in its own fucked-up way. But you tell him the same thing as always.

"I’ve got it under control."

He hums. Doesn’t argue. But there’s something sharper in his silence.

It escalates three days later.

You’re walking home from a late-night grocery run—plastic bags heavy with cup noodles and the cheap, trashy snacks you practically live on. The city hums around you, neon lights flickering in and out of focus.

And then you feel it.

That creeping sensation of eyes on your back.

You don’t panic. Panic is for people who haven’t kissed a serial killer and walked away grinning. You duck into a side street instead, cutting through a back alley to lose them.

Footsteps follow.

A thrill rolls through your stomach—part fear, part excitement. If this idiot thinks you’re an easy target, they’ve got another thing coming.

"Y’know," you say casually, turning on your heel, "if you wanted an autograph, you could’ve just—"

They lunge.

Wrong move.

Your elbow slams into their ribs before they can touch you. The plastic bags hit the ground, scattering instant ramen everywhere. You twist, slamming your knee into their gut next—hard enough to make them stumble.

The guy isn’t much—skinny, twitchy, desperate. He gasps, scrambling back as you advance, heart hammering with adrenaline.

"You’ve been watching me for weeks," you murmur, stepping closer. "Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?"

He doesn’t answer. Just wheezes.

Pity. You were hoping for more of a fight.

Ronin shows up at your apartment less than an hour later, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Where’s my new friend?" he drawls, cracking his knuckles.

You tilt your head toward the bathroom. "Tied up. Not much fun, though."

His grin sharpens. "Fuckin’ knew ya had it in ya, baby."

When he sees the guy—slumped against your shower wall, wrists bound tight—Ronin practically purrs. He crouches low, brushing a blood-specked thumb across the stalker’s cheek, and laughs.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, eyes flicking to you. "Ya really are somethin’ else."

"You’re disappointed I didn’t let you have him first," you tease.

Ronin leans back on his heels, gaze lingering on your face like you’re his favorite kind of crime scene. "Ain’t disappointed. Proud of ya."

It’s the truth—you can feel it in the heat of his stare, the way his smile curves sharper. He’s proud. Because you didn’t need him to save you. Because you’re just as much a monster as he is.

And God, if that doesn’t make him love you more.

By the time Ronin’s finished with the guy, there isn’t much left. Nothing that’ll be missed.

"Y’know," he muses later, lounging on your bed with his bloodied hands behind his head, "if anyone else so much as looks at ya funny, I’m takin’ their eyes as a souvenir."

You roll your eyes, crawling onto the mattress beside him. "Possessive much?"

His smile widens—feral and unrepentant. "Always. Ya like it, don’t lie."

And maybe you do.

Because the devil doesn’t share.

And neither do you.

[spiderlilywritings]

a rotten angel's retribution

Trigger Warnings: blood, gore, murder, graphic depictions of violence

You've always been a good person.

At least, you try to be. Your parents always taught you to keep your head down. Keep calm and keep your temper in check. Be kind. 

"Do unto others what you want done unto you."

And for the people who wronged you, let them be. Karma will find them one day.

You took their words to heart. You always tried to be kind, to grow into someone they're proud of.

—But overtime, you came to understand that this fucked up world devoured kind people. Chewed them up and spit them out as a hollow shell of their former selves.

In Uptown's Purgatory, sickening wet sounds pierced through the otherwise quiet night. 

The scent is disgusting. It makes you hurl. The dead body you're thoroughly beating with a metal pipe is ugly. But alongside disgust, elation coils in your gut.

The person that tormented you so long ago is finally gone. Gone because of you. Tears streamed down your face (what are you doing? shouldn't you stop? you're better than this. stop. stop. stop. sto—), but slowly, slowly, soft giggles started escaping your lips.

You've always been a good person. But the Devil had ways of corrupting you. Or... no, instead of corrupting you, making you turn to the dark side or whatever cliché term that people liked to use— maybe the Devil was your key. Maybe he unlocked that ugliness that was already festering inside your heart and from there, you let that ugliness consume you.

Your parents must be disappointed. Maybe they're rolling in their graves, screaming and crying in heaven at what you've become. Those heavenly gates never looked so far away before.

A blood splatter there, a bone breaking here...

This person was beautiful when they were alive. And so very cruel. You kept your head down (like your parents always taught you, good people that wanted you to live a peaceful life), letting this person walk all over you like you were nothing but a dirty rag under their shoes.

"Karma will get them one day." You'd whisper, maybe to cope with the pain, the hate simmering within you. You prayed that some higher being would administer divine retribution.

Years passed. People went their separate ways. The pain and hatred seemed to have dulled. You thought you got over it. But seeing this person's face, realizing that they were still that awful monster that gave you nightmares all those years ago—

You figured it was time for one less trash in this fucked up world. 

If some higher being refused to give them the karma they deserved—

You'll be their karma.

It was easy enough to lure them to Purgatory. All you had to do was act like the scared little rabbit they remembered you to be.

And then, you grabbed the metal pipe. Broke their legs. Broke their arms. Ruined their beautiful face. 

Their screams were grating to the ears. Their blood looked dirty and black. Their innards looked like they were rotting, infested with every disgusting bug known to man.

You keep hitting. And hitting. And hitting. Until they're nothing but a pile of flesh, guts and gore. No matter how beautiful a person is, they're just a lump of meat in the end. 

When the adrenaline, the thrill of murder and retribution finally fades, a shaky exhale escapes your lips.

The pipe falls from your hands.

You look at yourself, covered in that person's blood. Gross. You looked like you were covered in tar.

You wondered if their soul was as black as their dirty blood. 'Hah... Tar soul...' You thought, like it was some sort of funny joke. You hope they end up in the deepest parts of hell. 

You sit on the dirty ground now, letting the aftermath of your brutality stain your clothes. Your gaze focuses on the body again, eyes blank.

All was silent.

"Well, well, well..."

Until the Devil's voice reached your ears. You turn, seeing Ronin casually leaning against the wall.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, darlin'." 

He comes closer, letting the blood stain the soles of his shoes.

You look away. "You need to get your eyes checked."

He laughs at your retort and you feel that familiar, fluttery feeling in your chest. You've always loved his voice. 

Stupid, beautiful, murderous Ronin.

You feel his arms wrap around you. "How was it, darlin'? Did you have fun? My sweet, little fallen angel, delivering divine retribution."

"...I didn't think of murdering them at first." You murmur. "I just... I thought maybe, they might have changed. Like... like character development." A choked laugh follows your words.

"I thought... they would realize what they did wrong. Try to become a better person. But then they opened their mouth and. And. I realized that they were still the same."

Ronin listens as you start to ramble, incoherent words merging together. You're spiraling. But that's to be expected from your first kill. You don't need to worry though. You're spiraling into hell, but the Devil's there. He'll catch you so you won't crash and burn.

"...Ronin? I don't get it. You said that this..." You gesture to the dead body. "This kind of thing was beautiful. I don't see any beauty in this at all. I only see a pile of rotten garbage. They're rotten garbage."

"Because that's all they'll ever be to you, darlin'. Trash in life. Trash in death. But 's fine. Beauty is subjective, yeah?"

"...Yeah." 

You bury your face in your hands. You didn't know what to do now. Laugh some more? Cry? 

"God... I..."

"Baby, there's no God in this purgatory. Just me. Just your Devil." Ronin whispers in your ear, just like a devil on your shoulder. "You did well." Ronin turns your head towards him and his lips make contact with yours. As intense as ever. With teeth and tongue, like he was devouring you.

"...Can you help me get rid of this trash?" You gesture to the lump of flesh after you broke apart.

"Sure, doll. Was plannin' to have a bit of fun tonight too, but there's no way I can leave my rotten angel all by their lonesome, now can I?"

#announcements

<goreboy>: Congrats, @/killerwriter your murder Dropped this morning.

www.killer-news.com/gruesome-murder-at-purgatory-a-new-killer-strikes

#main

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>: AYO??? LOOT DROP! LOOT DROP!

<hitmeupppp>: omg a murder from the enigma themself?! finalllyyyy!

<Angelic>: wow @/killerwriter you can't even recognize them. excellent work

<killerwriter>: yes

<killerwriter>: well

<killerwriter>: let's say it was personal :')

<goreboy>: it was Glorious, was there Myself

<goreboy>: i posted some pics on #killer_shit too

<killerwriter>: ???

<killerwriter>: since when did you have time to take photos?

<goreboy>: I got My ways, baby

<killerwriter>: 🙄

<killerwriter>: the police suck in Uptown btw

divider by: @/fawndollie

[puzzledprose]

ronin x reader kc band au!!! maybe readers a fan or something

I’m a sucker for band AUs omg. I can imagine Angel as a vocalist, Ronin as a guitarist, V on the bass and Misaki playing drums. Their style would very much be something Vkei-esque with maybe some indie rock influence.

I also don’t feel like they would be a hugely popular band. They would probably be popular in their local scene, but otherwise pretty unknown. Also I find it a little more charming as an insufferable music person.

Band AU!Ronin x Fan!Reader

You two most likely met at one of Ronins shows. You had seen a flyer around for a band called “Slaughterhouse” and figured it couldn’t hurt to check it out. Best case scenario you find a new favourite band, worst case is that it stops you hunching in front of your laptop for a few hours.

The show was incredible. The band flowed together seamlessly, they each brought something unique to the performance, but one member caught your eye. Something about the band’s guitarist couldn’t help but grab at your attention. The way he carried himself in such a confident and indifferent way had you swooning.

But you weren’t fangirling, right? Of course you were.

Once the bands set was finished you took a small break and went to the venues bar to grab a drink. By the time you were seated and sipping on your drink of choice you noticed a certain crimson haired individual in the corner of your eye.

Internally you freaked out a bit before deciding to try and start up a conversation. Who knows? You might get lucky.

Somehow you managed to charm the boy. The conversation managed to flow easily. He challenged you with ridiculously casual flirting and you swung back with some snide remark. Still he left you on edge sometimes, effortlessly leading you along and blurring lines.

After some talking and probably an ill advised hookup let’s be real you two found yourselves committed! Which now means full time groupie duty for you. This usually involves working the merch stand or lending a helping hand during sound check, not that you mind of course.

Ronin loves it when you wear his merch btw. If he were someone else he would almost feel bad about how possessive it makes him.

He probably tries to teach you guitar, or if you already play an instrument he would love to jam with you!

That’s all for today! Hope you liked the fic. As much as I like Ronin he’s kinda scary to write lol.

[lav-is-writing]

Hey first of all love ur writing!!

Ronin x reader who has anxiety about him getting caught? I feel like it’s a interesting concept and I wonder how he’d react to it

Don't Worry, Darlin'

warnings: reader is anxious, ronin's kinda being rude :| (dw he gets better <3)

paring: ronin x reader

wc: 556

a/n: hello anon :] i see that you've asked lots of other killerchat writers this (guess we follow the same talented people <3) and I just wanna say that this probably isn't going to be as good, but I hope you like it :3 also lets pretend reader lives near him because I don't know what kind of vehicle Ronin has O_o

(username): but what if they catch you?

(username): What if they find the messages on my end and they find who you are

(goreboy): it’s fine, darlin

(goreboy): relax

(goreboy): i haven’t gotten caught in all these years, why would that change?

You resisted the urge to remind him of, I don’t know, your existence? The way he spoke with such confidence, insisting that he would be fine, it made you both worried and proud. Ronin didn’t want to cause you worry, but a part of you suspected that he wouldn’t tell you even if he was arrested. Why would he? If you got roped in with him, it was to jail with both of you, neither to ever see the other again. If only Ronin was caught, you could visit. 

The thought did nothing to ease your anxiety.

(username):  i don’t want you to get caught because of me

(goreboy): im telling you, i’ll be fine

(goreboy): don’t doubt the devil

Ronin smirked from his side of the screen, amused by your concern. Why would he get caught? Out of everyone in the server, he was easily one of the best ones at covering up his tracks (It would be someone else if you asked literally any of them besides you). Leaning back in his chair, he watched as you frantically typed another message, then deleted it, then started to type again.

He knew your anxiety was bad, especially when it came to him, but he couldn’t help it. It was funny seeing you get all worked up, and at times, he would simply disappear for a while to see what you did. At first, you acted fine, but then Angel reported the frantic texts and calls she was receiving, each accompanied by tears and desperate whispers asking about Ronin.

Guilt would always start to gnaw at him after a bit. Seeing his favorite little writer so distressed made him a bit anxious too (not like he would ever admit it). He would hop back into the server, message a lazy “hey” and watch you explode. 

But this? 

This was something that him returning wouldn’t fix.

(goreboy): how about this

(goreboy): ill come by and stay with you for a bit

(goreboy): then you can see that ill be fine

You agreed, leaving Ronin to pack up what he needed. A toothbrush, some clothes, random shit like a notepad, whatever he thought would be useful. Exiting his house, Ronin walked to yours, ignoring anyone who tried to speak to him on the way there. Upon arriving, he threw open the door.

Papers strewn across the floor with messy scribbles all over them. Notes for your novel, most likely. You tended to grow a bit obsessed with it whenever you didn’t have many people to talk to, as you could put yourself in a world of your own creation. Dirty dishes had piled up in the kitchen, electing a sigh from Ronin. He would have to clean that up later. 

“Ronin!”

He heard your voice before he saw you, tumbling out of your room and trapping him in a hug. Tensing, it took him a moment to relax and hold you back. The scent of your shampoo filled his senses as he rested his head in your hair.

“‘M here, darlin’, you don’t needa worry anymore.”

[6feathered6siren6]

waitt js thought of something , KC X a reader that's ACTUALLY a serial killer ? ?

Hidden in plain sight

Authors note: I promise I am still here, I got sick in the past couple days(and still sick) but I finally finished this piece. So sorry I didn't finish this a while ago when you requested, but I got stumped midway through, I also feel I didn't write well enough for it but here it is. I got a few more story drafts I'm finishing up(mafia kc au, the next chapter of constantly looping, a Misaki x florist reader, and the KC cast as the spiderverse.) So I have more to publish soon! (This is kinda hinted of Ronin x reader but can be viewed platonic as well)

Trigger warnings

Killing

Blood

Breaking and entering

-

Money was always an issue, making sure whatever debt you have left is paid for, taking shady deals or assassin missions. Whatever to pay for it, it was worth it. To pay that debt your family left you. Having multiple jobs run you dry at times, but you have a main job, as a journalist. It was a bright and joyful passion, finally getting a job that was normal…

But on the other side, your ‘other job’ wasn’t getting many hits lately. Either way, most of your clients don’t need the bodies, so you take it, and sell the parts to people, at least you get decent money from it. A bit more cash in your wallet. A bit more into freedom. 

One thing you didn’t expect was to join a server full of killers, and oddly enough, one was already hunting you down. K9, or V was hunting you down for killing a person you were contacted to kill, without knowing it’s you. Goreboy, or Ronin, doesn’t think you are, which is fine, you don’t care. Misaki totally thinks you are but not in the sense of what type of killer you are, or Angel becoming great friends with you. You helped Luca and Feli start dating. It was a sweet home-ish feeling from the server. 

–

You got a new kill mission from someone, they wanted an ex gone, and left the body to you, about 6 grand from the client and about 200 grand from the body. Not a bad payout, but they want the victim’s neck to be sliced open with a bloody message for the homewrecker. 

Looking up from your phone, you saw where the to-be victim lives. Nice place as well, a home, an expensive car, even the lawn is well-kept. A typical cover up story for the gruesome truth that lies inside. Sighing, you walked in, the ex never locked the doors, trusting the easy hackable security system to protect them. 

Easy job, easy money. Warm red liquid stains your hands as you write the exact words your client wants. ‘Fuck you Wench’. Taking a couple photos and sending it to the client, job done and money sent to your bank account. Now, picking up the body and taking it along with you. Each piece was important and is worth a lot. Spending a few hours cutting the body, storing it, then off to celebrate with a little food adventure on what fast food place is open at midnight was left on tonight's todo list. 

Carrying a body just to see Ronin in an alleyway? Now, that was nothing on your list of tonight’s todo list. The body drips blood from your arms while he looks at you, a bit in shock before laughing. 

“Now this is a treat before the devil’s eyes. A devine fallen from grace, but from how long ago?” His crowbar was soiled with blood, dripping from it. Seems fresh as well. Must have just killed someone.

You were still in a state of shock, this was the first time someone caught you. How are you supposed to react to this? Like, laugh it off and walk away, or say something about the weather? “Hehe… he… I- uhmm… I’m gonna go back to work.” 

Before taking a step away, he interrupts you, “Hey, stay right there.” 

Fuck.

When you looked back at him, he was right there, right in front of you. His smirk felt like poison, controlling you to stay there. “So what’s the story? Someone who pissed you off?” 

The body in your hands was getting colder, and it was losing blood. “No, just a hitman. I kill and get money, now you have a story, can I leave?” 

He raised an eyebrow, “And they want the body? Damn, Misaki wasn’t commissioned to bring a dead body back to their client before. You must be special.” 

You felt the hot air flow out of your nose, you were getting annoyed, you needed to get home. “No, I just sell the parts.”

His smile turned sinister, “Selling body parts? Damn, did not expect that one.” He looked proud, that you aren’t some innocent writer as he thought, but a killer, sinful like the rest of them. 

“I’m leaving, I’m losing money standing here.” You stepped away from him, you can’t joke with him nor play around. You need to go, the parts in the body can go bad soon. As you started walking away, you noticed Ronin following you. He still had his smirk on his face. “What are you doing?”

“Following you, Darlin’.” He said, like some kid who found the candy store, “I want to know how deep you are, how corrupted you are. How the innocent writer become a killer?”

“So curiosity? That’s making you follow me?” You said, the street lights were getting dimmer as you walked further in the alleys. You know these alleys like the back of your hand, so maneuvering through them was easy in the dark. 

“Sure, let’s call it that.” He continues to follow you through the alleys, looking around, like he’s gonna memorize the way to your place. You sighed, you don’t care anymore, you need these parts as good as they can be at the moment to sell them, and if entertaining Ronin is on tonight’s todo list, it doesn’t matter now. 

– 

Ronin was in your place, heck, in the room where you butcher the corpses. You were slicing the body open, and he watched, he was enjoying you pulling each organ out, but more carefully than he liked. But it was a show to him. 

You finally got everything done, everything was into bags and containers ready to be sold. You peeled off your bloody gloves and apron, putting them onto the counter. Ronin was clapping as he looked at the containers and bags, impressed. 

“Are you going to leave now? You had your show, Ronin.” You crossed your arm, you were hungry now. You wanted to eat something, then pass out. You have work in the morning and it’s already late.

“Come on, Darlin’? Pushing me away already? Here I thought I can at least treat you for the show you presented to me.” 

“I’m not going out to kill someone else.” 

He chuckled as he walked closer to place his arm around your shoulders, dragging you with him. “Nah. Let’s get some food.” He pushed you out of your butcher room, making you walk ahead. “Go and change, you can’t show how sinful you have been tonight.” He winked as you rolled your eyes.

“You make it sound like… Y’know what, nevermind.” You started walking away toward your room. Not seeing Ronin taking a few pictures of the butchered man, he was so going to show the rest of the server that the enigma of the server was like them. Not a lair. 

– 

#/killer_shit

<goreboy> 

Thought i should Share who I caught

[picture showing the butcher room with containers full of body parts]

[another picture of you holding the body, surprised at Ronin]

Never thought to Catch a Killer

<hitmeuppp> 

NO WAY!!! 

READER!! 

wait… 

RONIN WERE YOU IN THEIR PLACE!?!?

<u/n> 

RONIN WTF?!

<goreboy> 

Sorry darlin 

Had to show the Others

Since you kept It from Us

<Angelic>

The cuts look well done, and very carefully. You know your stuff, Reader!

<K9>

…

<goreboy>

Don’t worry, batman

they are a contracted killer

Earning money from their kills and the corpses they sell

<Hitmeuppp> 

GASP, READER!! 

HOW COME YOU DIDN’T TELL ME >:(

we could be buddies complaining about clients T^T

-

Well, there goes that secret, but you were glad they didn't ask why you were making the money for. That’s for another day in your opinion. Right now, you are gonna enjoy the food Ronin treated you and sleep, you have a morning meeting.

[mymelody58]

I COULD NEVER STAB MYSELF BUT SLAY IG

Reader x Ronin, alternate ‘good’ ending where instead of kissing or stabbing Ronin the reader decides to stab themself as a form of dedication to Ronin? He said he wanted a body, and they were more than willing for him to get their heart (literally)

I fear this may be too dark, so please ignore it if you don’t feel comfortable with it ❤️ I understand themes like this can be uncomfortable to write !!

Submitting Your Aorta to The Devil.

☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

Trigger Warnings

Gore

Blood

Su1c1d3

Spoilers for Ronin ending

Obsession

Ronin™

6 tws? Hah, that's a devilish number...

☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

This was the day.

The day on which you would meet your beloved Devil. Oh that man who drove you absolutely crazy. The man who made a fool out of you with words alone.

Now here you are, in front of the purgatory, dressed up for that special occasion in your favourite clothes. You put your hand to your heart, the organ was beating so loud, the sound was ringing in your ears.

You took a deep breath to calm you excitement before you stepped into the damned alley. There was gore splattered all over the walls, grafity hidden behind blood and guts, body parts laying on the ground like regular trash. Most people would throw up at such sight, but you my love are far from being like most people, your morality is gone at least most of it.

No normal person would stay in that server and dance with the devil just to end up wrapped around his fingers.

Ronin took his sweet time shaping you into whatever your current form was. He was your muse, but you were his canvas. The canvas he had complete control over...

You didn't have to wait long for him to arrive. You heard the sound of heavy steps from behind and a quiet chuckle, chuckle you know oh so well.

"So we meet!" He said, his voice excited and amused. You turned around and scoffed at his shit-eating grin.

"Always the devil Ronin Beaufort."

"Aren't you a pleasure?" He chuckled at your answer and walked up to you dangerously close. "Gotta say, seein' you in person makes me feel some type of way. An' I wonder how you feel about, well..." He paused and pinned you to the wall.

Mouth close to your ear, hot breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. Oh how beautiful your devilish lover is. You felt the blush creep onto your cheeks, your breath hitching in your throat.

"Do you like me now, darlin'?" His voice dark, full of mystery and fascination, The closure makes the butterflies in your stomach fight to rip it open and fly out of your body in a bloody massacre.

"I do." You replied without any hesitation. Why lie? The devil knows you too well anyway.

"Oh, to speak the truth, the truth, anything but the truth!" Ronin's eyes are full of confidence, and something else, something way darker that is buried deeper, deep enough so unwanted eyes won't see. "Write me a love note, darlin'?" He asked in mocking amusement.

"I know your name , I could end you." Lie. Of course you wouldn't end him. Your lungs are filled with him, your brain can think only of him. You could never call the police on him.

"Hah! Coulda, woulda, shoulda." He started, looking deep into you eyes. "You could end me, you should end me, but would'ja end me?" His whispers filled your ears, caused you to shiver under his gaze.

"..." You didn't answer, didn't have to. It was the devil's speech after all.

"I don't think so! Where are the boys in blue? Why is it jus' us in my favourite gruesome alley? Why is that even after knowing who I am, you still wanna see me?" He paused, moved his mouth closer to your ear. "Some might say you're obsessed, even."

You took a deep calming breath. You couldn't just play his way now, could you?

"Why did you invite me to the server?" You asked in the most collected voice you could get out of your vocal cords.

"I did it for you. You were starving, so i gave you insatiability. You wanted inspiration, so i became your muse. You wanted love, darlin', so I gave you love. Isn't it everything you ever wanted?" The sound of his voice made your whole body boil. You wanted to do so many things right now. But you needed to listen to him, his words were like some sacred speech that was the most important moment in your entire life.

"I think you always knew. C'mon, why didn't you leave? Call the cops? There were so many... opportunities." Another pause. "If I may... I think you're a little too in love." He sounded like he had the greatest time of his life, just fucking with your head like he always did.

He gave you a new form, a new way of life. Ronin made you feel alive again. Oh but how could you thank him for that? What would satisfy the Devil?

"I told you baby. I'm your little wish fulfilment. I'm what you dream of. Isn't this a story for the ages?" He smirked. "C'mon! Tell me what you want. Do you hate me? Do you love me? Are you gonna kill me? I've got a knife right here. Or are you kissing me, darling? How much do you feel?" These words were what you needed.

Ronin has told you so many times about taking your aorta. He used his threat of slicing your throat open as love confessions. He wanted a body. So why don't you give him what he wants?

You smiled sweetly, innocently even.

You slowly moved you body closer to his, brushing you lips against his. But before Ronin could kiss you back, you snatched the knife away from him and without any second thought you stuck the knife deep into your chest, but far from the heart to avoid the most important muscle.

Ronin backed away in surprise, watching with wide opened eyes as blood splattered around your chest, turning your clothes dark red. He held you by firmly by your waist, shock in his eyes.

"What the hell Y/N?" He asked, voice shaken.

"You wanted a body Ronin, so I am offering my own as a proof of how crazy I am for you. Claim my aorta, steal it while I am still conscious." You had to take deep breaths, mixed with coughs while you spoke.

Ronin's expression was a mix of shock, love, fascination and a small amount of despair.

He chuckled darkly and kissed you hungrily, after all it was the last kiss you will ever share.

"Your wish is my command, darlin'. I will claim your aorta, steal it beating and hot." He whispered against your lips and you could feel him cutting you deeper with the knife, making it easier for him to take what was being gifted to him as a form of sacrifice for his love,

As your mind was somewhere between reality and death you could feel Ronin's skilled hands move inside of your chest, the sound of breaking bone and tore flesh was like the finest song for your sick romance. Ronin's hands were stained with your blood, it looked like every piece of your body wanted to be connected to Ronin to leave a stain on him forever.

Before you took your final breath and Ronin took what he wanted from the depths of your chest, he placed a kiss to your forehead and whispered against your hair.

"Thank you for this wonderful gift, my twisted fallen angel." And with that your heart was kept safe between the devil's fingers, where it was from the very beginning and your lifeless body was gently laid down in the centre of the purgatory.

Oh, what a beautiful love declaration it was.