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killerelysia · 1 month ago

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

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

Happy Birthday, Ronin!

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Birthday.

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

Hey, I hope this is real..?

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

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 15k!

TW: Blood etc

How long!?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ronin—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See? Case in point,” he said, his smirk widening.

You huffed, turning away from him, but his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its usual sarcasm. “I’m not complaining. You being... you? That’s what makes it good. So don’t go trying to change it, alright?”

You turned back to him, your cheeks warm as you nodded. “Okay.”

“Good,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head. “Now go to sleep before you make me say more sappy shit.”

You smiled, nuzzling closer to him. “Good night, Ronin.”

“Night, angel.”

Ronin stretched out on the bed, his body heavy with the kind of groggy satisfaction that came from sleeping far longer than he usually allowed himself. He blinked a few times, his gaze shifting to the empty space beside him. You were gone.

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and he rubbed at his face. Fresh air, maybe? he thought, letting his arm flop onto the bed. He wasn’t the clingy type, a mantra he didn’t quite believe but stubbornly repeated anyway. Touch-starved, not needy EVEN NOT THAT!, he muttered internally, rolling out of bed.

Still, the quiet absence in the room felt louder than it should have. As he threw on his hoodie and padded down the hall, he shook his head.

Shut it, Ronin

His own voice in his mind was sharp, scolding. They’re not your lifeline, and you don’t need someone to hold your damn hand through every second of the day.

He paused at the door to the garage, his gaze drifting over the tools hanging neatly on the walls. Ironic, wasn’t it? How someone like him, who prided himself on rejecting everything Christianity had tried to hammer into his skull, found solace in someone like you. A figure who seemed to embody everything he’d hated about faith: hope, forgiveness, devotion. Yet, here he was, falling into step with you without ever realizing it. You weren’t an answer to a prayer—Ronin didn’t pray anymore. But somehow, you’d become something he couldn’t deny. Something he hadn’t planned. You left everything for him too. He knows it was for your own good according to him.

But-----

He scoffed under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair as he turned toward the basement. A flicker of movement caught his attention, and he followed it, his boots creaking against the wooden stairs as he descended.

There you were, sitting cross-legged on the floor with your phone, the screen glowing faintly in the dim light. You were so focused you didn’t even hear him approach until his voice broke the silence.

“What the hell are you doing down here?”

You flinched so hard your phone nearly flew out of your hands. “Jeez, Ronin!” you said, clutching your chest. “Can you not sneak up on me like that?”

His smirk spread slowly, a smug, lopsided thing. “I wasn’t sneaking. You’re just jumpy. Seriously, though. The basement? What’re you doing?”

You scrambled to your feet, your cheeks flushing as you shoved your phone into your pocket. “Nothing! I just… needed some fresh air.”

Ronin raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning even more stupidly amused. “Fresh air? In the basement? Yeah, sure. Makes perfect sense.”

You huffed, brushing past him and heading for the stairs. “I needed to think, okay? That’s all. Now go shower or something. I’ll make breakfast.”

He followed you up the stairs, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, his grin never fading. “You speed-walkin’ away like that doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’ What were you really doing, huh? Secretly plotting my downfall? Finding new ways to make me eat actual vegetables?”

You whirled around at the top of the stairs, pointing a finger at him. “Ronin, I swear, if you don’t go take a shower right now, I’m not making you breakfast.”

He leaned against the wall, tilting his head as he looked at you with a mock pout. “A threat? Really? That’s what we’re doing now?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “Because you’re being insufferable, and I have important things to do.”

“Important things,” he echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Like what? Let me guess, you’re planning to—”

“Go. Shower,” you interrupted, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You probably smell like… like murder or something.”

He laughed at that, a low, gravelly sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “Murder smells better than you’d think, angel.”

“Ronin!”

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going. But this breakfast better be worth it, or you’re never living this down.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as he finally turned toward the bathroom. As the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a sigh of relief. He was impossible, but… he was also Ronin. And that was enough to make you smile as you headed for the kitchen.

Ronin leaned back in his chair, his plate of food mostly untouched as he watched you. You were fidgeting with your phone, tapping your fingers against the floor, your knee bouncing with a restless energy he didn’t usually see in you. You were distracted, anxious—he could tell. The corner of his mouth twitched downward.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it, like he was fishing for something.

You froze, your eyes snapping to his like you’d been caught red-handed. “Nothing,” you blurted, clutching your phone to your chest. “Just… nothing important.”

His brow arched. “Yeah? ‘Cause you look like you’re planning a jailbreak or something. Come on, show me.”

You shook your head so quickly it was almost comical. “No, please don’t ask,” you said softly, your voice almost pleading.

That stopped him in his tracks. He wasn’t sure if it was the tone or the look in your eyes, but something about it made him back off. “Alright, fine. Keep your secrets,” he said, grabbing his fork and focusing on his plate instead.

The tension eased slightly as you took a breath, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there. But then, you stood abruptly, brushing your hands on your pants like you were gearing up for something.

“I’m going out,” you said, your voice a little too chipper.

Ronin’s fork clattered against his plate as he stared at you. “You’re what?”

“I’m going somewhere. It’s… important,” you said, heading toward the door before he could ask more questions.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “The hell do you mean ‘important’? Since when do you have places to be? All you know is this house. What’s so important you’re just up and leaving now?”

You hesitated, your hand on the doorframe, and then turned back to him with a nervous smile. “It’s something I saw online, and I’ve wanted to check it out in person for a while. I’ll be back, don’t worry.”

Ronin squinted at you, his confusion evident. You weren’t making any sense, and that only made him more suspicious. But the way you smiled at him—genuine, if not a little nervous—made him hold his tongue.

“Fine,” he said after a long pause. “Go do… whatever. Just don’t get into trouble.”

“I won’t!” you chirped, practically skipping toward your room to get dressed.

Ronin stayed at the table, staring at your empty seat with a frown. He’d told himself over and over that he wasn’t the clingy type, but your sudden departure left a sour taste in his mouth. It wasn’t like you to leave like this, especially not after you’d been so jittery all morning. And after the fall? You barely left the house unless it was with him.

He drummed his fingers against the table, muttering under his breath. “The hell is this about?”

The thought of following you crossed his mind for a split second, but he dismissed it just as quickly. He wasn’t that petty. Besides, you weren’t the type to run off and… see someone else. No, this was something different.

Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. His birthday was tomorrow, and while he’d never been the kind of guy to care much about celebrating, he’d been looking forward to spending the day with you. It wasn’t about the gifts or the attention—it was about having someone who actually gave a damn.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe you really had found something online and decided to check it out. But that didn’t explain why you’d been acting so weird.

he sat there, his thoughts swirling, he couldn’t help but feel a little… disappointed. For someone who claimed they didn’t care about birthdays, he sure was hoping this one would be different.

Meanwhile, in your room, you were frantically changing into something casual but nice, your heart racing as you double-checked everything you needed. You weren’t great at lying to Ronin—he could read you like an open book—but you’d managed to keep your plan under wraps.

Tomorrow was his birthday, and you wanted to make it special. Not just for him, but for you, too. It was the first birthday you’d get to celebrate with him as his partner, and you were determined to make it memorable.

As you slipped out of the house, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for leaving without telling him the truth. But if you could pull this off, it would all be worth it.

Ronin, meanwhile, stayed seated at the table, his thoughts gnawing at him. What the hell is going on? he thought, rubbing at the back of his neck. You weren’t one to keep secrets, and the fact that you had one now was driving him insane.

He didn’t know where you were going, but he wasn’t about to follow. He wasn’t that guy. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what you were up to—and why it felt like it had something to do with him.

After you left, Ronin found himself standing in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips, staring at nothing in particular. He muttered to himself as he finally picked up his plate and tossed the leftovers into the trash.

“Off doing some secret mission,” he grumbled. “You’re getting soft, Ronin. Too soft.”

Shaking his head, he decided to push the thoughts aside. There was work to do, after all. His garage was already buzzing by the time he headed out, and he quickly threw himself into fixing up bikes and cars, his usual clientele trickling in.

For the first couple of hours, he let his mind go blank, focusing only on the familiar rhythm of the tools in his hands. But as time went on, a different kind of restlessness crept in. Every time a customer walked through the door, he’d scan them, sizing them up, seeing if there was something interesting about them. Someone who deserved to end up on the wrong end of his crowbar.

Unfortunately, the day was as dull as they came. No one stood out—not even the cocky guy with a busted muffler who tried to haggle the price down.

Ronin sighed as he wiped the grease from his hands, watching the man leave. “Boring,” he muttered under his breath. “Pathetic. You’re all safe today, losers.”

After a few moments of silence, Ronin’s phone buzzed. His face lit up with a smirk as he saw the notification—his server chat, where he and his lovely crew always kept things lively. He opened it, and the first thing he saw was Luca’s message.

Luca (username: Luca): "So, how's your dear Angel from the sky?

Ronin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight chuckle that escaped him. Luca never changed.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Pathetic, Well, your opinion doesn’t matter, now does it?"

Feli (username: Felicite): "I hope they're fine? "

Ronin scrolled down, his phone lighting up with Angel's message right after.

Angel (username: Angelicc): "Hey, where’s Y/N? I thought you two were together today?"

Ronin paused for a moment, thinking about how to answer. He didn’t want to mention anything about you leaving; he didn’t want them to see that as a crack in the perfect image he liked to keep up. Not yet.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "They left. Said something about seeing something online. You know how they get."

Misaki responded almost immediately, and Ronin’s lips curled up into a smirk as he read her message.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Better not be some man/woman thing. You know Y/N’s too innocent for that, right? Can barely handle an app without getting confused."

Ronin snorted in amusement, knowing it was true. You were still getting the hang of apps, and there were so many times he’d had to explain things to you in the past. But he loved that about you, how... innocent you still were in that regard. He felt protective, even though he didn’t always show it.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "You’re giving them too much credit. They’re too dumb to even deal with that. They’re clueless about half the apps on their phone. But sure, let’s pretend it’s some big mystery."

Misaki shot back quickly.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Not really dumb. Pretty cute, actually. Wouldn’t you agree, Ronin?"

Ronin rolled his eyes. Misaki never could resist teasing him.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Yeah, they’re cute. That’s about it, though."

The messages from the server continued to pour in as he scrolled, his attention flicking between his phone and the work he had to finish. That’s when V’s message appeared in his inbox.

V (username: K9): Why do you sound so gloomy? Everything alright, Ronin?

Ronin’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the message, unsure if he should respond. V had always been quiet, and his sudden concern felt out of place. Why would V care?

He typed back quickly, trying to brush it off.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Yeah, I’m fine. Just dealing with some shit, nothing new. No need to worry about it."

But V didn’t let it go. Instead, he sent a follow-up message that immediately caught Ronin off guard.

V (username: K9): Seriously, though. You ever thought about what Misaki said? About Y/N?

Ronin stopped in his tracks, staring at the screen. What the hell did Misaki say? He hadn’t even processed it fully. Was V really pulling this line of questioning?

He smirked, typing his reply with his usual post-ironic attitude.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Since when did my angel start caring about Y/N?"

V (username: K9): It’s not about that. Just wondering if you’ve really thought about it. You’re kind of in deep with them, huh?

Ronin couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. He quickly typed out his response, brushing it off as he always did.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "No, I haven’t thought about it. Even if it’s true, I don’t care. Doesn’t change anything. Just a person, right?"

There was a brief silence on V’s end, but before Ronin could move on, Misaki’s message came flooding in.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Even if you think so, Ronin, you’re way too defensive. And don’t get me started on how cute Y/N is. No one else would look at them like you do, and you know it!"

Ronin’s smirk twisted into something more genuine. He didn’t mind their teasing—it was part of the game. But Misaki was right about one thing: you were special. He just didn’t have the words to explain it. Hell, even he didn’t fully get it.

He paused for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard again. Then, with a shrug, he typed.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Alright, alright, sure. But you all know what I’m about. Y/N can be anyone. They’re not the only one in my world."

There was a brief pause before Luca decided to chime in.

Luca (username: Luca): "Is that the case? Because I’m not so sure, man. I think you’re just mad because they left to go check something out. Don’t tell me it’s all part of some big plan to be ‘post-ironic’ again."

Misaki, though, immediately defended you, even if they hadn’t met you in person.

Misaki (username: Hitmeupp): "Don’t be an asshole, Luca. You know nothing about Y/N. You don’t get to say shit. Even if I haven’t met them, I can tell that Ronin wouldn’t be the way he is if they weren’t worth it."

The chat immediately went quiet after that, all eyes seemingly on Ronin to respond.

Ronin just sat there, his phone in his hand, considering his words carefully. Did they really think he didn’t know? But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t just a game like the others. You were his own twisted, confusing connection—and that was something no one in this chat could ever truly understand. He finally typed.

Ronin (username: Goreboy): "Yeah, maybe you’re right. Whatever, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it. We’re good."

And with that, he leaned back, the phone buzzing with more messages from the others, but his mind was elsewhere. Even if he acted like he didn’t care—hell, even if he convinced himself he didn’t—there was something different about you, something that made him want to keep this mess going. And for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing… or the worst thing to ever happen to him.

The air in the mall buzzed with a mix of soft music and distant chatter. You hadn’t expected to spend the day shopping, but something inside you knew you needed to find the perfect gift for Ronin. The kind of gift that wasn’t just about the usual routine, but something that spoke of your own emotions—something personal. It felt strange, this need to get him something that would signify the bond between you two, but you couldn’t shake the thought. After all, he was unpredictable, dark, and elusive in a way that made you want to prove your place in his chaotic world.

You walked into the store, the doors chiming softly as you entered. It was a gothic-themed boutique, filled with black velvet, chains, silver jewelry, and intricate designs that seemed to speak to a part of you that mirrored Ronin's own twisted love for all things dark and bizarre. A shopkeeper, a young woman in her mid-20s with sharp eyeliner and a soft, almost mischievous smile, greeted you immediately.

"Hello there! You’ve come to the right place," she said brightly, clasping her hands together. "We’ve got all sorts of goth accessories. Are you looking for something special today?" She leaned in closer, her excitement almost contagious.

You hesitated, but her enthusiasm made you smile. "I’m looking for something for someone," you replied, trying not to give away too much. "Maybe something… meaningful?"

"Oh, I love that," she gushed, nodding enthusiastically. "We have so many things that could symbolize, like, special connections!" She started leading you to the display, her eyes practically gleaming with the knowledge of all the dark, romantic pieces the store had.

The first thing she showed you was a set of chokers, each one adorned with gothic symbols and sharp, silver spikes. There was a particularly striking one that had Devil May God Forgive You engraved on it in intricate cursive. The leather strap seemed almost too harsh, too forward. You almost smiled, wondering if Ronin would appreciate it—or if he’d mock you for it.

"That one’s a classic," the girl said, catching your eye. "But maybe you want something a bit more, uh, subtle? We’ve got the sorry Christ one, if you’re feeling more... repentant." She winked at you as she pulled a smooth, black velvet choker from the shelf, adorned with a small silver cross, almost like a twisted apology.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. "Maybe not that one." The thought of Ronin wearing something like that made you feel both embarrassed and amused.

She didn’t seem deterred and moved on to the next set, showing you a row of necklaces with heavy silver chains, pendants shaped like daggers, skulls, and moons, each one glinting under the soft lighting of the shop. But nothing seemed right.

You continued browsing, feeling the weight of several bags already hanging from your arms. You had picked up a few things along the way—nothing for Ronin, but a few trinkets that spoke to your own taste, like a black mesh top that would look stunning on you and some more accessories for yourself. As you walked past rows of velvet jackets, platform boots, and studded gloves, your eyes landed on a small glass case in the back.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black satin, was a set of earrings—one pair stood out above the rest. They were elegant, simple, but undeniably gothic. Two ruby stones set in dark silver, their deep red hues striking against the cool tones of the metal. The moment your eyes fell on them, you felt a tug in your chest. That’s it.

The shopkeeper, noticing your gaze, practically floated over to you. "Ah, I see you’ve found them! Those are our best sellers." She gave you a knowing look. "Ruby stones symbolize pure love and passion, you know. I think that’s exactly what you’re looking for, right? Something that shows just how deep that connection is." She smiled sweetly, her voice softer now, almost as if she were reading you.

You blinked, a little startled by her insight. "Yeah, I think so," you replied, reaching for the case. The cool metal of the earrings felt smooth between your fingers, and you could almost feel them calling to you.

"Those are beautiful," the girl said, eyes sparkling with excitement. "And trust me, the stones are very meaningful. It’s like a declaration of something deep, something eternal. I think your person will absolutely love them." She grinned at you, her smile wide and warm, but her eyes seemed to be probing a little more than necessary, reading the situation in a way you couldn’t fully place.

"I’ll take them," you said quickly, not wanting to waste another second.

"Perfect choice!" she replied, practically bouncing as she wrapped the earrings carefully in black tissue paper, placing them into a sleek, black gift bag with a silver ribbon.

You grinned at her, almost feeling the weight of the gift in your hand before it was even given. There was something about the way she treated you like a kindred spirit that made the whole experience feel oddly... intimate.

After she handed you the bag, you spent the next few moments gathering the other bags you had collected during your impromptu shopping spree. But your attention kept flickering back to the earrings, the symbolism of the ruby stones, and how Ronin would react. It felt almost like you were giving him a piece of your own heart, a little piece of something that, no matter how dark, still burned with passion and meaning.

Once you had everything packed, you gave the shopkeeper a smile, and she waved goodbye with a kindhearted "Good luck!"

You wandered deeper into the mall, the weight of your shopping bags growing heavier with each store you visited. The bags clinked softly with various treasures you’d collected—everything from clothes with edgy prints to accessories that screamed emo-geek chic. Mesh tops, studded belts, and fingerless gloves found their way into your collection, along with some black denim and a hoodie that looked like it belonged in a gothic fairytale.

Every piece you picked out reminded you of Ronin in some way, as though each item was a part of a puzzle that would make him smirk or—if you were lucky—maybe even smile.

Then, you stumbled upon a quaint, old-fashioned sewing-on-the-spot shop tucked away in a quiet corner of the mall. The sign was hand-painted, the letters slightly faded, and the interior smelled faintly of lavender and aged thread. Curious, you stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling softly.

Behind the counter, an older woman with sharp eyes and nimble fingers sat, stitching something intricate onto a fabric square. Her gaze flickered up at you, assessing, before she offered a small nod of approval.

"Well, well," she said, her voice raspy but kind. "Haven’t seen one of your kind here in a while. What can I do for you, youngster?"

You hesitated, looking around the shop. "I was wondering... could you help me make something? A, um, beanie?" Your voice wavered slightly, but the old woman raised an eyebrow and set down her needle.

"Beanie, eh? What kind of beanie are we talking about? Don’t tell me it’s one of those devilish ones," she said, half-joking, though her tone carried a touch of judgment.

You blushed, feeling heat creep up your neck. "Actually, yes," you admitted sheepishly, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of one of your bags. "With little horns, maybe?"

The woman let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Kids these days," she muttered, but there was no malice in her voice. She motioned for you to come closer. "All right, let’s see what we can do. Pick a fabric."

You chose a soft, black material, perfect for a cozy yet rebellious look. As the woman worked, she couldn’t resist making little comments.

"Back in my day, we didn’t need to wear things with horns to stand out," she said, her hands moving expertly as she sewed. "Just a good attitude and a strong heart. Not like these flimsy trends now."

You couldn’t help but smile nervously, nodding along. "Yeah, I guess things are different now." You hesitated before adding, "It’s actually for my... boyfriend." The word felt strange on your tongue, almost foreign, but at the same time, it warmed your chest. Boyfriend. Was that what Ronin was?

The old woman paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of surprise and amusement. "Boyfriend, huh?" she echoed, her voice teasing. "Well, aren’t you the sweetest? Making something by hand, no less. That’s rare these days. He better appreciate it."

You blushed harder, feeling the weight of her words. The thought of giving Ronin the beanie, seeing him wear it, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "I hope he likes it," you said softly, your fingers brushing against the edge of the counter.

As the woman finished sewing, your ring finger caught on a stray needle, and you winced as a sharp sting jolted through your hand. A single drop of blood welled up on the tip of your finger. The pain was fleeting, but the odd thing was the spot it hit—right where a ring might go.

"Careful," the woman scolded gently, handing you a tissue. "Don’t want to ruin that pretty finger of yours."

You nodded, murmuring a quiet thanks as you dabbed at the small wound. For a moment, you stared at your finger, an odd ache blooming in your chest. It was as if the sting wasn’t just physical. Maybe it was the weight of all these emotions, or the fact that you were human now, no longer the celestial being you once were. It felt heavy, strange, but also... right.

"All done," the woman said, holding up the finished beanie. It was perfect—soft, black, with two small devil horns stitched on top. You smiled, your heart swelling with pride and gratitude.

"Thank you," you said, taking the beanie and carefully placing it in one of your bags.

Your next stop was the hardware store. The clean, metallic smell of tools and equipment greeted you as you stepped inside. You immediately made a beeline for the mechanics section, knowing exactly what you were looking for.

You grabbed a brand-new set of tools—everything from wrenches to screwdrivers—then spotted something that made you pause: a crowbar. It was sleek, black, and looked like it was practically made for Ronin.

He’d love this, you thought, picking it up. As you turned it over in your hands, you couldn’t help but imagine him holding it, smirking that cocky grin of his as he teased you about your thoughtfulness.

By the time you left the store, your arms were weighed down with even more bags, but your heart felt light. Between the beanie, the earrings, and now the tools and crowbar, you felt like you were putting together pieces of a puzzle that only Ronin would fully understand.

You entered the cake shop, the sweet, sugary scent of fresh-baked goods wafting through the air and immediately making your stomach growl. The shop was warm and inviting, with a cozy little kitchen at the back where customers could make cakes from scratch on the spot. It had a rustic charm, with wooden counters and old-fashioned decorations that made it feel like a place where magic could happen—where you could create something special with your own hands.

As you approached the counter, one of the ladies behind it looked up and smiled warmly at you. "Oh, how cute! You're going to make a cake? And for your boyfriend, you say?" Her voice was sweet and almost teasing, but there was genuine warmth in her eyes as she looked at you.

"Yeah... it's his birthday tomorrow," you replied softly, feeling a blush creep up your neck. It felt a little strange saying it out loud, but the words "my boyfriend" felt more real every time you said them. You smiled at the thought of Ronin, his dark eyes, his sarcastic smirk... and that weird, almost tender side of him that you knew was there.

"Well, aren't you sweet? A special cake for a special guy. What are you making?" she asked, clearly eager to see your creation.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. "I think... an apple crumble cake. I found a recipe from someone... she’s really good at baking. It’s a surprise."

The lady's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Apple crumble cake, huh? That sounds delicious! Well, we'll make sure you do a fantastic job. Just follow the steps and take your time."

You nodded, feeling reassured. This was your chance to make something perfect for Ronin. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him enjoying something you made just for him.

With a deep breath, you rolled up your sleeves and began.

Apple Crumble Cake Recipe Steps:

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). You carefully adjusted the oven, feeling a slight excitement building in your chest. It was the first step to making the cake come to life.

2. Prepare the crumble topping. You took a bowl and combined the dry ingredients for the crumble. You mixed together 1 cup of flour, 1/2 cup of sugar, and 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon. Then you added 1/2 cup of cold butter, cutting it into chunks before using your fingers to rub the butter into the dry ingredients until it formed a crumbly texture. The buttery scent filled the air, making your mouth water in anticipation.

"Looking good!" the lady behind the counter said, noticing your progress. "You're doing great!"

You smiled shyly and continued, feeling a little more confident. You set the crumble aside, ready for the next step.

3. Prepare the apple filling. Next, you peeled and sliced 3 medium apples, cutting them into thin pieces. You sprinkled 1 tablespoon of sugar and a pinch of cinnamon over them, tossing them together in a bowl to coat the apples evenly. The sweet aroma of the apples mixed with the cinnamon made you feel cozy, almost nostalgic.

4. Mix the cake batter. In another bowl, you combined 1 1/2 cups of flour, 1 teaspoon of baking powder, and a pinch of salt. In a separate bowl, you whisked 1/2 cup of sugar and 1/4 cup of softened butter until creamy. You added in 2 eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Then, you alternated adding the dry ingredients and 1/2 cup of milk, mixing until the batter was smooth and thick.

5. Assemble the cake. You greased the cake pan and poured the batter into the bottom, smoothing it out evenly. Then, you carefully arranged the apple slices on top, creating a beautiful layer of apples. Finally, you sprinkled the crumble mixture over the apples, making sure every bit of the cake had a sweet, crunchy topping.

"You've got this!" the lady cheered as you placed the pan in the oven. "Just bake it for about 45 minutes, or until the top is golden and the cake is cooked through."

You set the timer, your excitement building as you imagined Ronin's reaction. The cake was still baking, but you could already picture him, leaning against the counter, that smirk tugging at his lips as he took the first bite.

As the cake baked, the sweet smell of apples and cinnamon filled the shop, making your stomach rumble again. The lady at the counter was busy helping other customers, but she occasionally glanced over at you, giving you encouraging smiles.

When the timer finally went off, you carefully pulled the apple crumble cake from the oven. The golden topping and the caramelized apples glistened in the soft light of the bakery, and you couldn't help but feel proud. It looked perfect—just like the surprise you wanted to give Ronin.

"Wow, that looks amazing!" one of the other ladies exclaimed as she came over to inspect. "You're a natural!"

You blushed, feeling shy again. "I hope he likes it."

They all gathered around, admiring the cake with smiles, their eyes twinkling with warmth. "He’s going to love it," the first lady said, "and it’s so sweet of you to make it for him yourself."

You grinned, feeling a wave of happiness wash over you. Despite all the nerves and the uncertainty about Ronin's feelings, you knew one thing for sure: this cake, this surprise, was your way of showing him just how much you cared.

"Thank you so much for your help," you said, handing over the empty bowls and utensils. "This really means a lot to me."

"No problem at all, sweetie!" the lady said, her voice full of affection. "You come back anytime if you need any more help."

With a cake box in hand, filled with your creation, you left the shop, feeling more confident than ever. You had the perfect gift for Ronin, and you couldn’t wait for tomorrow to see his reaction.

It was going to be a birthday he would never forget.

You were struggling to carry all the bags, your hands full of everything from gothic jewelry to new mechanics equipment and the ingredients for the cake you’d just made. The weight of it all made your arms ache, and you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed as you tried to juggle everything. You were so focused on keeping everything from falling that you didn’t hear your phone ring at first.

When you finally glanced at the screen, you saw Angel’s name flashing in bold letters.

"Hey," you answered, trying to sound casual as you shifted the bags in your arms, feeling your fingers beginning to cramp. "What's up?"

"How are you?" Angel’s voice came through, light and cheerful, but there was a slight teasing undertone. "Seems like you left Ronin’s early this morning, huh?"

You bit your lip, trying to focus on walking straight without tripping over your own feet. "Yeah, just bought stuff... a lot of stuff," you said, a sigh slipping from your lips. "I don’t even know how I’m gonna carry all this back."

Angel laughed lightly. "Sounds like you’ve been busy," she teased. "You know, if you want, I can get a taxi for you. Just send me your address, and I’ll make sure you’re all set."

You glanced around, the thought of navigating the rest of the trip home with all this in hand was making you more exhausted by the second. "It’s fine, really. I can manage," you said, though your voice had a slight tinge of defeat. It wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate her offer, but you didn’t want to seem like you couldn’t handle it.

"Okay, but seriously, let me know if you change your mind. Don’t be stubborn," she replied with a chuckle, then her tone shifted slightly. "So, um… do you think it’s okay if the server keeps Ronin tomorrow for a while? I mean, just to give you some space, you know? It’s his birthday, and… well, I was thinking it might be nice if he gets a little time with the others."

You paused for a moment, contemplating her question. It was a small thing, but it was also a little strange to think about. "Yeah, that’s fine," you replied, your voice a little softer now. "Ronin’s not the type to care about stuff like that. He probably won’t even notice."

Angel’s voice was warm, a little teasing but understanding. "Well, I’m sure you’ll make up for it later," she said with a wink in her tone. "You’ve got all that cool stuff, right? And that cake—he’s gonna love it."

You smiled at the thought, the cake was a simple thing, but you were so proud of it. "I hope so," you replied. "I just... wanted to do something nice for him."

Angel's voice softened. "I know you do. And I think he’ll really appreciate it. But hey, if you’re ever overwhelmed, you know you can always reach out, okay? I’ve got your back."

"Thanks, Angel," you said quietly, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. "I appreciate it."

you were walking, your thoughts still scattered between the bags, the cake, and tomorrow’s plans, you suddenly felt a jolt—someone bumped into you, knocking into your arms. The bags in your hands swayed dangerously, and for a second, you thought everything was going to fall, the cake included. You gasped, eyes wide as you fumbled, barely managing to catch everything in time.

“Woah, sorry,” a deep voice rumbled from behind you. You froze. That voice. You knew it all too well.

You slowly turned, looking up to find a man standing before you. His dark, piercing gaze met yours, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat in confusion and wariness. V.

He looked at you, his expression unreadable, before speaking in that familiar gravelly tone that always sent shivers down your spine, “I’ve seen you before, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

Your mind raced. V? The same V who hated Ronin? The one who had crossed paths with him multiple times, their rivalry simmering just beneath the surface, full of unspoken tension? Your instinct told you to be cautious, to step back, but you tried to keep your composure.

“It must be a coincidence,” you muttered quickly, trying to brush past him. You didn’t want to deal with this right now. Ronin’s strange behavior, the looming sense of tension you’d been feeling—it was all enough without running into V at this exact moment.

But V’s next words stopped you in your tracks. “Stop,” he said, his voice low, almost commanding, like Batman on a bad day. There was a certain weight to it, something that made you freeze even though you didn’t want to.

His intense gaze stayed locked on you as he stepped forward, taking some of the bags from your hands. You hesitated, feeling a strange knot form in your stomach. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—it was just… unsettling. The tension between him and Ronin was something you could never ignore. You didn’t want to get caught in the middle of whatever that was.

“You’re carrying a lot,” he said, his tone still dark, but strangely softer now. “Let me help you.”

For a moment, you considered refusing, but there was something about the way he said it, his presence overwhelming in that strange way, that made it difficult to refuse. Reluctantly, you handed over a few more bags. As he adjusted the weight, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he carried them, his strength almost unnerving. The silence between you both felt thick, oppressive.

You looked away, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling growing inside you. "Thanks... I guess," you muttered, trying to move on. “I’ve got it from here.”

V didn’t say anything for a moment, but then his eyes flickered toward you, and you felt like he was seeing right through you. Something about the way he observed you made your skin crawl a little. It wasn’t malicious, exactly, but it felt like he was studying you—like there was something about you he was trying to figure out.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, his voice softening just a little. “You look... a little off. I’ve seen that look before. You don’t have to hide it.”

You blinked, startled. “What look?” You hadn’t realized you’d been so transparent, but there was something about his presence, something in the air, that made you uneasy.

He seemed to smile, though it wasn’t one you could read. “It’s nothing.” He stepped back, giving you space as you adjusted the bags, your heart racing slightly. “But be careful. Not everyone is who they seem to be.” His voice had taken on a warning tone now.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you nodded, unsure of what to say. Was he warning you about Ronin? Was he talking about the things that had been on your mind all day?

“Thanks for helping,” you said, your voice uncertain but polite as you tried to turn away, ready to get back to your task and leave this strange encounter behind you.

V didn’t follow you, but his eyes stayed on you for a beat longer than you’d expected. You walked away quickly, feeling that unsettling gaze on your back, and for a moment, you thought you could still feel it—the weight of someone’s eyes, watching, tracking you.

It was almost as if it reminded you of Ronin, of how he would sometimes seem to observe you while you slept, even though you knew he was just close, close enough to keep you safe in his twisted way.

But you shook that thought away. That was probably just your mind playing tricks on you, wasn’t it? Ronin wouldn’t do anything weird. Right?

You fumbled with the bags, feeling the weight of them pulling on your arms as you approached the house. The familiar sight of Ronin's garage was there, quiet and dim. But as you approached the front door, something caught your attention—there was an unusual silence. The door was locked. You frowned, pulling out your keys, only to realize you had forgotten them inside.

A brief pang of frustration hit, but you dismissed it quickly. No big deal, you could sneak in through the basement. The back door wasn’t locked, after all.

You shuffled toward the side, carefully placing the bags down so they wouldn’t spill open, the cake still nestled in its box, precariously balanced between them. It wasn’t easy carrying all this, but the thought of making Ronin happy, especially with his birthday right around the corner, kept you motivated.

You crouched and entered through the basement door, the cool air immediately wrapping around you like a cloak. It was a little darker down here than you expected, but you didn’t mind; you were used to the shadows. The basement felt like a safe haven to you, hidden from the rest of the world.

But as you moved deeper into the cluttered space, your foot caught on something. Tires. They were placed in a rough pattern, almost like they were meant to trip someone up. Before you could stop yourself, your foot slipped, and you stumbled forward, bags flying out of your grip.

The cake box hit the ground with a dull thud. You gasped, feeling the tears rise at the thought of the cake being ruined, all your hard work for nothing. You quickly knelt, fumbling to check on the condition of the cake. You hadn't realized the position it had fallen into yet, but you couldn't think about that too much. You needed to make sure it was still in one piece.

"Dear Maria!" you muttered under your breath, but before you could stand up, a pair of hands wrapped around your neck from behind, fingers tightening in an almost suffocating grip. Your breath hitched, panic flooding you instantly. You didn’t have to see who it was to know. You’d felt his presence before.

Ronin Beaufort.

“Where the hell were you?” His voice was low, demanding, the usual mix of frustration and something darker. “What were you doing with V?”

You froze, the air squeezing from your lungs. You hadn’t expected him to catch you here, not like this. You felt your heart race, and your thoughts scrambled, trying to find the right words. You hadn’t even known V was following you, or why he was even there. “I—I don’t know,” you stammered, the words tumbling out. “It’s nothing. I didn’t even know it was V until I saw him in person. He just bumped into me. I swear, I didn’t do anything.”

Ronin’s grip tightened for a second, as if to gauge the sincerity of your words. The tension in the air between you both was suffocating, his presence so overpowering it was almost like he could feel every little movement you made.

But then, just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, his fingers loosened, and he pulled away. You gasped for air, blinking rapidly, the relief short-lived as you tried to make sense of what just happened.

Ronin stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes unreadable, before he spoke again. “Sit.” His voice was flat, but the command still rang in your ears. “Sit in the chair.”

You glanced up, your eyes still a little wide from the shock. The chair in the corner was always a spot he used for moments like this, though you didn’t exactly know what to expect. You hesitated for a second, then slowly shuffled toward it, feeling like a puppet on strings, your body moving of its own accord.

You lowered yourself onto the chair, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. The bags were scattered, and the cake—it had fallen. You didn’t dare to look at it fully yet, too scared of what you might find.

Ronin didn’t sit; instead, he remained standing, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes flickered toward the box that had once held the cake. “What the hell is going on with you?” he asked again, his voice softer, but no less piercing. "You’ve been acting weird."

You felt your stomach twist at his question, not sure how to answer. You wanted to explain that it was just a moment of panic, a slip of the mind, but the truth was, the feeling had been building for a while now—this strange tension, this overwhelming sense that you weren’t sure of anything anymore. You didn’t know how to explain that to him, or if he would even understand.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I... I’m fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. But deep down, you weren’t sure if you were lying to him or to yourself.

Ronin stood there, arms crossed, his usual detached expression masking whatever turmoil was swirling beneath the surface. The basement was dim, and the faint light from the overhead bulb cast harsh shadows across his features. His posture was slack, but his eyes—his eyes were sharp, always watching, always searching for the tiniest crack to slip his hand into.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of your apology settle in your chest. The tension between you both felt like a thick fog, pressing down on everything you wanted to say, but you forced yourself to speak through it.

"Ronin… I’m sorry for what happened the other day. Brushing you off like that… I know it was wrong. But there was a reason behind everything. It might sound like an excuse, but… will you listen?"

He raised an eyebrow, the typical edge in his voice softening, if only slightly. His usual demeanor was more guarded, but you saw a flicker of curiosity beneath the hardness. Still, his reply came with a bite.

"What is it, darlin’? Better not be some bullshit reason. I won’t forgive you if it’s bullshit."

Your heart pounded. You could almost feel the weight of his eyes, scrutinizing you, as if he could see through every single hesitation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Tomorrow’s your birthday, right?"

His gaze hardened instantly, but the surprise in his eyes was unmistakable. You could feel the weight of his surprise hanging in the air. It was the first time in a while you had seen him at a loss for words, and for a moment, you thought he might break that post-ironic façade of his.

You continued, not letting the sudden shift in his expression distract you. "That’s why I wanted to celebrate. So I’ve been preparing this whole time. I was talking to Angel, looking through shops that could maybe help with the cake… I was debating what would make for a good present. I… I really wanted it to be a surprise."

He was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, as though he was running over your words, trying to understand the meaning behind them. His eyes softened just a fraction, and for a moment, you thought maybe you were getting through to him. But then, his voice cut through the silence—laced with confusion and that familiar edge of sarcasm.

"Then why didn’t you tell me?" His tone held an odd mix of frustration and disbelief, as though the concept of you keeping something from him didn’t quite sit right. "What the hell do you mean 'you wanted to surprise me'? You didn’t think I’d want to know?"

You bit your lip, guilt gnawing at you. "Because I wanted it to be a surprise, so I figured it would be better if you didn’t know," you admitted quietly. "I’m sorry."

He let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "God," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his face with his hand. "So you’re saying because of that, I got the wrong idea and got mad without a reason? Shit… I was completely thrown by Misaki's stupidity." The confession seemed to deflate him a little. His usual bitterness faded as he took a step back, arms uncrossing as if some of the tension in his body was finally being released. You didn’t know what to say at first, but you knew you had to push through it.

"I truly am sorry," you murmured, glancing up at him through your lashes.

Ronin smirked, though it wasn’t one of his usual mocking grins. "By the way, don’t you see? I’m your average pretty anti-Christ devil Family friendly serial killer, you know?" He said it with the same post-ironic tone he always used, knowing full well how ridiculous it sounded, but that was exactly why he said it. For the rise it would get from you. "Did you really think I’d celebrate every single birthday still?" You blinked, feeling a pang of discomfort at the sharpness of his words. Still, you couldn’t help but feel the underlying vulnerability in the way he said it, like he was testing you, poking at the idea to see how you'd react.

"No," you replied softly, your voice just above a whisper. "Even if you are one… even if you are someone else, it’s still your birthday. And I… I think it’s important." You hesitated for a moment, your fingers twitching slightly. "It’s the day you were born into this world, after all. I’m happy to be with you. That’s what matters to me."

His eyes flicked to you, their depth now unreadable. The room was silent for a few moments, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the corner. For a split second, you thought maybe he would brush it all off, that usual detachment settling back in.

But then, a small, almost imperceptible shift happened. Ronin’s eyes softened, the sarcastic edge fading. "Don’t go acting all sweet on me, alright?" he muttered, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if it was admiration or something darker, but you saw a trace of something real in his words. His expression didn’t soften entirely, but you could feel the walls he’d put up around himself, crumbling just a little.

Ronin’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. The tension in the air shifted, becoming thick with something unspoken as his eyes drifted down to your hand, where your ring finger had a faint bruise from earlier.

Without saying a word, Ronin reached out, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently held your hand. You blinked in surprise, not expecting him to do anything about the injury, but when he leaned down and pressed a soft, almost hesitant kiss to the spot where you’d hurt yourself, a shiver ran up your spine.

“What…?” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, heart fluttering at his sudden gentleness.

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he gently licked the spot where the wound had been, as if trying to soothe it, his eyes never leaving yours. The act was unexpected, but his usual edge of sarcasm was replaced by something almost tender.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Put a small bandage on it. You don’t need to make a big deal out of it.”

You hesitated, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. "It’s a small wound," you said, trying to downplay it, but his gaze hardened slightly as he pulled back.

“Shut up,” Ronin snapped, though his words were softer than usual. There was no malice in them, just a kind of raw affection that he wasn’t quite ready to admit. He then let out a small sigh, his lips curving into a smile that was rare but real. “You’re lucky I’m even treating you like this, darling.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his gruffness, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “Okay…” you replied innocently, your voice almost teasing despite the situation.

Just as you were about to say something else, a loud alarm suddenly blared from your phone. The sound sliced through the moment, making you jump in surprise. You glanced at the screen, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the notification.

Midnight Bell. It’s his birthday.

You froze for a moment, eyes wide in realization. Your breath caught in your throat, and a burst of excitement rushed through you. It was finally his birthday. The moment you had been preparing for had arrived.

Ronin, for once, didn’t seem irritated by the sound. Instead, his eyes darkened slightly, as if he had been expecting this moment too. “Well, well,” he said, his voice low, a dangerous smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “It’s about time, huh?”

"Ah… the midnight bell…" you muttered, your hands trembling slightly as you glanced at the time.

Ronin's voice was a drawl, almost bored as he stared at you, but you could hear the subtle amusement beneath it. “...The date changed.”

You laughed nervously, fumbling for words. “It’s your birthday! Congratulations, Ronin!"

"Yeah..." he replied, voice quiet, almost indifferent, but you could see a faint smile tugging at his lips. The sort of smile that made your heart skip a beat, despite yourself.

Your thoughts quickly turned to the cake. Present? You thought. Oh no... I forgot the cake... The panic surged within you as you realized what you’d done. “Aahーー!!”

Ronin’s eyebrows raised slightly at your sudden outburst. " What’s your problem!? Suddenly shouting like that..."

You tried to steady your breath. "The cake... I forgot I dropped it..."

Ronin's gaze shifted to the side where the box lay carelessly on the counter. "Cake? ... could it be that box laying over there...?"

You winced. "Y-Yeah... When I tried to come sneakily but you.. I accidentally..."

"God..." he muttered, shaking his head but not with anger, more like exasperation. It was almost endearing in a twisted way.

You lowered your head, feeling embarrassed. "S-Sorry!!"

Ronin gave you a look that could’ve been a warning, but then his lips curled into a smirk. "Pfft! You're making a funny face. ...There we go."

He effortlessly walked over to the box, picking it up with a casual motion. You couldn’t help but watch him. The cake had obviously been ruined by the fall—cream spilling out from the sides, a far cry from the masterpiece you’d envisioned—but Ronin seemed unfazed.

He tilted the box toward his face, his gaze flicking between you and the cake. The squirt of cream against his finger was almost… intimate. He tasted it with a smirk, licking the finger clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Well... it’s a little ruined, but it’s not bad, you know?" Ronin said, his voice dark and laced with amusement.

You stood there, unsure how to respond, staring at the disaster of a cake. "I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to..."

He leaned in, his expression sharpening into something more dangerous, more teasing. "Tch. Don’t apologize so much. It’s not the end of the world, darling. But now..."

The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional chuckle that escaped Ronin’s lips as he leaned back against the headboard. The cake—though squashed and imperfect—lay between you both, a symbol of the night’s chaotic charm. You’d tried to make everything perfect, but it seemed you were always a step behind with Ronin, always stumbling, always flustered.

It was his birthday now, and you still couldn’t shake off the worry that you hadn’t quite done enough.

You sat across from him, hands shaking slightly as you tried to prepare the cake. "Ah... Well, here it is," you said, the corners of your mouth curling up nervously as you presented the nearly ruined cake. "I—I’m sorry it’s not perfect..."

Ronin, with that same signature smirk of his, peered at the cake before his eyes flicked to you. "Tch, you’re making that face again. No need to apologize." He let out a chuckle, leaning over and inspecting the cake as if it were something strange he’d never encountered before. "It’s fine. I’m gonna eat this one."

You blinked, taken aback. "You will?"

"Why not? It’s your hard work, right?" Ronin teased, then grabbed the box from the table. "Let’s see what you made for me."

You tried to suppress your smile as he leaned back on the bed, unceremoniously digging into the cake, licking the spilled cream from his fingers with a casualness that both startled and excited you.

"See? Not so bad after all," he muttered, flicking his eyes toward you. His eyes softened a bit—just a bit. "Don’t sweat it."

You nodded, relieved, though there was still a sense of nervousness running through your veins. "Actually... I have a present for you, too," you murmured, feeling the rush of embarrassment flush your face. You hadn’t expected to feel so vulnerable tonight, but Ronin had a way of making everything feel... amplified.

"A present?" Ronin arched a brow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I’m listening."

You took a deep breath before reaching over and pulling out a small, carefully wrapped box. The ruby earrings inside glimmered softly under the dim light. "I... I noticed you always wear one in your right ear, so I thought this color would suit you."

Ronin’s gaze flicked over the gift, his expression unreadable at first. Then, with a brief chuckle, he responded, "Fitting for me... Hah. This gemstone’s bright red, just like your blood, after all."

You paused, stunned for a second. "W-What?"

He waved it off, his smirk never fading. "Kidding. It’s fine. The color... it’s fitting."

The words hit harder than you expected. "It’s passion," you added softly, your fingers brushing against the delicate box. "And pure love... something like that."

Ronin’s eyes softened, just a fraction, as he looked down at the earrings. "Passion, huh... Pure love..." He chuckled lightly, the sound soft but carrying that familiar edge. "Thanks."

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest as the conversation shifted.

"Let’s just eat the cake already," Ronin muttered, clearly not in the mood for any more speeches. "I’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but tonight’s special."

You smiled as you picked up a fork, cutting a piece of the cake. "Alright, alright, let me just get you a piece."

As you handed him the piece of cake, Ronin leaned back and gave you an almost bored look, his eyes half-lidded. "Hmph. No offense, but eating it like this would be boring."

Your brow furrowed, confused for a second. "What do you mean?"

"Feed me," Ronin said, his voice almost mocking, though there was an unmistakable demand to it.

You blinked, your stomach flipping. "Eh!? No way!"

"Why not?" he said with a raised eyebrow, not even bothering to look at you directly. "You’ve been going on about listening to me, right? Well, now it’s time to put that into action. Don’t make me repeat myself."

You felt heat flood your cheeks, but before you could protest further, Ronin was already leaning forward, cutting a fresh piece of the cake for you.

"Here," he said, holding the cake up to your lips. "Open up."

You blinked, feeling your heart race as you stared at the piece of cake hovering just in front of your mouth. It was absurdly intimate, and yet, in some twisted way, it felt... natural. You could already feel the edge of Ronin's gaze on you, and there was no escaping that look.

You sighed, giving in. "Fine," you murmured, opening your mouth just enough for him to feed you.

As you took the bite, your heart pounded even faster. Ronin’s eyes never left you, his smirk returning in full force as you chewed the cake slowly.

"Good, huh?" he teased, his voice low and almost dangerous.

You nodded quickly, trying to suppress the nerves threatening to spill over. "Y-Yeah. It’s good."

Ronin watched you for a moment, amused by your flustered state. "Now it’s your turn," he said, his eyes glinting. "Feed me."

Your eyes widened. "No way! That’s—"

"Do it," he growled, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. "You said you’d listen, didn’t you?"

The command in his voice was unshakable, and despite your reluctance, you found yourself leaning forward, holding the cake between your fingers and lifting it to his lips.

"Alright, alright," you muttered, your face flushed with heat. "Ahn."

Ronin’s eyes gleamed as he leaned in, accepting the cake, his gaze sharp and possessive as he chewed slowly, savoring the moment. "There we go," he murmured. "Now we’re even."

You swallowed, trying to control your racing heart. It wasn’t the cake or even the birthday celebration anymore—it was something else entirely.

Ronin leaned back on the bed, wiping his mouth lazily with the back of his hand after finishing the last bite of the cake. A grin stretched across his face, almost too smug. "Heh. Is that all?" he teased, the tone in his voice making it clear he was enjoying every second of your flustered state.

You, however, had a different idea. Your smile widened with something darker, more playful. "Not quite," you said, standing up and brushing crumbs off your lap as you moved toward the door. "You see, I may have something else for you... something more... interesting."

Ronin’s eyebrows arched, clearly intrigued, though he didn’t rise from the bed just yet. "More?" he asked with a mix of amusement and suspicion.

You only gave him a sly grin before disappearing out the door, reappearing moments later with bags—bags upon bags, the weight of them evident as you dragged them behind you.

Ronin’s expression shifted. "What the hell is all this?" His voice held a note of both amusement and disbelief as you began pulling the bags one by one into the room. "You’ve got more of this stuff hidden in your basement?"

You nodded, smiling sweetly as you placed the first bag next to him. "Oh, there’s a lot more downstairs," you said casually. "I figured you’d like them."

Ronin’s eyes widened, his interest piqued. "A whole damn basement full of... what, presents?"

You shrugged, not bothering to give away all your secrets. "You can say that. I figured I should really get something special for you. You know, for all the things you’ve done."

Ronin just stared at you as you unloaded the contents of the first bag, his gaze narrowing as he saw the items in front of him. First, there was a beanie—black, perfectly styled, just like the one he always wore. He couldn’t help but smirk, though there was a slight confusion in his eyes.

"Nice," he muttered, running his fingers through it. "But, uh, I’m starting to wonder... how many damn bags do you have?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you continued pulling out more bags, each one filled with more extravagant, bizarre items: dark, emo clothes, studded jackets, chains, ripped jeans, and layers upon layers of black fabric that screamed both punk and chaos. Ronin looked at them, then back at you, eyes flicking with disbelief. "What... is all this?"

"And..." you said with a dramatic pause, pulling out something else, "your crowbar." You placed it next to him with a flourish, like it was the final piece of a grand display. "A new crowbar separately for your work, the one you’d want."

Ronin blinked, his gaze switching from the crowbar back to you. He was visibly taken aback, mouth slightly agape. "How the hell did you get all of this stuff, Y/N?"

You sat down beside him on the bed, your fingers lightly brushing against his as you gave him a sly, confident look. "Well... let’s just say I saved up all the tips you gave me."

His eyes widened further. "You—what? How long has this been going on?" He let out a low whistle, his disbelief turning into a mix of admiration and something close to shock. "I didn’t realize I was such a great tipper."

You shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Hey, it’s fine. ." You leaned forward, your voice lowering as you added, "It’s just... the least I could do."

Ronin’s expression softened, though there was a tinge of something else in his eyes—something like warmth mixed with the confusion of being overwhelmed by your unexpected generosity.

He looked down at the piles of presents in front of him, the crowbar, the clothes, the beanie, everything carefully picked out and perfectly fitting for his twisted sense of style. After a long pause, his voice finally came, gruff but sincere. "Thank you," he muttered, meeting your eyes. "This... this is a lot. I didn’t expect... all this."

You smiled, your hand resting gently in his as you gave a soft squeeze. "It’s nothing, really. You’ve given me so much... I just wanted to give back." Your voice softened as you added, "I’ll always find a way, even if it means saving every penny for months."

Ronin took a deep breath, trying to suppress the emotions welling up in him. He shook his head, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his usual smug facade. "You’re insane,"

Ronin smirked, leaning back against the counter as you nervously brought the slice of cake closer. His plum-colored hair framed his face, and those sharp eyes of his glinted mischievously as he leaned in.

Now, He wants to shut up!

"Good, just like that, transfer it to my mouth…" he murmured, voice dripping with playful mockery.

Your cheeks flamed as you complied, but before you could even think of pulling back, Ronin’s lips grazed the fork—and your fingers, on purpose, of course.

"Mmm… Nn…" he mused exaggeratedly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as you fidgeted.

"Ronin! Seriously—!" you protested, pulling your hand back.

He leaned in closer, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "What? You’re blushing like crazy, darling. Was it that good?" He chuckled darkly. "Gotta say though… it was delicious."

You turned your head, already flustered, but his gaze pinned you in place.

"Wait, darling," he said casually, his voice dropping. "You’ve got some cream stuck on your mouth. Sit still. I’ll get it for you."

Before you could react, his thumb brushed over your lips, but instead of wiping it away, Ronin leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste the sweetness from your skin.

"Nn… Sweet," he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Ronin! " you gasped, trying to squirm away, only for him to suddenly push you back against the counter.

"Ah—!"

"Damn…" he muttered, pinning you beneath him, his breath hot against your ear. "It’s your fault for moving, darling. You know better than to disobey me."

"Let me up—!" you stammered, your heartbeat thundering as he hovered over you.

"Not a chance." His voice was low and teasing, laced with a hint of danger. His eyes burned into yours, and his smirk widened. "Now that you’ve got me all riled up… how about I skip the cake and gobble you up instead, hmm?"

Before you could even muster a reply, he leaned in, sinking his teeth gently into the crook of your neck.

"Ah—!"

Ronin groaned softly against your skin, savoring every moment. "Damn, darling… The cake was good, but this…" He licked his lips as he pulled back slightly, his breath hitching. "Your sweetness puts that lovely apple crumble to shame."

You tried to catch your breath, your fingers gripping his arms weakly. "R-Ronin… the cake… your presents—"

He silenced you with a low chuckle, his face impossibly close. "I don’t care about the cake. And the gifts? Yeah, those are nice too, but they don’t compare to you, darling. You’re the best damn thing anyone could’ve given me."

"R-Ronin…"

He pressed another kiss to your neck, humming softly. "Never thought I’d give a damn about my birthday, but if this is what it’s like… I could get used to it."

You felt your resolve wavering, his words melting into you like honey. "T-Thank you for being born, Ronin…" you whispered. "I love you."

His movements stilled for a moment, his gaze locking with yours. "Say that again, I love you too." he demanded softly.

"I love you," you repeated, your voice trembling.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "Good." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a ghost of a kiss. "Now, darling…" His tone dropped dangerously. "Don’t think for a second I’ll ever let you leave my side. You’re mine. Forever. Got it?"

His hand clasped yours tightly as he murmured against your lips, "I’ll treasure you, darling—always."

Forever, indeed.

A dream, A shame, the last thing you remember is being.....hit by the same man, you found peace out.

Hey why..?

Was I that painful to you? Did I become boring to you?

Or Did you give me the peace I wanted..?

#ronin beaufort #ronin killer chat #ronin x reader #killer chat ronin #killer chat #killer chat x reader #killer chat ronin x reader #killer chat ronin x you #ronin beaufort x reader #kc ronin #visual novel #fanfic #killer chat angel #killer chat V #Misaki #Killer chat Misaki

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elysiaheaven2 · 5 days ago

Text

𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗚𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘- 𝗥𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻 𝘅 ��.𝗡 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 (Part 1)

Used to be on @elysiaheaven

This is the request!!

01: Host-Pathogen Interface

Words:4000

Genre: Red Room Reader (G.N) Gore

Summary: A sadistic captor fucking you <33 livestreams their torture, taunting a shackled victim while performing brutal acts for an online audience. They theatrically respond to viewer suggestions, twisted glee, blending dark humor with horrifying violence. The chat eggs them on, turning the view into a grotesque spectacle.

This happens before you meet Ronin! (Basically

Trigger Warnings:

Graphic Violence: Depictions of physical harm, torture, and injury.

Self-Harm: Indirect references to bodily harm or deterioration (e.g., breaking nails).

Psychological Torture: Mental manipulation, humiliation, and emotional distress.

Gore: Detailed depictions of blood, injury, and bodily harm.

Blood: Intense, graphic descriptions of bloodshed.

Trauma: Psychological and physical trauma inflicted on the victim.

Moral Corruption: Exploration of a character’s lack of remorse, twisted logic, and corruption.

Content Warnings:

Disturbing Imagery: Vivid descriptions of torture, suffering, and victimization.

Emotional Manipulation: Using guilt, fear, and despair to torment the victim.

Organ Donation: The idea of using a victim’s organs for medical purposes, which could be seen as dehumanizing.

Dark Humor: The use of dark humor surrounding violence, suffering, and exploitation.

Exploitation: The character finds satisfaction in the suffering of others.

Dehumanization: Treating the victim as an object or tool for personal satisfaction or manipulation.

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named Killer chat! Please play it! It's so good!

⟡ The show must go on

Welcome dear viewer, Read the warnings before reading this hell!

"Breaking news! A monster in human skin has committed atrocities beyond murder! This criminal, vile and unrepentant, has torn apart not just strangers but their own family as well. They didn’t stop. They didn’t care."

The reporter extended their hand toward the screen, fingers trembling as though desperate to reach those watching.

"These acts are beyond comprehension. What they’ve done is worse than death itself. If you see this person, don’t hesitate. Don’t hide. Report them immediately."

The screen flickered, and the reporter leaned closer, their hand trembling slightly as they pressed a button. A distorted image appeared—grainy yet unmistakable. A face. Vacant eyes stared out from the screen, their expression hauntingly neutral, as though untouched by the chaos they had wrought.

“This is the face of the devil walking among us,” the reporter whispered, voice low and quaking with disgust. “You won’t find them easily. Authorities haven’t. But their trail is marked by the missing… the abused… the broken. Those they left behind whisper of horrors too ungodly to repeat.”

The screen darkened, leaving a reflection of yourself staring back from the glass. You smiled, slow and crooked, as if the image had shared an inside joke only you understood. With a quiet chuckle, you turned, your steps echoing in the hollow hallway. Not toward the comfort of a home, but to your sanctuary.

Not Your office. It was a special place.

Sliding into the chair, you reached for the camera and flicked it on. The red recording light blinked to life, casting its glow across your desk. The scene you’d prepared came into view.

Ropes. Tools. A backdrop streaked in abstract patterns of red. The room smelled faintly of copper and bleach, but it didn’t bother you. Your stream began with a soft, almost gentle giggle. But it grew, morphing into something jagged and unsettling. The sound of it filled the small room as your viewers began flooding in, the chat bar rolling with their messages:

“What’s tonight’s special?” “The Pathegon's back!” “Are they still alive?”

You leaned in close to the lens, your breath fogging the glass as your giggle shifted to a low, manic whisper:

'Let's start the bloodbath!"

The first thing they noticed was a pounding headache.

Clicking… sharp, deliberate, like nails tapping against glass.

Their eyes cracked open, blurry shapes bleeding into focus. Kneeling on the cold, unyielding floor, arms wrenched above their head, they tugged instinctively—only to hear the heavy clatter of chains.

You stood in front of them.

"Right on time," you said, your voice slicing through the silence like a blade. "It’s 9 p.m."

They flinched, jerking against the restraints, but the chains held fast.

Their gaze flickered to you, wide and desperate. You tilted your head, watching them with a cool detachment, like they were a bug caught under glass.

"Where—?" Their voice broke, trembling.

"Try to remember," you interrupted, your tone as lifeless as the expression on your face.

"It hurts… You said you’d help me," they rasped, panic rising in their throat.

"I did," you replied, calm and matter-of-fact. "I took you away from the police, didn’t I?"

"But…" Their voice cracked. "I saw the news! It said I ran away!"

You smiled then, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach the eyes.

"You did." As you spoke, they darted frantic glances around the room, trying to make sense of their surroundings. Their eyes locked onto the cold glare of cameras, all pointed directly at them.

"Don’t worry," you said, voice unnervingly casual. "We’re going live in two minutes. You don’t need to worry about the police—they won’t catch you."

Their mouth opened, a protest forming, but you had already turned away, your attention fixed on the array of equipment surrounding you.

Their stomach twisted as they took it all in: monitors, wires, and blinking red lights.

"What the hell! Are you filming me, you sick—"

"Shh, shh!" you interrupted, a finger pressed to your lips as you glanced over your shoulder. "We’re starting."

You turned back to the screen, your tone shifting to something unsettlingly cheerful.

"Hello, everyone! How’s the feed?"

You weren’t talking to them anymore.

Their confusion turned to horror as your voice softened, addressing a live audience.

"Hihi! Everyone’s here! Oh, Goreboy, play nice in the chat, no bullying tonight!" Your fingers flew across the keyboard, tapping rapidly as you giggled, the sound high-pitched and unnerving.

"Yes, yes! We’ll pull this guy’s guts out!" you typed, glancing at the screen with glee. "Oh, Goreboy, that’s perfect! Love the creativity, even if you’re not donating. Your ideas for gore? Chef’s kiss."

The person on the floor thrashed against their chains, a strangled scream tearing from their throat. You looked over your shoulder at them, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Relax, it’s a metaphor," you said with mock reassurance. "We’re just going to do something… small. Don’t worry."

"What the fuck is this?!" they shouted, their voice cracking with panic.

You tilted your head, the grin slipping into something colder. "Radio silence," you said sharply, holding a finger to your lips. "You’re ruining the vibe."

"This isn’t a fucking show!" they cried, their voice trembling with hysteria.

You crossed the room in three deliberate steps, crouching down to their level. Your hand reached out, gripping their face tightly, forcing them to meet your unyielding gaze.

"What you did," you whispered, your tone venomous, "was justice, wasn’t it? You made choices—choices that led you here. So, tell me…" Your grip tightened slightly, enough to make them wince. "What the fuck makes you think you deserve anything better than this?"

Their breathing came in ragged gasps, their eyes wild with fear and disbelief.

You smiled then, a slow, deliberate curve of your lips, and released them, standing up and brushing your hands off like you’d just handled something filthy.

"The show must go on," you announced brightly, spinning back to the camera. "Alright, chat, who’s ready for the main event?!"

You turned back to the camera, fingers dancing over the keyboard as you laughed, a sound that sent a chill through the room.

"Chat, you won’t believe this one," you said, voice dripping with giddy malice. "Our guest tonight? Oh, they’re not just anyone. No, no, no! They’ve got a history. You wouldn’t think it, looking at them now, but…"

You spun around to face them, your eyes glittering with a deranged light.

"Should we tell them, hmm? Should we talk about how you snapped and tore your own family apart? Oh, I bet chat would love the details—the blood, the screaming, the mess you left behind."

Their face drained of color, their chains rattling as they thrashed. "Shut up!" they yelled, their voice cracking.

"Shut up?" you mimicked, tilting your head like a curious predator. "Why? Is it because you remember? You remember how it felt, don’t you? The rush, the heat, the way the knife felt in your hand as it went in again, and again…"

" "Stop it!" they screamed, their voice breaking into sobs.

"Oh, but why should I?!" you barked, your voice rising with manic energy. "You did it, didn’t you? You made sure they’d never stand in your way again. Your own family. And for what? Some twisted idea of justice? Some self-righteous, pathetic excuse for power?!"

They shook their head violently, tears streaming down their face. "I didn’t—I didn’t mean—"

"‘Didn’t mean to’?!" you interrupted, a sharp, mocking laugh escaping your lips. "Please. Save it for someone who cares, because here’s the thing—chat loves this shit. They eat it up. You? You’re a goldmine. The more depraved you are, the more twisted your story, the bigger the payout. And trust me, I’m going to milk every single second."

You leaned in close, your voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "Oh, and let’s not forget the other things you’ve done. The theft, the blackmail, the drugs…" You giggled, pulling back with a theatrical flourish. "You’re an all-star of illegal shit, aren’t you? Chat! Can we get a round of applause for our guest here?"

"Good evening, everyone!" you chimed, your voice bright and saccharine as you gazed into the camera. "I’m so glad you could join me on such short notice—Oh? Oh, Goreboy! Missed me, huh?" You let out a soft, teasing giggle. "Chat! Can you believe it? Goreboy’s being sweet tonight! Usually, they’re my harshest critic. What’s that, darling? Missed my streams that much?"

You laughed again, high-pitched and lilting, the sound dancing unnervingly in the air.

"Yes! Yes! My delightful patrons of exquisite taste, welcome back!" you said, raising your voice theatrically, your arms spreading wide as if to embrace your audience. "The block is gone, babies! I’m back and better than ever."

Your expression shifted subtly, a crack in the cheerful mask, though your tone remained syrupy sweet.

"And boy, do I have a treat for you tonight!" you cooed, spinning dramatically toward the camera. "Rottenlings, meet our fresh face! Please give a big, warm hello to Victim No. 66!"

You stepped aside and gestured mockingly toward the chained figure behind you.

"I plucked this one straight from the hands of justice itself," you announced with a flourish. "Oh, the police? They think they ran away. Poor, clueless idiots! But don’t worry, chat. I’m here to make sure justice gets served properly."

The person on the floor squirmed, their eyes darting toward the glowing monitor. Their heart sank as they realized what they were seeing: a live video feed of themselves, surrounded by a scrolling chatroom full of excited, laughing messages.

People were watching.

"You sick fucks!" they screamed, straining against their chains. "Why aren’t you calling the police? What’s wrong with you?!"

Your sharp, manic laughter sliced through the air like a knife.

"Oh, you poor, stupid thing!" you sneered, turning back toward them. "Do you think they care? Do you think anyone in this room—" you gestured at the screen, the chat still buzzing with twisted excitement— "is on your side?"

You leaned in close, your grin wide and predatory.

"This is Goreboy’s arena, sweetheart. Big win for them tonight, huh, chat?!" You shot a playful wink at the camera, then turned back to your captive, your expression mockingly soft.

"You’re begging them? Them?" you laughed, louder this time, your voice echoing around the room. "Oh, honey. You don’t beg for mercy here. You entertain."

The person trembled, their voice breaking into raw, desperate sobs. "Please! I’m sorry! Just call the cops! I’ll do anything!"

You tilted your head, feigning pity.

"Another one for the beg bucket, chat!" you teased, your voice sing-song. "Honestly, I don’t know why any of you bet on these fools. Mr. Duck, sweetie, let’s see how your other bets fare tonight, hmm?"

The chat erupted in laughter. No one called the police. No one even flinched.

You turned back to the screen, reading another message from Goreboy.

The chat erupted in laughter. No one called the police. No one even flinched.

You turned back to the screen, reading another message from Goreboy.

"Oh, Goreboy!" you said, giggling as you typed. "That’s disgusting! Hahah! Maybe later, hun. One day we’ll meet, but not now. Patience, my dear!"

You hit send, then turned back to your captive, the grin fading into something colder, sharper.

"Now," you said, crouching down to their level, your tone like ice. "Let’s see if you can make this interesting, Victim No. 66."

They tried to pull away, but their hands were bound—shackled together and chained tightly.

"Alright, my lovely audience! Place your bets! What should I do next, hmm?"

"AHHHHHHH!"

Their scream echoed sharply as you yanked their finger back with a brutal, deliberate twist. The sound of bone grinding against itself cut through the air, sickening as always—but you didn’t falter.

"Oh? Should I fix it for you?" You teased, your voice lilting with mock concern before grabbing the mangled finger again. Without hesitation, you forced it back into place. The wet crunch of it snapping back made bile churn in your stomach.

But you laughed—loud and cruel. "Hah! Just kidding!"

And then, with a merciless twist, you snapped the fingers holding the knife they’d dared to wield.

Screams. Screams. A melody sweeter than any you’d ever heard.

Turning sharply, you faced the computer, a smirk splitting your face.

"Well, well! A donation like that deserves my full attention! Fingers again, madam? Oh, you know me so well."

You chuckled, eyes narrowing on the username. "Ah, Goreboy suggested that one? You always know how to make me smile. You should visit me more often, you know—I’d love to see you in my streams, but you never act on it. Tsk, tsk. Let’s not skip ahead, shall we?"

With a theatrical flourish, you bowed low, a sick mockery of grace.

"Now then, my darlings—let’s see what we can do!"

You straightened up, spinning on your heel as you stalked back toward your captive, menace dripping from every step.

You glanced at the screen again, the bright flicker of another donation lighting up your face. The amount was juicy, and the request? Deliciously cruel.

You giggled—soft at first, then sharper, like broken glass grinding against stone.

“Well, well, what do we have here? ‘A clean slice this time,’ huh?” You read aloud, eyes glinting with dark amusement. “I like the way you think. Quick and clean—but where’s the fun in that?”

The knife glistened in your hand as you turned back toward them. It wasn’t elegant—worn, slightly rusted along the edges—but it did its job. And tonight, its job was simple.

“Don’t squirm,” you cooed sweetly, crouching down to meet their tear-streaked face. “You’ll ruin the show for everyone.”

Their eyes widened in horror as you grabbed their hand, gripping their trembling fingers one by one as if you were inspecting them.

“Let’s start with this one, shall we?”

The blade pressed against their skin—cold, biting. You didn’t hesitate. With a sharp pull, you sliced through the first finger, the knife slipping through flesh and bone like paper.

Their scream ripped through the air, a raw, broken sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“Ohoho, there we go! That’s the sound I wanted—don’t be shy, darling, let it out!” You glanced over your shoulder at the camera, giggling as blood splattered across the floor. “Are you all hearing this? Such raw emotion. Truly unmatched!”

Another donation alert flashed. Your eyes sparkled.

“Oh, another request! You all spoil me!” You gripped the next finger tightly, blood slicking your palm as you lined up the blade once more. “Shall we keep going? I think they have a few more fingers to spare, don’t you?”

The knife cut down again—swift, unrelenting. Another scream, another bone snapped, another rivulet of blood trailing to the floor.

You couldn’t help but laugh, head thrown back as you bathed in their agony.

“Ahhh… music to my ears.”

Turning to the camera, you grinned, lips and cheeks splattered crimson.

"You were always so… predictable," you said, eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. "Begging, pleading… You never even tried to fight back, did you?"

Chop. Another slice, this one to their thigh. The skin split with a sickening sound, a cry of agony escaping their lips as they tried to curl away from you, but there was nowhere to go.

The blade danced in your hand, a fluid motion, as you shifted positions to stand over them. The chains that held them were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to you. They could barely move, their arms and legs bound, while you towered over them, each strike faster, sharper, more merciless than the last.

Chop, chop, chop.

The rhythm of it was almost musical, a cruel symphony played out with the sounds of metal biting into flesh, followed by their pained gasps and helpless cries. Blood splattered, staining the floor beneath them, staining your hands, your clothes.

Their body was slick with blood now, each movement an agonizing reminder of how helpless they were, how trapped they’d become in this nightmare. They whimpered, desperate for it to end, but you weren’t done yet. You never were.

You pressed the blade deeper, feeling the pulse under their skin, the warmth of blood soaking your hands. A twisted smile curled on your lips, but it wasn’t a smile of satisfaction—no, it was something far colder. The silence between the strikes had grown deafening, and now, you spoke again, your voice sweet and venomous.

“Do you know what’s funny?” you whispered, your breath hot against their ear, a cruel contrast to the sharpness of the blade. “You think this will end soon, don’t you? That this... torture, this agony, will stop when you beg enough. But the truth is, you’re not dying tonight.”

Their eyes flickered in confusion, exhaustion, desperation. “What... what are you saying?” they rasped, barely able to form the words through the pain.

“Oh, sweet, sweet fool,” you purred. “You really thought I’d end your misery. No, darling. You hurt them—your family, your loved ones—and now, I’m going to make sure you feel it. You’re going to remember the weight of what you did long after this moment, long after your body is no longer able to fight back.”

The blade hovered above their chest now, drawing slow, shallow cuts along their skin. Each mark was a reminder of the harm they’d caused, the consequences that would never leave them.

“You thought you could escape the aftermath of your choices, didn’t you?” you taunted, drawing out the words as if savoring the slow breakdown in their expression. “I’ll make sure you never forget. Every inch of your body will burn with the guilt you can never outrun. And when you beg for mercy again... remember, I’m the one you’ll answer to now.”

You stood over them, chest heaving slightly from the rush. Their sobs echoed in the room, broken and ragged, as they cradled their ruined hand to their chest. But you weren’t done. Oh no—not yet.

With a casual hum, you stepped back to the computer, wiping the blood-slicked knife against your shirt. The screen blinked again, another donation flooding in. You glanced at it, a wicked grin curling your lips.

“Ah, I see you all are in a particular mood tonight,” you murmured, voice soft but laced with menace. You grabbed a nearby folder—one you had prepared for this moment, knowing it would come. With deliberate care, you fanned the photographs out across the table, one by one, before turning back to your audience.

“Now, my darlings, it’s time to turn up the fun, don’t you think? We’ve had our share of blood—let’s break something deeper.”

You knelt in front of them, holding the first photograph up to their tear-filled eyes. Their gaze trembled as they caught a glimpse—a snapshot of someone familiar.

Their brother.

The photo was crisp, taken in that final, quiet moment before you got to him. “Look at him,” you whispered, your tone a mocking semblance of pity. “He was so peaceful, wasn’t he? Didn’t even scream when I—”

“STOP!” they wailed, thrashing against their chains, tears streaming freely down their face. You tutted, reaching out to grip their chin between your fingers, forcing them to look at the image again.

“Ah, ah, don’t look away. You owe him that much, don’t you? After all, you’re the reason this all started. You really shouldn’t have crossed me, sweetheart.”

You let the photo flutter to the ground and held up the next one. Their father this time—face slack, eyes empty.

“And him? Oh, he fought. I’ll give him that. A real family man, wasn’t he? Told me to spare you if I had to choose. Isn’t that sweet?”

Their sobs turned to screams—raw, desperate. They yanked at the chains, the cuffs cutting deeper into their wrists as they thrashed.

You laughed softly, soaking in their misery like it was the sweetest wine.

“Aw, don’t cry,” you crooned, brushing a bloodstained finger across their cheek. “They’re not in pain anymore. You’re the one who has to live with it now.”

You leaned in close, your voice dropping to a whisper, dripping with venomous glee.

“And when I’m done? I’ll make sure you see each and every one of them waiting for you. Won’t that be nice?”

You straightened back up, turning to the camera with a theatrical flourish, spreading your arms wide.

“Well, there you have it, folks! I’d say tonight’s stream is going splendidly, don’t you agree? Emotional devastation, physical ruin—everything you could ask for!”

A flood of donations pinged on the screen, the sound filling the room as you beamed at your audience.

“Keep those requests coming! After all…” You glanced back at your captive, their broken sobs barely audible now. “We’ve got plenty of time—and I’m far from done.”

The show did go on <3

"Why let a monster's body go to waste?" you murmured, your voice dark and chilling as you circled them, each word dripping with twisted logic. "Why let evil walk away unscathed when their heart could beat inside someone pure? Their lungs, keeping an innocent child alive, their hands, building a future for someone who deserves it. If their mind is corrupted, their flesh... their flesh can still redeem them."

You paused, the sharp blade gleaming under the low light. Their chest rose and fell in erratic breaths, their body shivering from more than just physical pain.

"You think this is torture, don’t you?" You chuckled softly, almost fondly, but the sound was anything but kind. "No, darling. What you're about to experience is... redemption. A form of cleansing that you’re far from ready for. You hurt people. You destroyed lives. Now, we make sure the world can still benefit from the leftovers of your broken, filthy soul."

With a cruel laugh, you reached for their hand, grabbing their wrist with the kind of brutal strength that matched your words. You dragged them forward, a twisted sort of calmness in your touch despite the violence in your eyes.

"How much would you beg for your own skin to be saved now? Would you fight back if you knew that every piece of you, every organ, could serve a better purpose?" You let the blade hover above their finger, glinting menacingly. "I’ve got no use for your nails, but someone else might. They’ll make a good memory for someone who knows how to truly suffer."

Each breath they took was ragged, desperate for release. But you weren’t done yet.

"You’re not dying, not yet. You’ll live long enough for me to make sure you never forget what you’ve done. Your body’s gonna be stripped of its evil, piece by piece."

You couldn't help yourself. The laughter bubbled up from deep within you, a dark, mocking sound that filled the space with an eerie resonance. It was a sound of triumph, of cruel satisfaction as you watched them break, piece by agonizing piece.

"You really thought you could hide from this, didn't you?" you taunted between fits of laughter, your voice shaking with cruel delight. "You thought you could walk away, escape the damage you caused, the people you destroyed. But look at you now."

Their screams intensified, raw and desperate, echoing off the walls like a symphony of agony. "Please! PLEASE! STOP! I DIDN’T MEAN IT, I DIDN’T—!"

After some time, the air had settled into a chilling stillness, the only sounds being the faint sobs of the broken figure slumped against their chains. You sat back at the computer, fingers dancing over the keys with practiced ease as you typed a single message into the chat:

“Will Send this one off to organ donation. All tonight’s donations will go directly to the little boy’s treatment fund. Isn’t that just heartwarming?”

The chat exploded. Messages flooded in, filled with adoration, awe, and sick fascination.

“You’re an angel!!!” “Saving lives AND giving us a show? King/Queen.” “I can’t believe how selfless you are! This stream is legendary.”

You leaned back in your chair, laughing softly—almost sweetly. Turning to the camera, you rested your chin in your palm, eyes gleaming as you scanned the incoming flood of messages.

“Aww,” you cooed, voice dripping with condescension, “I didn’t know you all cared so much about happy endings. It’s so touching, really. Sick fucks like you still want to feel good about yourselves? That’s cute.”

More comments rolled in, their tone shifting, teasing, and pushing:

“But YOU should’ve taken the organs yourself!” “C’mon, don’t you want to be hands-on with this one?” “We know you’re the real surgeon here. Give us some blood, maestro!”

You sighed dramatically, letting your shoulders slump as if their demands were such a burden. “You all really don’t let me rest, do you? Fine. Fine. Since you’re so persistent…”

You stood, rolling your neck with a quiet crack before grabbing a nearby surgical kit—polished steel tools neatly arranged and waiting, just for this. The captive’s head snapped up, their bloodshot eyes wide with renewed panic.

“No—no, no, no, please—” they choked out, words dissolving into incoherent sobs.

You ignored them completely, addressing the camera instead as you slipped on a pair of gloves, the snap of latex cutting sharply through the air.

“You asked for this. Remember that.” You picked up the scalpel, holding it up for the audience to admire. “Let’s get started, shall we? I’ve always been a fan of hands-on work.”

You stepped toward the body—your expression blank, detached, almost bored as you knelt beside them. The cold blade kissed their skin, tracing a slow, deliberate line just below the ribs.

“Now, I’m no doctor, but I do know my way around a body.”

The first incision split them open, and blood welled up instantly—thick, warm, dark. The room filled with wet, sticky sounds as you worked, hands steady and sure, your movements practiced like a grotesque symphony.

You paused briefly, glancing back at the camera, your gloved hands slick with crimson.

“There’s your blood, chat. Are you happy now?”

The chat erupted, filled with cheers, donations rolling in like a tide:

“YESSSSS BLOODDDD!” “This is art. You’re a god.” “More, more, more!!!”

You laughed again, the sound low and breathy as you reached deeper into the cavity, fingers curling around what you were searching for. You lifted the organ slowly into view, the slick muscle glistening under the dim lights.

“Well,” you murmured, holding it up for the audience to admire, “they won’t be needing this anymore, will they?”

Blood dripped onto the floor in a rhythmic patter as you turned to the camera one last time, a triumphant grin splitting your face.

“Don’t forget to donate generously, my loves. After all, we’re saving lives here.”

You worked with deliberate care, gently placing each organ into the sterile metal tray beside you. Liver, kidneys, lungs—each glistening under the dim light as blood pooled around them. The wet squelch of the final piece being set down echoed in the room like the last note of a haunting melody.

You straightened up, gloves slick with crimson, and turned back toward the camera, face illuminated by the screen’s soft glow. With a swipe of your forearm, you wiped a streak of blood from your cheek, your grin bright and satisfied.

“And done! There you have it, chat! A perfect collection. Hope you enjoyed tonight’s little… performance.” You gave the camera a theatrical bow, smearing your gloves against your chest. “All thanks to your generosity, of course.”

The chat exploded:

“You’re insane, I LOVE YOU!!!” “This stream was god-tier.” “BYEEE ANGEL, YOU’RE SO CUTE!”

You pouted playfully, tilting your head as you rested a bloody glove against your cheek. “Aw, you all know how to make me blush… if only I wasn’t covered in—” you gestured lazily to the gore streaked across your shirt—“well, this.”

Then, a message popped up that made you pause:

Goreboy69: “What now, darlin’? Gonna leave me hangin’? Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

You squinted at the chat, a half-smile curling on your lips as your fingers hovered over the keyboard. “Oh? Someone’s feeling bold tonight.” You typed quickly, your tone sharp but teasing:

“Leaving. Bye, Mr. Goreboy. Don’t miss me too much.”

The response was instant, his reply lighting up the chat like a flare:

Goreboy69: “Too late, sweetheart. Already do.”

You froze for just a moment, a flicker of something unspoken passing through your expression before you masked it with a sharp laugh. “Well, isn’t that sweet,” you murmured, shaking your head as you leaned toward the camera.

With one final look at your blood-splattered stage, you winked.

“Alright, my darlings. That’s it for tonight. Be good—or don’t. Either way, I’ll be back soon.”

You reached for the mouse, hovering over the “end stream” button as the chat flooded with protests and goodbyes:

“Nooo don’t go yet!” “Byeee CUTIE!!!” “Best stream EVER.”

You grinned one last time, your voice dropping to a low murmur, just for them:

“Goodnight, my loves.”

With a soft click, the screen faded to black.

You thought you will end your life with this.

Then, came a idea to write.

Then came him..

It had been almost a year since you and Ronin had been together, and things had been… comfortable, even in the darker corners of your shared lives. You’d both found your own spaces, with your gruesome world of streaming and his quiet, almost enigmatic nature. You had your gore, and he had his secrets. Neither of you had yet come to know the whole truth about each other. (You were the only one liar) He never suspected you were the streamer everyone in the underground chats adored—and you had no idea that he was Goreboy69, your loyal fan and the one who teased you so affectionately on the livestream

#ur-angel-or-yuor-devil-or writer darlin who's a maneater

[Angelic]- Y/n, you weren't online for some time.

[You]- I was busy ;-; Job was killing me

[Goreboy]- Darlin, There's a Angel Two now. But seriously did your boss made you Overwork again?

[Angelic]- Don't bully them, Ronin.

[Goreboy]- I'm not. I'm Worried Angel, They're My Partner

[You]- I'm fine, even my boss told to rest but I want to work for this case...I need to sleep tooo ahhhh!!!

[Goreboy]- Dm me. Angel. Sorry I'm taking my Lover for sometime.

[Angelic]- Since, when you start saying it that loudly ;)

[Goreboy]- Haha, Don't make me revive-

[Angelic]- Ronin, What the fuck?

After some time...

You settled into your chair, the glow of the screen casting faint shadows across your face as you stared at the video call. Ronin’s voice drifted through your headphones—smooth, teasing, always holding that edge of danger and flirtation. He lounged casually on the other side of the camera, the faint hum of his mic picking up the distant sounds of his apartment. His dark hair was mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed, the sly grin he always wore firmly in place.

The server call buzzed with energy. Truth or Dare had turned into its usual chaotic mess, but you didn’t care to play this time. Instead, you just kept pressing him for details about his latest… “hobby.”

“How’d your kill go, Mr. Crowbar?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you swirled your drink in hand.

Ronin’s eyebrow quirked up. He chuckled low and sharp, voice dripping with that same playful tone that always made you pause. “Now that’s new, darlin’. You never ask me about the details. What’s got you so curious all of a sudden?”

You shrugged. “Just in the mood. Humor me.”

Ronin’s grin widened into something sharp, something that tugged at the edges of darkness. He leaned closer to his screen, as if to close the distance between the two of you. “If you insist, sweetheart,” he purred, stretching his arms behind his head as though he were telling you a bedtime story. “Well, y’see, there’s somethin’ so poetic about a crowbar. Personal, messy, and it leaves a mark. You know exactly what did the job.”

“Of course it was a crowbar,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes. “Predictable.”

Ronin laughed—a deep, satisfied sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You wound me! Predictable? I call it classic. But since you asked so sweetly…” He leaned back, cracking his knuckles before continuing with exaggerated theatrical flair. “Guy was scum. The type of fella whose face just begs to be rearranged. A couple swings later, I turned his skull into modern art. … Abstract, really.”

You tried to mask the way your lips curled upward. You didn’t want to let him know how much his words intrigued you tonight.

“Messy,” you replied simply, voice cool as you leaned into your chair. “But I expected nothing less from The Devil’s Butcher.”

That earned a gleam in his eye. He tilted his head, watching you through the camera like he was seeing something just out of reach. “Hah. You’re full of surprises tonight, doll. Didn’t think my little bedtime stories were your cup of tea.”

“They’re not,” you shot back, fighting the smirk threatening to break through. “But tonight I’m making an exception.”

Ronin hummed, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he gave you that grin again—sharp, teasing, always bordering on something you couldn’t quite name. “Y’know, you’d make a good audience for my streams, darlin’,” he said offhandedly, though there was a hint of something heavier beneath the surface. “Too bad you’re such a softie. You wouldn’t last a minute.”

You stiffened. For a split second, your heart skipped a beat before you forced yourself to laugh it off. “As if. I could handle your ‘gorefest’ just fine. It’s you who doesn’t know me, Mr. Crowbar.”

“Oh?” His voice dipped lower, amusement dancing in his tone. “Is that a challenge?”

“Take it however you want,” you shot back, biting back your grin.

Ronin watched you carefully for a beat longer before he leaned closer to the camera, his tone soft but dripping with meaning. “Careful, sweetheart. You might surprise yourself. You never know how much you like the darkness… ’til you’re drowning in it.”

You met his gaze through the screen, your pulse racing in your ears. Neither of you said a word for a moment, the silence between you charged and unrelenting.

You broke it with a casual, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Devil.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and dangerous all at once. “Always playin’ hard to get. One day, darlin’, you’ll admit you’re just as curious as me.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his words sent a thrill through you. “Keep dreaming, Ronin.”

The call moved on and others rejoined the conversation, you couldn’t shake that lingering feeling—the way Ronin’s words sat heavy in your chest. You didn’t know why tonight felt different, why his details about his kill caught your attention more than usual.

And you definitely didn’t want to think about the unsettling idea swirling in the back of your mind—that maybe he was someone else entirely. Someone whose streams you knew far too well.

But that couldn’t be, right?

Ronin’s voice crackled through the call, that usual teasing tone dripping with curiosity. “Darlin’, you look like you’ve been through hell—what’s with the eyebags? You chasing ghosts or something?”

You groaned, letting your cheek rest against your palm as you lazily stared at the video feed. His smirk was too smug, as always, like he’d already won some game you weren’t playing yet. “It’s research. Even if I became a writer because of you, I’m still a reporter at heart.”

His brow quirked at the mention. “Research? What poor bastard you chasin’ now?”

You adjusted your position, letting out a slow breath. “Shithead of the year, honestly. A hacker who made millions off stolen data, killed a dozen people—including his own wife—and stole drugs. The worst part? He abused her into silence for years, and when she finally came forward, he killed her, too.” Your tone sharpened with disgust, almost venomous. *“He’s scum. The kind of filth that makes even *you* look almost… disgusting.”*

Ronin’s expression shifted at that. His smirk twitched, just slightly. “Almost disgusting, huh? Can’t tell if I should be offended or flattered.”

Your lips curled into a thin smile. “Does this guy make you angry or somethin’, Ronin?”

For a beat, he was silent, his eyes narrowing. Then, he gave a small nod, his fingers drumming against the desk he sat at. “Y’know what? Yeah. I’d say he does. Kinda wish…” His voice trailed off, almost testing the waters before continuing. “Kinda wish someone like Pathegon would grab him first.”

Your heart froze, all the blood in your veins rushing to your face. It felt like you’d been dunked into ice water. Pathegon. That was your red room stream name. No one else should’ve known. Your voice barely left your throat, a fragile whisper. “…How do you know that name?”

Ronin blinked at you, tilting his head with that same casual grin, as if nothing about this situation was remotely shocking. “Huh? Oh—nah, nah. I didn’t mean you, I meant this streamer. Gorey as hell, almost like a twisted love letter to the worst kinds of scum: abusers, killers, lowlifes—name it. Pathegon’s… good. Real good.”

Your body went stiff. You stared at him, pale as a ghost. He kept talking, too nonchalantly for your comfort, but his words were like a blade sinking deeper and deeper.

He's Goreboy69?!

You could barely hold your composure. Ronin laughed then, sharp and loud, like this whole thing was the most fun he’d had in years.

“Wait—no—hold on.” You stammered, pulling yourself together. “Was it you who gave the police intel on that guy? On… him?”

He grinned wider, teeth flashing in the dim light of his camera feed. “Bingo.” He leaned in, voice lowering into something sickly sweet. *“What can I say? I play both sides. Can’t leave *all* the fun for the cops. Someone’s gotta keep the game interesting.”*

You stared at him, stunned, before the anger boiling inside you started to twist into something darker. Something… dangerous. Your fingers curled tightly around your mouse as your lips parted, words spilling out before you could stop yourself. “I wish I could kill him myself.”

The room fell silent. For once, even Ronin seemed taken aback. His eyes flicked over you through the screen, studying every inch of your expression, as if trying to see if you really meant it.

“…Well, well.” His voice dropped to a low murmur, almost like he was savoring the moment. “Now, that’s somethin’ I wasn’t expectin’. You’d make a real good serial killer, y’know that?”

Your face burned. “No, I wouldn’t!”

But Ronin didn’t stop there. His smirk deepened, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he watched you with a strange gleam in his eyes. “Nah, nah. Don’t sell yourself short, darlin’. Picture it: that piece of shit tied up, bloody and broken, beggin’ for a mercy he doesn’t deserve. You’d look real pretty standin’ over him, crowbar in hand, paintin’ the walls red…”

You gawked at him, your mind spinning. “Ronin!”

He laughed—deep, low, and unrestrained. He looked almost giddy, a blush faintly dusting his cheeks as he leaned closer to the camera. “What? Can’t blame a guy for admirin’ talent when he sees it. You’re finally speakin’ my language, sweetheart. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

You threw your head back, groaning, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded at his words, or the way his eyes lingered on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world. He was still grinning when you looked back, that dangerous, teasing edge in his voice.

“Careful, darlin’. Keep talkin’ like that, and I might fall even harder for ya.”

You glanced at the clock on your monitor, eyes widening in panic. “Shit! Ronin, it’s almost 9 PM!”

Ronin tilted his head, visibly unfazed. “And? Time’s a social construct, darlin’. You goin’ somewhere?”

“You’re literally gonna show our stream to the whole server. I need to get ready.”

He pouted, slouching in his chair dramatically. “Tch. You’re ditchin’ me? You could stay a little longer. You always bolt the second I’m startin’ to have fun.”

You sighed, trying not to let your voice waver. “I can’t stay. I… have a show.”

Ronin’s brow quirked suspiciously. “A show? You didn’t mention that before.”

You glanced away, fiddling with the edge of your desk. “I just need to sleep, Ronin. That’s all.”

He didn’t argue further, though his exaggerated sigh was loud enough to be heard. “Fine, fine.” He leaned closer to the camera, sticking out his tongue as he smirked—a glint of silver shining off the piercing he had there. “I’ll be nice just this once. Go get your beauty sleep, angel. You’re already lookin’ kinda rough.”

You scoffed but couldn’t help a faint smile.

Before you could hit the end call button, his voice cut through softly. “Hey—before you go.”

You froze mid-motion, glancing back at his face. His tone wasn’t teasing anymore; it was quieter, almost… earnest. “How’s the relationship?”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “…Relationship? I’m fine with everyone, I guess.”

Ronin rolled his eyes, leaning forward until the glow of his screen cast sharp shadows across his features. “Not what I meant. I’m talkin’ ‘bout you n’ me.”

The words landed like a punch to the chest, leaving you momentarily breathless. You stared at him, unsure how to respond at first, before a small, stunned smile tugged at your lips.

“…Happy,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “All my life, I never thought I’d… date someone like you. A serial killer.” Your throat tightened as the words escaped you. “But I do care about you, Ronin. I really do.”

Ronin didn’t say anything. He just watched you, the usual cocky demeanor softening around the edges.

Your hand trembled as you held it out toward the screen, palm open as if reaching for him, for something intangible. Tears threatened to well up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “You’re my dream come true, you know that? My wish fulfilled.” Your voice cracked faintly. “I just… hope we can be like Vince and Ai one day, even if we can’t ever get married because of… everything. Because of your past, your trauma, your beliefs. That doesn’t matter to me. I’m just happy I’ve got someone who respects me, even if you play with me sometimes.”

Ronin’s face softened, his cocky grin finally faltering as his gaze locked on yours.

You swallowed, gathering the last of your resolve before whispering, “I love you, Ronin Beaufort.” Your hand stayed raised, trembling slightly, before you quickly ended the call without giving him a chance to respond.

The screen blinked black. Silence swallowed the room, save for the sound of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

—

Meanwhile, Ronin sat there, unmoving, his hand still resting on the mouse as the call screen went dark. His face was frozen in a stunned expression, his mouth slightly ajar as if you’d knocked the wind out of him.

The faint blush on his cheeks deepened as your words replayed in his mind over and over again. “I love you, Ronin Beaufort.”

“…The hell was that?” he muttered under his breath, fingers tapping nervously against the edge of his desk. A crooked grin ghosted across his lips, but it couldn’t hide the flush creeping up to his ears.

Ronin stared at the dark screen, completely still for a moment… and then he burst into a grin—one so wide it nearly split his face. His hand shot up, running through his shaggy hair as he leaned back in his chair, teeth flashing through the growing smile.

“Shit.” He let out a breathless laugh, a giddy, uncontrollable noise that echoed in the quiet room. His shoulders shook as he covered his mouth with his hand, trying (and failing) to smother the wild grin that refused to leave.

“They said they love me…” He muttered it like it was the most unbelievable thing in the world, like he needed to say it out loud just to confirm it had really happened. A giddy warmth spread through his chest, an unfamiliar and exhilarating feeling that left him downright giddy.

He couldn’t stop smiling. His cheeks hurt, but he didn’t care. His hand slammed down on the desk as another breathless laugh escaped him. “They actually said they love me. God—what the hell?”

Ronin tilted his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling, face still flushed as pink as his tongue piercing. “They’re so damn cute.” His voice dropped into a low mumble, but the fondness lacing his words was impossible to ignore. “Holdin’ out their hand like that, all teary-eyed. Gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack one day.”

His grin only grew as he replayed the moment in his head—you reaching for him, whispering “I love you, Ronin Beaufort.”

“Goddamn, they’re insane,” he muttered to himself, though his voice was dripping with affection. “Insane for lovin’ someone like me…” He paused, his grin softening just slightly as he added, “…but I guess I’m insane for lovin’ them back.”

His eyes flickered to the corner of his monitor, where your last message still lingered. He dragged his fingers through his hair again, his smirk returning but more dangerous this time—like he was plotting something.

“I’m gonna wreck ‘em, one day.” He snickered under his breath, a dangerous gleam in his eye. “They don’t even know what they’re doin’ to me…”

And still, he couldn’t stop smiling. Like crazy. Like he’d just been given a secret that no one else could understand.

“I love you, Ronin Beaufort…”

Those words echoed in his head like a melody on repeat, and for the first time in a long, long while, he actually believed it.

#ronin beaufort #killer chat #killer chat x reader #ronin x reader #killer chat ronin x reader #ronin beaufort x reader #killer chat ronin #ronin killer chat #kc x reader #kc #killer chat vn #killerchat #gender neutral reader #ronin x you

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batshikns · 1 month ago

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RAHHHHHHHHHHH.

#guys. gIs.#what if. i made ocs. for every main killer chat route.#i first give you Rem. the Ronin route guy <<<<333334 #total loser but smart at what he does.#think of him like a possum.#(rem is short for remora. yk the fish that likes to eat parasites and guck off of sharks?#i may explain my reasoning for naming all my mc ocs after remoras in a different post... anD ITS NOOOT #JUST BECAUSE I LIKE SHARKS. OKAY. AND THAT I ASSAIGNED EVERY KC! CHARACTER A SHARK.#it may be. a reason. but noooot hust because i swear 😣😣😣)#killer chat!#killer chat #ronin killer chat #ronin beaufort #angel killer chat #v killer chat #misaki killer chat #mc oc #oc #idk if i should tag this as oc x canon 😭#ig it is??#oc x canon #just in case 🫡#my art #next up: draw luca and feli cause me and my boyfriend need more than just their icons to match pfps with 😭😭

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f0ur-zombyz · 2 months ago

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꙰ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭'𝘴 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 (Ronin 'Good' End Oneshot)

You did what had to be done, didn't you? *+:｡.｡　☆　｡.｡:+**+:｡.｡　☆　｡.｡:+**+:｡.｡　☆　｡.｡:+*

Ronin made me do it.

It was such an easy escape. Ronin made me do it. It wasn’t a lie, was it? In the moment, you could feel transparent hands guide yours to Ronin’s. The hands helped yours grip around the knife. Phantom whispers danced in your head, pushing you forward.

‘Stab me, darling. It would be so easy, so quick. It’s not like I’m the Devil, after all.’

Your hands trembled as you responded to the hell-bent Angel.

Ronin made me do it.

The Butcher smiled at you through crazed laughs when you had fallen for his spell. Your first kiss as lovers was poison. It tasted of metal, love, death and decay. When you love the rot, it eventually infects you.

‘Consider this a courtesy. I’m going to kill you.’

The harsh pink text floated in your vision as your thoughts drifted. She was going to kill you, sending you to join the rot. The distinct pop of white pulled you back to your screen. An exclamation point next to a name that could not be active; goreboy, the recently deceased. Your hands shook as you scrolled through the messages. The decay started to root as you conversed with the remnant left behind. A remnant left to torment you after you had fallen for the rot‘s allure.

You are predictable, after all.

As hours floated out of your mind, the thoughts of Ronin didn’t. The pressure of hands would be felt on your shoulders, the whispering voice of teasing comfort flowing into your mind. You played along perfectly, Darling. He had said it himself to you and Angel. You were to be his ‘Make-A-Murderer’. His work of art, his muse. He had given you everything you ever wanted and he would be getting his reward. With everything given, something must be taken.

Ronin gave you his time, his attention. He gave you a muse, a perfect protagonist, a lover. Now it was his turn. He had been given his perfect little serial killer, a lover, and now he was going to claim what was left.

At least, that’s what the decay desired. In the corner of your eye, in the reflection of your mirrors, he was always there. Angel never came, and soon, you never left. Your single-home became the home of two; the decay and the rot. He was always with you cooing from the dark corners of your mind; watching and whispering from the shadows. Your bed became your safe space, curling into a safe cocoon. He wouldn’t bother you here in the warmth of safety.

Unfortunately, no fortress lasts forever. Eventually, small cracks form that can be exploited. His false weight on the bed shifted the cocoon, destroying the safety. His hands crept up to your face, bringing your attention to the apparition in your bed.

I gave you everything you could ever want. Now, we can have that forever. Aren’t you happy, Darling?

Ronin leaned forward, cold lips placing themselves against your own. The final kiss of a couple should be filled with sadness of departure and nostalgia. This wasn’t the end, it would be a new beginning. In this, the rot of the first kiss had strengthened. Venom and suffocating love consumed your senses. He hadn’t lied to you. You had gotten everything you wanted. Love, a great story, and now, you’d have a fantastical ending. However, there was one thing he had lied about.

He truly was,

The Devil.

~ a one shot by f0ur-zombyz

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serial-killers-hope · 2 months ago

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uhmm.. hmmmm uhhmm blinks blinks blinks..

(MORE TRANSMASC STUFF MORE MORE MUAHAHAHA MORE RONIN X TRANSMASC READER MUAHAHHAHAH MAKE IT SILLY MUAHEUQHEUWEB)

blinks blinks

All of you are hungry for this type of content… it’s honestly amusing. Either way, I’ll give it to you. Enjoy. ~ DP

Happy Evenings With The Devil.

Enjoy.

You Never Cease To Amaze.

Ronin kept his eyes on you as you paced the room. Your chest practically aching from two weeks ago. But at least it was better than it was when you got the surgery. But you had to admit, Ronin had been the best partner in this situation.

He had helped you inject your T, supported you during your dysphoria days, turning off the lights in the bathroom for you when he knew as well. It was nice for a change how sweet he was being and how supportive he was this entire time. Even when you came out, all he did was laugh and say how silly it was for you to keep this from HIM out of all people. It was hilarious now that you thought of it…

Suddenly, you were snapped out of your thoughts by his voice.

“Hey, lay down. Jesus, you’re going to get hurt that way.”

You look over at him, brows furrowed as you nodded and made your way to bed. Laying down on your back with a satisfied groan and a soft hum.

“Thanks… I was kind of-“

“Spacing out? No shit. C’mon, let’s get you ready.”

You smile as he helps you take off your loose fitting shirt, eyeing your bandages with a look that screamed care and worry. When he didn’t find anything wrong with the compression bandages ( ones that he had put on simply thirty minutes ago ), he only nodded and laid you back down fully.

Ronin raised your head with another pillow, his eyes narrowing to see your expression and hummed in satisfaction when he noticed you were already drifting off.

“Fuckin’ adorable…”

He slid your blanket to cover you up, gently placing a kiss against your forehead with a soft expression.

“I love you my darlin’.”

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toasted-strudel27 · 1 month ago

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This is an idea I got from someone on the roserot discord server and my first fanfic so sorry if it's bad 🥹 I'm just a lil silly guys 😋

Ronin x insecure gn!reader

Tags: Angst, degrading names, cursing, not any comfort I'm 99% sure

------------------------------------------------------------------

You were sitting alone in your room, curled up on your bed with your headphones/earbuds in. It was getting tiring, pretending to be what you are but aren't. You're a writer, not a killer, and yet here you were in a server full of them, playing a little acting game for the sake of a book. And he knew.

He damn well knew.

He invited you afterall, how could he not be aware?

But it was so fucking exhausting at this point, wasn't it? You knew who you were, you didn't know who you were, it was all a fucking crisis that you couldn't get a hold of. Who were you really? Were you even liked? Were they just pretending? What if it was just all an act, just like you?

Then your phone dinged, it was a message from Goreboy, Ronin, that damned killer you craved to validate you. He was the first interaction you had in the group after all, how could you not yearn for it?

Goreboy: still coming along I see?

Goreboy: it's Pathetic to see how you keep pushing on

Damn that hurt, didn't it? But he was right, it was pathetic wasn't it?

To keep pushing along despite how little progress, if any at all, was made.

You: What do you want, Ronin?

You: Is that all you ever do now, belittle and berate me like I'm nothing?

You: I get you might see little in me and I don't fit your desires for shit

You: But it still fucking hurts, you heartless jackass

You started at your phone, looking at the messages that you sent on pure autopilot.

You couldn't help it, could you?

Or perhaps you could've.

Could'a, would'a, should'a.

That's something he said once, wasn't it?

And yet, you can't get his goddamn name out of your head.

You can't get him out of your head, no matter how hard you wish for it.

Fuck.

The urge to give up is strong, you don't know who you are anymore. Did you ever really know, though? Did you ever have a proper identity to go by? It's hard to remember. It's all a blur.

Your phone chimes again, another response from Ronin.

You choose to ignore it, you can't take it anymore, you can't take his insults, his criticism, his revile words.

You were tired of him picking you apart like a toy to be destroyed.

Perhaps that's what you were, a toy. A puppet. A slave.

A canvas to be painted for every new painter who got a hold of you...

#ronin x reader #ronin x you #ronin beaufort #killer chat ronin #killer chat #killer chat x reader

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the-trueantichrist-666 · 2 months ago

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Ronin thing (NSFW [violent content, etc.])

i Wrote this short Piece on a discord Server while drunk and Bored. it's about ronin from Killer Chat. please enjoy. or dont.

its been months since what you thought was the end of it.. you met up with him and kiss him. He destroyed you. He rebuilt you. He made you in his image. In that moment he guides the blade as it slashes the carotid veins, you look in shock as the man gurgles and holds his hand to his throat trying in vein to stop the bleeding. He is scared. You know of him already. He was cruel, a bad person. You know he is a bad man. But guilt bubbles in you. You are scared, but Ronin pulls you away and takes over, this is your first time, he is proud. You did what he wanted, you killed for him. From there you do kill and kill. You think about contacting the police, of admitting it, but when you talk to Luca, to Felicitie, to Vance, to Angel, to the others, especially to Ronin.. you can't make yourself care. Were you always this? No, but this is you IN HIS IMAGE.

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #ronin beaufort #ronin x you #killer chat ronin x you #slop lmao

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merakiui · 2 years ago

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For the SK Azul perhaps you were a singer at his or his Mother's restaurant. He was pretty jealous of your voice and beauty. But you were so tender and attentive, so diferent of the other self-absorbed artists he grow used to interact with.

So he grows to believe you have a soft spot for him even when you behave the same with the other staff. Azul is so convinced he has been planning to confess you his feelings but then when he follows your voice outside he finds you in the embrace of your boyfriend, white wine bottle in hand as he congratulates you and you coo him back.

Azul is stunt and betrayed, his love quickly turns sour as the the taste of your name oh his tongue, now spit with a tune of pure hate.

Azul is mortified when he watches this sweet, happy scene play out in front of him. All this time he’s loved you from afar, admiring your soft nature and the kindness you reserved only for him (a delusion), and yet here you are with someone else. You’ve never looked at him in the same way he looks at you. You’ve never even considered a loving future with him. All of his dreams burn away at that moment, reduced to hateful piles of ash. Perhaps he should have expected you’d have a lover because of how perfect and beautiful you are, but it never occurred to him. He was far too enchanted with your voice to even think of anyone outside the two of you.

The world narrows down to a single point at that moment; sound muffles and his sight dims, colors blending and fading like splattered paints on canvas. He can’t panic right here. He has to stay level-headed. He needs to take a moment to calm down, step away from the situation, and consider it from a new perspective. He tastes ink in his mouth, bitter and foul, and his heart is thrumming with wild thrill. He has to relax.

And he does. He turns away from the scene, hurries back inside, and nearly throws himself into the bathroom in his haste to spit up thick globs of ink. His hands grip the countertop when he peers at himself in the mirror, wiping smeared ink from his lips with great disdain. Azul is furious and betrayed and saddened by this revelation. He feels as if he’s just lost the most important person in his world. How could you do this to him? How could you love another when he was here all this time?

Azul is not usually so immaturely rash, but his emotions are getting the best of him and he can't step back and calm down. Usually it was your voice that helped him retain focus, but now even that isn't a comfort. It just sounds like screeching static, no longer the smooth, caramelized cadence of a siren. And since you’re no longer so beautifully kind—since you’ve become so vile and wrong—he will take from you all that you hold dear in order to repair his shattered hearts.

He already knows your address, having been stalking you for so long, and it’s easy to get inside your home because he’s done it before. You’ll never see the face of your killer when he makes swift, precise work of you, but you hear him in your final moments, mumbling about how he wishes things could be different.

And then you wake up in your bed, snugly wrapped in the blankets, and your alarm is going off, shrill and annoying. When you peer at your phone, the date flashes back at you. It’s Friday; you have a shift at the restaurant. Somehow it feels a little strange to wake up from such a violent, visceral dream, where your throat had been slashed and a knife had been buried into your side during the struggle. You touch those exact places when you get up, staring at your reflection and finding nothing amiss. It’s weird. That dream felt so real...

But dreams are only dreams, and now that you’ve woken it can’t bother you.

You spend the entire day doing everything you had done in your dream. It’s as if you’re reliving the same day that happened in your dreams, talking to the same people, singing the same songs on the stage, smiling at the same patrons and staff. You can’t seem to shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right. This intense déjà vu lingers with you throughout the entire day and into the night. You meet with your boyfriend outside, who congratulates you for another successful evening, but you’re certain you’ve already heard his words before. It’s just like your dream.

You return home, but there’s someone waiting for you in the darkness. And just like in your dream, you’re caught by surprise. While trying to take the knife from your assailant after your throat has been so brutally sliced, it’s buried in your side so deeply that pulling it out would certainly speed up your death. You fade away in a spreading puddle of your blood, and the person who did this to you stands over you the entire time, watching your precious life ebb away as you drool and choke on thick globs of blood.

And then you wake up in your bed, snugly wrapped in the blankets, and your alarm is going off, shrill and annoying. When you peer at your phone, the date flashes back at you. It’s Friday; you have a shift at the restaurant. You sit up in bed in a cold, horrified sweat, grasping at your side and neck and expecting to feel fatal wounds. But nothing is there; you’re completely unharmed.

You get ready for the day, unable to shake the sense that you’ve already lived this moment. Acutely aware of everyone’s responses and reactions. Oddly certain that when you return home you’ll be killed.

But dreams are only dreams, and now that you’ve woken it can’t bother you. Right?

#twisted chit chat #serial killer azul #i think serial killer x time loop is such a fun concept #especially if you don't know who the serial killer is to begin with #so you have to find a way to avoid being killed while looking for your killer #and it could work well with azul #because he's very intelligent and with each time you fail and loop the more he learns your patterns :)#and no matter who you try to tell the truth to it won't matter when you're killed and you loop again #because no one will remember anything when you're back to the beginning

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2-dsimp · 10 months ago

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#mini cyoa #yandere jjk #yandere aot #dbd killer #demon slayer x reader #jjba x you #haikyuu #tokyo revengers #mha #bhna #genshin impact #2dsimp chat 💬#2dsimp poll

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elysiaheaven · 2 months ago

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KC band au where reader is someone they chose from an audition to be a drummer kek…

ANGEL-GOTHIC! KILLER CHAT X READER! BAND AU!

Band AU Character Introductions: Angelgothic

Ronin (Electric Guitarist, Main Member): he/him Now playing!-"Ghost Rule"

"Rolling Girl" Lost One’s Weeping" Unhappy Refrain" Tokyo Teddy Bear" "Blessing"

Ronin stands tall at 6'1" with a devil-may-care attitude that could rival any rock star stereotype. His plum-colored hair peeks out from beneath his worn black beanie, and he’s almost always clad in dark clothes that lean heavily into an alternative, punk-goth aesthetic. Tattoos peek out from the sleeves of his ripped shirts, telling stories no one dares ask about. Known for being post-ironic, Ronin oozes confidence and sarcasm, loving to toy with people’s expectations. He has an intimidating, haunting presence that lingers even after he leaves the room. Despite his rough exterior, there’s something enigmatic about him that keeps people guessing—and intrigued.

Specialty: Wicked guitar solos that leave the audience breathless. Personality Highlight: Snarky and complex, hides deeper traumas under layers of wit and punk. Fixing is different from healing!

Angel (Lead Singer): she/her Now playing! "World is Mine"

"Tell Your World" – "Melt" ."Miracle Paint" – Not Allowed" (ダメダメよ) "Starduster" World's End Dancehall

Angel is the heart and soul of the band, known for her magnetic stage presence and a voice that can switch from angelic to ferocious in seconds. She has blonde, hair and wears outfits that are a blend of edgy and ethereal, playing into her stage name. Her optimism and warmth make her the glue that keeps the band from falling apart during tough times. Offstage, she’s the type who remembers birthdays, brings snacks to practice, and makes sure everyone feels like part of the team. But she has her moments of introspection, shadows that creep into her usually sunny demeanor. Specialty: Bringing raw emotion to every performance. Personality Highlight: Sweet with a strong backbone; can stand up to anyone when it matters. Misaki (Bass Guitarist): she/they! Now playing! Electric Angel

"Remote Control" "Ageage Again" "Nijigen Dream Fever" "Romeo and Cinderella" "Teo" by Omoi

Misaki is chaos personified, with short, choppy hair carrying an aura of wild energy. They’re nonbinary and switch between fashion styles effortlessly, sometimes punk, sometimes glam. Misaki has a sharp grin and a knack for stirring the pot, whether it’s with mischievous pranks or daring antics on stage. They keep practice sessions lively and are always the first to suggest taking a break for spontaneous dance-offs. However, behind their playful exterior is someone who fiercely protects those they care about. Specialty: Killer bass riffs that pulse with infectious energy. Personality Highlight: Jokester with an unyielding loyalty; wild but deeply caring. V (Pianist): he/him

Now playing!-"The Disappearance of Hatsune Miku

"The Thought to Relinquish" "Judgement of Corruption" by KEMU VOXX

"Senbonzakura" "Dark Woods Circus" "Two-Faced Lovers" "Kagerou Days"

V is the brooding genius of the group, with a cold exterior that hides a mind working a thousand miles an hour. Tall, with dark, neatly kept hair and sharp eyes, he exudes an air of mystery and meticulousness. He dresses in clean-cut, dark clothing, looking more like a classical pianist than a heavy metal musician—an image he subverts with hauntingly powerful keyboard solos. V is quiet and doesn’t give away much, choosing his words carefully and never indulging in small talk. His rivalry with Ronin is palpable, fueled by differing philosophies and a history they never talk about. Specialty: Complex and dramatic piano accompaniments that give the band a unique edge. Personality Highlight: Stoic and highly intelligent; has a deep, hidden care for his bandmates.

Other characters!

Vince (Manager): Vince is the brains behind the operation, a sharp-eyed man with a penchant for sharp suits. He’s dedicated, resourceful, and knows the industry inside out. Vince has a strong bond with the band, even though he often has to play the role of the exasperated parent. He believes in Angelgothic’s potential and pushes them hard to reach it, but he’s also the first one to show up with support when things go south. Specialty: Business acumen, organizing tours, and keeping the band in line. Personality Highlight: Strict but supportive; a true believer in the band’s potential. Ai Hua (Boss’s Wife & Band Caretaker): Ai Hua is a warm, motherly figure who makes sure the band is well-fed and looked after. Though she isn’t officially part of the crew, she’s a comforting presence at gigs and practices. With a love for music herself, she enjoys watching Angelgothic’s growth and often gives them pep talks before big performances. Specialty: Bringing stability and emotional support. Personality Highlight: Kind, nurturing, but with a hidden fire when it comes to defending those she cares about.

PLAYLIST! FOR THEM! "Magnet" (with Luka Megurine) "From Y to Y" "Cantarella" Luca and Feli Just fans and "friends" Luca x Feli now playing!

"Wave" by Lily "Sayonara Memories" by Supercell (feat. Hatsune Miku) "Blue Star" by Hatsune Miku "World is Mine" (Soft Version) "Meteor" by Hatsune Miku Main lover!-you! (Y/N) (Drummer): (Y/N) embodies resilience with a rebellious streak, decked out in an emo style that reflects the turmoil and drive inside them. They grew up under strict, judgmental eyes, enduring the suffocating expectations of a religious upbringing that clashed with their true self. Every beat they strike is a declaration of independence and defiance, heavy with the promise to prove themselves and silence those who doubted them. When they auditioned, (Y/N) brought an energy that shook the room and a confidence that masked their jagged edges. Specialty: Thunderous drumming that adds explosive energy to the band’s sound. Personality Highlight: Charismatic with hidden depths; driven by passion and a need to belong.

Now playing!?

"ODDS&ENDS"

"1/6 -out of the gravity-"

Ura-omote Lovers"

PoPiPo"

"Love is War"

This is part 1! Let me know if i should continue this!

You stood outside the worn-down building, heart pounding in your chest like a drum, a mixture of excitement and anxiety bubbling within you. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for. After countless auditions, you’d finally made it here to audition for a band, and not just any band, but one called Angelgothic. The name alone sent shivers down your spine, resonating with your desires for rebellion and expression.

You’ve always wanted to be part of a band. Ever since you were a kid, the beats and riffs of heavy metal resonated with you, making you feel alive in a world that felt hell-bent on crushing your spirit. Your parents, however, saw it as nothing but a phase—something associated with rebellion, with styles they deemed inappropriate and sinful. It didn’t matter to them that music was your refuge, your sanctuary. It was just another thing to add to their list of disappointments.

Growing up in a strict household, your parents had never understood your love for heavy metal, the powerful beats and raw lyrics that spoke to your soul. You’d spent your teenage years confined within the walls of a Christian school, where the teachers preached about righteousness while you sat in the back, doodling skulls and flowers in your notebook, dreaming of a life drenched in black leather and screaming guitars. They didn’t just push you away from music; they tried to erase who you were, constantly reminding you that your style was unacceptable, that your dreams were foolish. They wanted you to be perfect, but perfect wasn’t a cage, it was a prison, and you’d had enough.

Ever since you were a kid, your heart beat to the rhythm of heavy metal, drowning out the judgmental whispers of your parents and the cruel laughter of your peers. They never understood your passion for the dark and gritty side of life; to them, it was just a phase. But you were determined to break free from the shackles of their expectations. You wanted to prove them wrong.

Every night, you’d sneak into your room, blasting the music that made your soul sing—the harsh chords and thunderous drums calling to you. You longed to be part of a band, to unleash your frustrations on the drum kit, to feel the vibrations of the music pulsate through your veins. But life was shit. Your parents had made it clear: heavy metal was a sin. So you kept your dreams hidden, nurturing them in the shadows.

You had auditioned for countless bands, hoping to find a place to belong, only to be turned away time and time again. But then came the fateful day you heard about Angelgothic—a new band formed by talented individuals who had faced their own struggles. You felt a spark of hope ignite in your chest. This could be your chance.

You walked through the doors of the rehearsal space, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. You were about to meet the people you would be sharing the stage with, and while the fear of rejection crept in, the thrill of potential success pushed it aside. You had to prove to your parents that you could make it, that you were more than just a disappointment.

What you saw left you breathless.

There he was—Ronin. He was mesmerizing, his hands moving fluidly over the strings of his electric guitar, a devilish grin plastered on his face. The music he played was intoxicating, a dark melody that resonated with the chaos you felt inside. His hair fell just above his eyes, a wild plum color that contrasted against the stark black of his clothing. Everything about him screamed rebellion and artistry, and you found yourself completely captivated.

When you entered the room, you were hit by the sound of electric guitars screaming with energy. The sight of the band was overwhelming. Ronin, the electric guitarist, was in the middle of a solo, hair falling over his face as he played with an intensity that made your heart race. There was something devilish about the way he moved, a magnetism that drew you in. He was the embodiment of everything you adored about the heavy metal scene. You felt your cheeks heat as you watched him, feeling as if you had fallen in love at first sight.

Misaki, the bass guitarist, was energetically keeping up with the rhythm, her fiery spirit contagious. V, the pianist, added a layer of complexity to the sound, his fingers dancing over the keys like a master magician. And Angel, the singer, poured her heart into every note, her voice echoing through the room with a passion that sent shivers down your spine.

You watched in awe as the band played, feeling a connection to the music that coursed through your veins. It was raw, it was powerful, and it was everything you had ever wanted. You felt a sense of hope blossom within you—maybe this was your chance, your opportunity to finally become part of something great.

But then, reality struck. You remembered the trepidation that followed you everywhere. Your parents’ disapproving faces flashed in your mind, the words of your teachers ringing in your ears. “You’re wasting your time. You’ll never make it.” Doubt crept in, threatening to suffocate the excitement bubbling within you.

You took a moment to catch your breath, soaking in the atmosphere. V, the pianist, was in the corner, his fingers dancing across the keys, lost in his own world. He seemed cold and distant, the kind of person who might look right through you if you dared to make eye contact. Misaki was chaotic, dancing around the room with a laugh that was infectious, as if she were filled with pure energy. And then there was Angel, the singer—her voice cut through the air, sweet and powerful, a combination that felt like a promise of what was to come.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and you felt like a deer caught in headlights. Ronin turned slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours, piercing through the haze of uncertainty. The room went quiet, the air thick with tension as everyone’s gaze shifted to you.

Now, Ronin noticed you. His eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against his guitar, looking you up and down. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A little lost lamb wandering into the devil’s den?”

You felt your stomach twist with a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. He was teasing, and there was something about that glimmer in his eyes that both frightened and excited you. It was a challenge, and you weren’t about to back down. “Just here to audition,” you said, trying to sound confident despite the fluttering in your chest.

“Is that so?” He crossed his arms, a playful grin spreading across his face. “You think you can keep up with us? We’re not just any band; we’re Angelgothic. We bring chaos, darling.”

“Please, Ronin, be nice,” Angel interjected, her voice soothing like a gentle breeze. “You know we need a drummer, and if they made it this far, they must have some talent. What's your name?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m Y/N,” you managed, feeling a bit out of place but excited nonetheless.

“Awesome! We’re about to take a break. Why don’t you grab a seat?” she suggested, motioning to an empty chair nearby. You nodded and settled in, your heart racing as you tried to absorb everything happening around you.

The band took a break, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Ronin. He caught your eye and flashed you a smile that made your heart race. Your stomach flipped, and you could feel a warmth spreading across your cheeks. Was it possible you had fallen for him just like that? You couldn’t help but admire how he seemed so comfortable in his skin, exuding a confidence you wished you had.

“What brings you here, Y/N?” Angel asked, her voice sweet and melodic

You couldn’t help but admire how Angel balanced the chaotic energy in the room with her sweet nature. She exuded warmth, making you feel more welcome. But Ronin wasn’t done with his game. He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing, “You do look a little… emo for our style. What’s your story, huh?”

You felt your heart race at his words. Here was this handsome devil of a guitarist, flirting and taunting you all at once. “Just someone who got tired of being told I couldn’t be myself,” you said, trying to inject some attitude into your response. “I want to be in a band and prove everyone wrong.”

Ronin’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Rebel against the system, huh? I can respect that. But can you really handle being in a band with a bunch of misfits like us?”

Misfits. That was the perfect description. You had always felt like an outsider, the black sheep of your family, especially after years spent in religious schools that drilled the idea of conformity into your head. The trauma of being told you were wrong for wanting to express yourself in any way lingered like a dark cloud overhead. But here, surrounded by these musicians, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe you could carve out a place for yourself after all.

“I’ve handled worse,” you replied, smirking back at him. “Besides, if I wanted to play it safe, I wouldn’t be here.”

Misaki burst into laughter, and V, still focused on his piano, rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “Spunky, I like that, Vince is back, Let's see how you do!"

Um! What! Oh shit! This is it! Breathe y/n! Breathe!

The rehearsal came to an end, the energy in the room was electric. Ronin had been relentless with his teasing, as usual, throwing playful jabs at you and challenging your confidence. You could tell he wanted to push your buttons, testing how far he could go before you snapped back at him. But there was something about it that felt… invigorating.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, drummer,” Ronin said, leaning against his guitar with an amused smirk. “I hope you’re not just here to play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ because I might have to kick you out of the band myself.” His tone was teasing, and you rolled your eyes, a small smile creeping onto your lips.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you,” you shot back, your ego rising as you felt a surge of determination. This was your chance to show them what you could really do, to prove that you belonged here among the chaos of Angelgothic.

Angel, with her ever-supportive nature, jumped in to defend you. “Come on, Ronin, give them a break! We all know they’ve got talent.” She shot him a look, her hands on her hips as if to say, “Don’t mess with my new friend.”

Ronin feigned innocence, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, Saint Maria, I’ll be nice. For now.” The rest of the band chuckled, and the atmosphere lightened as everyone settled down to watch you.

“Alright, (Y/N), we want to hear what you’ve got!” Misaki exclaimed, bouncing on her heels with excitement. Her chaotic energy was contagious, and you felt your heart race with anticipation.

“Yeah, show us what you can do!” V added, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Though his tone was cool, you could sense the underlying interest in his words. It was a rare moment of encouragement from the usually aloof pianist.

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained on you. You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you embraced it. You took a deep breath, letting the rhythm of your heart guide you. This was what you had always wanted—a chance to prove yourself.

“Alright, Ronin,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me.” You picked up your drumsticks and took your position behind the kit, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Better not play something lame like ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep,’” Ronin quipped, his voice dripping with mockery.

With a smirk, you launched into a rhythm, the sticks flying through the air as you brought the drums to life. You started off slow, teasing the beat, but then you cranked up the energy, drumming like you were channeling every ounce of passion that had been pent up inside you.

The sound echoed around the room, and soon Ronin couldn’t help but join in, his guitar weaving seamlessly into the rhythm you created. His playful demeanor faded as he focused on the music, the atmosphere shifting from playful banter to serious collaboration. You could see the spark in his eyes as he began to lose himself in the moment, the two of you creating something electric together.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” he shouted, a grin breaking across his face. The way you drummed made his laughter fill the air, invigorating the energy in the room. You poured everything into the performance, the adrenaline surging through your veins as you locked into the groove with Ronin.

Misaki bounced along with the beat, she joined in on her bass guitar, matching your intensity with her chaotic style. “YES! SLAY!” she cheered, the excitement radiating from her. You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, feeling like a part of something bigger than yourself.

V picked up the piano keys next, adding a melodic layer that wrapped around the rhythm like a warm embrace. His cold exterior melted away as the music filled the space, and you could tell he was enjoying this as much as the rest of you. The synergy between the four of you was palpable, and it felt like you were creating magic in that moment.

When you finally ended the song, a triumphant crescendo of sound echoing in the rehearsal space, the room erupted in applause. Misaki dashed over, wrapping her arms around you in an enthusiastic hug. “You’re so good!” she exclaimed, squeezing you tightly, her chaotic energy wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Thanks, Misaki!” you laughed, feeling elated by the praise.

V, maintaining his cool demeanor, nodded slightly. “You did well,” he said, his voice steady. It was as close to a compliment as you would likely ever get from him, and it made your heart swell with pride.

“Still not that great, but you’ll survive,” Ronin teased, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. You shot him a mock glare, your competitive spirit flaring up. You wanted to kick his nose, honestly.

“Shut up, Ronin,” you said, a smile creeping onto your lips despite your irritation.

Angel laughed softly, shaking her head. “If you keep this up, we might just have to keep you around,” she said, her tone light but her eyes serious.

The band exchanged glances, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Did they really want you to stay? You couldn’t help but feel a swell of hope, a flicker of possibility igniting in your chest.

Vince, the band’s manager, watched the scene unfold with a thoughtful expression. He exchanged glances with Ai Hua, who stood nearby with a supportive smile. After a moment of consideration, he approached you, extending his hand for a shake. “I think we’ve found our new drummer,” he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Welcome to Angelgothic!”

You couldn’t believe it. Your heart soared as you accepted his handshake, feeling like you had finally found your place. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!” you shouted, your excitement bubbling over.

“Yasss!” Misaki cheered, jumping up and down. “We’re going to be the best band ever!”

Ronin pretended to roll his eyes but couldn’t hide the smirk on his face. “Just remember, I’ll always be watching you, (Y/N). Don’t think you can slack off just because you’re part of the band now.”

The laughter in the rehearsal space began to fade, Ronin crossed his arms, leaning back against his guitar with that ever-present smirk still plastered across his face. “You think you’re just going to waltz in here and take my spot without a fight? I’m gonna give you a hard time, (Y/N).” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it that made you gulp involuntarily.

But you weren’t going to let him see any fear. You straightened your posture, plastering on your best “womanizer” face, filled with bravado. “Okay, bring it on! Just remember, if you keep messing with me, does that mean you’re a little obsessed?” You winked, reveling in the challenge you had thrown his way.

The room fell silent for a split second, all eyes shifting to Ronin, who seemed unfazed by your cheeky comeback. He just leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Obsessed? Please, I’m just trying to keep you on your toes. Wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable.” His smirk deepened, and you could see the playful fire in his gaze, but the tension in the room crackled with something deeper.

Nudging Misaki with your elbow, you added, “NGL, you remind me of that guy from Heathers, JD. You’ve got that whole ‘dark and brooding’ vibe down pat. How do you feel about it?”

At the mention of the character, Ronin’s expression shifted, a dark look crossing his features that sent a chill down your spine. It was a split second, but you caught it—a glimpse of something more intense behind his playful facade. Angel must have sensed it too because she immediately pulled you aside, her voice low and conspiratorial.

“Oh, you just did emotional damage to him,” she whispered, barely containing her giggles. “He’s definitely gonna hold that against you.” You wanted to glance back at Ronin, curious about his reaction, but Angel shook her head vigorously, a teasing grin on her face.

“Nope! Keep looking forward! Trust me, it’s better that way!” she said, leading you away as Misaki snorted in laughter, clearly enjoying the whole scene. You couldn’t help but smile at the chaos surrounding you.

“Come on, I’ll show you around the studio!” Angel continued, her excitement infectious as she dragged you further into the space. As she pointed out different areas—the sound booth, the lounge where the band often hung out, and the practice rooms—you felt your nervousness begin to melt away.

You walked through the studio, Angel, always the enthusiastic one, decided it was time for proper introductions. She spun around to face you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Alright, it’s time for everyone to introduce themselves properly! I mean, you’re going to be part of our little chaotic family now, after all!”

Ronin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smirk as he observed. “Sure, but don’t be surprised if I don’t like you after this,” he quipped, the playful edge still evident in his tone. You rolled your eyes at his antics but couldn’t suppress a smile; it was all part of the game with him, and you were more than willing to play along.

“Okay, I’ll start!” Angel beamed, clearly thrilled to take the lead. “I’m Angel, the voice of this band. I’m basically the sunshine in this chaotic mess, and I can’t wait to work with you!” She was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to Ronin's cold front.

“V here,” the pianist said next, his tone cool and detached. “I’m the one who adds depth to our sound, or so they say. Nice to meet you.” He didn’t seem particularly invested, but his presence carried a quiet intensity that intrigued you.

“Yup, and I’m Misaki!” she chirped, bouncing on her feet. “I’m the chaos factor and the bass guitarist! If you ever need a partner in crime or someone to annoy Ronin with, I’m your lover!” She winked at you, her energy infectious.

Finally, it was your turn. You took a deep breath, channeling your inner Britney Spears, ready to be bold and sassy. “I’m (Y/N), the new drummer in this delightful chaos. I’m here to prove to my parents that I’m more than just a rebellious phase,” you said, matching Angel’s enthusiasm but adding a cheeky wink of your own. “And for good luck, I think we need to introduce ourselves again!”

The room fell silent for a moment, then erupted into laughter. Ronin, arms still crossed, rolled his eyes. “Oh great, just what we need—more introductions. Can’t wait to hear your sob story again, (Y/N).” He was being insufferable, but you loved it.

“Hey, if you don’t like it, you can just leave,” you shot back, the confidence surging through you. “Besides, I’d love to hear everyone’s sob stories. It’s like a twisted group therapy session!”

Misaki clapped her hands in delight. “Yes! I love this idea! Ronin, you first!”

“Absolutely not. I’d rather you all didn’t hear my tragic backstory,” he retorted, his tone sarcastic but the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. You could see that even beneath his facade, he was intrigued by your spirit.

“C’mon, Ronin! It’ll be fun!” Angel chimed in, clearly not ready to let him off the hook. “And it’s only fair since we’re all sharing!”

With the pressure on, Ronin sighed dramatically, finally giving in. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m a dark, brooding enigma that doesn’t need pity or sympathy, especially from someone like you, (Y/N).”

“Oh please, if you were a real enigma, you wouldn’t be making such a big deal about it,” you teased, your voice laced with playful sarcasm. “But go ahead, I’m all ears.”

Ronin opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly trying to find the right words. “Let’s just say I’m a misunderstood genius with a tragic past,” he finally said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Boring!” Misaki shouted, her laughter ringing through the room. “Angel, you go next!”

The introductions continued, the camaraderie grew. You felt a warmth spreading through you—a sense of belonging that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Each person shared their quirks and stories, and even if Ronin continued to act like a jerk, you could tell he was intrigued by you.

The laughter and chatter subsided, Angel’s bright voice rang out again. “Alright, since you’re our new drummer, we think it’s only fair that you choose someone to look after you! It’s a big responsibility being in this band, and we want to make sure you’re taken care of!”

Everyone turned to face you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and expectation. The weight of their gazes made your heart race, but you couldn’t help but feel a thrill at being the center of attention. You bit your lip, weighing your options carefully.

“Who’s it gonna be, (Y/N)? You have to pick someone!” Misaki exclaimed, practically bouncing on her feet. “Choose wisely; you might get stuck with someone really weird!” She flashed a cheeky grin at Ronin, who rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Great, just what I need—a babysitter,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You glanced at each of them, your mind racing with possibilities.

V stood off to the side, arms crossed, his expression cold yet contemplative. Despite his detached demeanor, you sensed an undercurrent of interest in his eyes. “I may not be the warmest person, but I’ll keep an eye on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Just don’t expect me to hold your hand.” There was a strange comfort in his straightforwardness, and you could tell he meant what he said, even if he had a unique way of showing it.

Then there was Angel, radiant and sweet as ever, her smile infectious. “Oh, I would love to look after you!” she gushed, stepping closer. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need, and I’ll be here to cheer you on! Plus, we can totally have girl talk whenever you want!” The warmth in her voice made you feel safe, and the thought of having her as a supporter was undeniably tempting.

Misaki leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “C’mon, you know you want me to be your guardian! I’ll make sure you have a blast, and I won’t let anyone mess with you! Plus, I have snacks!” She flashed a playful wink, making it hard to resist her chaotic charm. The thought of Misaki by your side filled you with excitement—she’d definitely keep things interesting.

Finally, there was Ronin. He watched you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, his expression a mix of amusement and something darker. “You know I’d make the best choice. I’d keep you on your toes, and you’d never get bored,” he teased, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Besides, who else would challenge you the way I do?” There was an undeniable allure in his confidence, even if he did come off as a bit of a jerk.

The room was silent as everyone awaited your decision. You took a deep breath, glancing from one person to the next, each offering their own unique promise of companionship and support.

After a moment of deliberation, you felt your heart race as you finally spoke up, ready to make your choice. “Alright, I’ve made my decision!”

If you choose V: “I think I’ll go with V. I could use someone steady and reliable.” The moment the words left your mouth, you saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he masked it with his usual cool demeanor.

If you choose Angel: “Angel, I’d love for you to look after me!” You grinned, and her face lit up with delight.

If you choose Misaki: “Misaki! I want you as my guardian!” You laughed at her excited squeal as she jumped up and down.

If you choose Ronin: “I’m going with Ronin. I think he’ll keep things... interesting.” A teasing smile spread across your face as Ronin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your choice.

If you chose V:

V’s expression shifted slightly, his cool facade cracking just enough for a hint of a smile to appear. “Interesting choice,” he remarked, his voice steady. “Just remember, I’m not a hugger, and I prefer silence over chatter.” The others chuckled at his classic V-ness, but you could see the glint of approval in his eyes. “But if you need someone to help you focus or keep you out of trouble, I suppose I can manage.” He inclined his head slightly, making you feel like you’d made a wise decision.

If you chose Angel:

Angel squealed with delight, clapping her hands together. “Yay! I’m so excited!” She bounced on her toes, her enthusiasm lighting up the room. “We’re going to have so much fun! I’ll make sure you have everything you need—snacks, a cozy spot to hang out, and I’ll always be your biggest fan!” Her bright personality radiated warmth, and you couldn’t help but smile back at her infectious energy. It felt reassuring to know she’d be there to support you through the ups and downs of being in the band.

If you chose Misaki:

“YES! Finally, someone who knows how to have fun!” Misaki exclaimed, launching herself at you for a quick hug. “We’re going to make this band the wildest one ever!” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she pulled back and grabbed your hand. “Get ready for spontaneous dance parties and chaotic practice sessions! You’re gonna love it!” Her chaotic energy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh, already picturing all the shenanigans that awaited you.

If you chose Ronin:

Ronin’s smirk widened, a glimmer of intrigue flickering in his eyes. “Oh? You want me to look after you?” he teased, leaning closer with a playful yet slightly sinister grin. “I hope you’re ready for a wild ride, then. I promise to make you tougher.” The others rolled their eyes, but you could feel the heat of his gaze. “Just remember, I don’t do hand-holding. You’ll have to keep up with me.” There was a strange mix of challenge and allure in his words, and you found yourself oddly excited at the prospect of navigating this complicated dynamic with him.

The banter continued, everyone began to settle into their roles, the energy in the room shifting from uncertainty to an electric thrill. It felt like a new chapter was opening, and you were eager to dive headfirst into this chaotic world filled with music, friendships, and the occasional drama.

“Welcome to Angelgothic, (Y/N),” Vince said, a proud smile on his face. “You’ve officially joined our crazy family.”

The acceptance from everyone made your heart swell with happiness.

part 2!

W-what you- k-killed somone?! You h-have blood?!

"Look, sweetheart, you see this crowbar? It’s got your name written all over it. You’re just a drummer, just like the last one. And trust me, he didn’t end well. So unless you want to end up just like him, keep your mouth shut. I’ve got no patience for some whiny emo loser ruining our lives. Got it?”

Congrats Y/n! You did join a hell-den!

If this post is good, I'll do a part 2! Until then!

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