#ronin beaufort x reader

[vandme12]

Hello I love your writing and characterization of Ronin!! You’re incredibly talented and your portrayal of him is so good 🫶

I was wondering if you could write hurt/comfort Ronin with a reader who is maybe dealing with the death anniversary of losing someone who was close to them in the past? This one is a bit self indulgent, you can generalize it more if you’d like!! Thank you lovely ❤️

"goreboy: u died or what?"

Typical.

You stare at the message a little too long, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Normally, you’d play along—give him something sharp-edged and flirty, toss back a line about only dying if he asks nicely. It’s the game you both play, the rhythm you’ve fallen into. But not tonight.

Tonight isn’t any other night.

You: "Not in the mood, Ronin."

He leaves you on read.

For once, you’re grateful.

The phone screen dims in your hand as you slump back against the couch, trying—and failing—to swallow down the ache curling in your chest. It should be easier by now. Time’s supposed to dull the edges, smooth over the sharp parts. But grief doesn’t play by the rules, does it?

Some wounds never really close. And some people—God, some people—leave fingerprints you can’t scrub out no matter how hard you try.

Your apartment feels too quiet. Too still. The kind of silence that presses in, heavy and suffocating, when you’re left alone with memories you don’t want but can’t let go of.

The phone buzzes again.

"goreboy: u ever gonna tell me why ur playin dead?"

Nosy bastard.

You bite your lip, debating whether to brush him off. But your fingers move before you decide—like part of you already knows the answer.

You: "...Anniversary."

No explanation. No messy details. He doesn’t need them.

If anyone understands how grief sinks its teeth into you and doesn’t let go—it’s him.

The reply comes faster than you expect.

"goreboy: open ur door."

Your heart stumbles.

He’s joking. He’s always joking. Except… when you pad to the door and crack it open, there he is—leaning against the frame like he owns the whole damn building. Hoodie slouched over his shoulders, one hand shoved in his pocket, eyes dark and glinting in the low light.

"Miss me?" he drawls, voice low and smooth. Too smooth. Like he’s trying not to spook you.

You should ask why he’s here. Should call him out on the fact that he’s always talking a big game, but he showed up the second you stopped playing.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step back—silent invitation—and he slips inside without waiting for more.

The door clicks shut behind him. Just like that, the world feels a little less cold.

You settle on the couch, knees tucked close, as he drops down next to you—sprawled-out arrogance and lazy grace. Close enough to touch if you wanted. If you let yourself.

His voice breaks the quiet first. "So," he drawls, "you gonna tell me what’s eatin’ you, or do I gotta guess?"

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to answer—but because if you start talking, you might not stop. And God, you hate being vulnerable. Hate giving anyone that kind of power.

Still. It’s Ronin.

And somehow, that makes it worse—and easier—all at once.

"Someone I lost," you admit, voice low and rough around the edges. "A long time ago. But tonight… it just hurts more."

He doesn’t mock you. Doesn’t brush it off with some shitty joke.

For once, he just listens.

"Yeah," he says, softer than you’ve ever heard him. "I get that."

His arm stretches along the back of the couch, casual—but not really. You know the offer when you see it. And without thinking, you lean into the warmth of him, letting his body bleed the cold out of yours.

You shouldn’t. You should keep your distance. But he makes it too easy.

"Don’t gotta play tough with me," he murmurs, voice curling warm at the edges. "I like it when you’re soft."

Your breath stutters. You hate how easy it is for him to disarm you—to find the cracks and dig his fingers in like he’s been waiting for the moment you break.

"I keep thinking about how they’d hate this," you confess. "Me, sitting here, falling apart. I promised I’d keep going." A shaky breath. "Some days, I’m not sure I am."

His hand moves—slow, deliberate—until his fingers are curling against your jaw, tilting your face toward his. And when you meet his gaze, there’s nothing playful about it. Nothing sharp or cruel. Just heat. Just him.

"Bullshit," he says, and it’s almost angry. "You’re here, aren’t you? Breathin’, fightin’. That’s gotta count for somethin’."

You search his face for the usual smirk, the familiar mockery—but there isn’t any.

"Besides," he adds, fingers brushing against your pulse, "if they mattered to you, they wouldn’t want you drowning in this. They’d want you to live."

The words hit something fragile and aching inside you—cracking it wide open. And when you blink, the sting behind your eyes burns hotter.

"Why do you care?" The question slips out before you can stop it—quieter than you mean for it to be.

His lips curl, slow and dangerous—but there’s no malice in it. No game. Just something raw and aching, hidden beneath the swagger.

"Told you already, sweetheart," he says, dragging two fingers against your temple like he could map out every haunted, broken part of you. "You’re mine."

A pause. A breath.

"Even the fucked-up bits."

And for once—you don’t argue.

His hand slides to the side of your neck, thumb brushing slow circles against your skin—steady, grounding. Something you could hold onto if you let yourself.

"Stay in your head too long, it’ll eat you alive," he says, quieter now. "So… how ‘bout you let me keep you distracted?"

It’s an offer you should refuse. You should push him away—cut the cord before he tangles himself any deeper into you. But the ache is heavy, and his warmth is right there, and you’re too tired to fight it.

"You already are," you whisper.

His thumb presses just a little harder against your pulse, and something flickers in his gaze—dark and pleased.

"Good." The word slides off his tongue like a promise. "Wouldn’t want you forgettin’ I’m here."

As if you ever could.

When he leans in—when his lips brush your temple, soft and warm—you let yourself relax against him. For the first time tonight, the ache in your chest feels a little easier to carry.

You can’t blame him for it. Not when he leans against the edge of your world with that lazy, toothy grin like he belongs there. Like he was made for the exact purpose of pulling you down with him.

He’s the devil with his hands on your heart, and God help you—you let him.

And now? Now he’s sitting in front of you, head tilted just so, watching the tears you thought you were good at hiding. He doesn’t ask why you’re crying. Doesn’t need to.

“Remember last Christmas?” he asks instead, low and easy, like it’s the most natural thing to bring up when you’re barely holding yourself together.

Your breath catches. “What…?”

“You were annoying as hell.” His grin sharpens. “Rotten saint act and all. Tryna’ play angel to my devil. Bet if I had the same thing goin’ on, you’d help me, wouldn’t ya?”

And yeah—you would. You have. You always do. Even when you shouldn’t.

He leans in closer, voice dipping to something softer, rough edges catching on a rare kindness. “So… I’m helpin’ you too. Why?” His fingers twitch at his side before lifting, rough and warm against your face. “’Cause I love ya, idiot.”

The words land somewhere in your chest—sharp and sudden. A pain you can’t decide if you want to hold onto or let go of. It makes you laugh, barely—a wet, broken sound. And when you tip forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, you don’t miss the way he stills beneath it.

For once, the devil shuts up.

But only for a breath.

He snickers, recovering like it never happened, like you didn’t just knock the wind out of him with the gentlest thing you’ve ever done. “You wantin’ a grand romance, darling?” A beat. His voice curls sweet and mean at the edges. “If you’re tall enough to reach, that is.”

Cocky bastard.

You almost shove him for it—almost. But there’s something else under his voice. Something raw, half-hidden behind the bravado. He likes it. He likes you.

And if you listen close enough—if you dare to believe it—maybe he needs this as much as you do.

He won’t say it again. Not unless you make him. But he’ll keep his hand on your cheek, thumb brushing over the tear tracks with a touch that’s softer than it should be. And maybe that’s enough.

For now.

[spiderlilywritings]

a rotten angel's retribution

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

You've always been a good person.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You'll be their karma.

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

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

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

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

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

The pipe falls from your hands.

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

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

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

All was silent.

"Well, well, well..."

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

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

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

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

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

Stupid, beautiful, murderous Ronin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...Yeah." 

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

"God... I..."

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

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

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

#announcements

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

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

#main

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

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

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

<killerwriter>: yes

<killerwriter>: well

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

<goreboy>: it was Glorious, was there Myself

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

<killerwriter>: ???

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

<goreboy>: I got My ways, baby

<killerwriter>: 🙄

<killerwriter>: the police suck in Uptown btw

divider by: @/fawndollie

[puzzledprose]

can you give us hcs of ronin?? pls?? 🙏 you can do both sfw or nsfw

Well since you asked so nicely 😙

For a character I like so much I’m complete ASS at writing him, alas I will try my best. Sorry if this read a little disjointed or weird this is just a massive thought dump.

I feel like this one require a few warnings: mentions of murder, sadism, knife play, very brief blood play (?)

Ronin x Reader: General HC

Ronin is the worlds most egregious boundary pusher. He would never truly violate a boundary but he pushes them enough just to keep you on edge. Will make you watch horror movies just to see you scared (I know everyone says this but that’s because it’s TRUE.)

I wouldn’t say that Ronin keeps “trophies” for a lot of his killings, he takes photos often but those are mostly for bragging purposes. However, if a victim of his owns an item he thinks is cool he will take it.

Subsequently he has a lot of random things around his house. A lot of it is jewellery like rings or necklaces, sometimes he wears it out of the house for the thrill.

But if YOU wear anything he got from a victim…

Drives Ronin crazy. It makes him feel like he’s properly claimed you.

“What a morbid way to propose? Really got you to the dark side now darlin’”

Okay Nsfw time

*Shoos minors away with a broom*

I think we can all agree this guy is at least a little bit of a sadist. THIS! MAN! PULLS! HAIR! Obviously wouldn’t go any further than that without asking but the power trip he gets from giving you pain? And you like it??? He’s so into it.

Possibly into the idea of knife play? I can’t imagine him wanting big cuts but maybe just enough to draw blood and/or scare you.

Eating him out and he pulls on your hair to make you look up at him 😵‍💫

Giving Ronin head is a whole other thing oh my god. He loves it so much

He will go insane if you suck his Tdick.

He is 100% a groaner in my head. Also lots of profanity.

His dirty talk is either the filthiest thing you will ever hear or really poetic for no reason

Ronin naturally takes on a dominant role in bed but will really get off on the idea of you challenging it. Just so that he can put you back into your place.

Push him over onto his back and watch as he flips the two of you over and pins your hands above your head.

“Really thought you had the upper hand there, huh baby?”

So sorry if this is short and terrible life’s been getting really busy for me recently 😅 I’m definitely going to keep up on my requests though (not like I have any)

Hope you enjoyed ♥️ 🔪

[dumjokes]

RONIN BEAUFORT X READER

||ONE-SHOT||

Mostly in his POV, Sorry if I got his character wrong!! They/them pronouns are used!

A typical afternoon with Ronin is awesome. cuddling in bed with one another after he comes back from work and killing, eating lunch and dinner together, watching TV and just enjoying each other's company, but today isn't a normal afternoon for either of you, Ronin is on his day off and hes obviously going to spend it with you.

"Nooooo-!" They exclaim with a whine to him as he cackles not taking what they want to do seriously.

"Darling! Come on it's not that serious-" He starts before cackling more, adding a wonky hairstyle on the stick figure. Which was supposed to be a drawing of his Darling, his fallen angel, his writer, his artist, his Y/n. Sadly it doesn't look like them, it looks like a crude drawing a 5 year old would give their parents after preschool.

“I'm stressed over making you look good to be met with that! ” They whine to him pointing to the masterpiece they've made of him comparing it to his stick figure of them.

"Y/n, it's not that bad, hm? Why do I need to draw a picture when you and your pretty aorta is right in front of me?" He murmurs smirking hand already outstretched and caressing their face like they're the most precious thing in the world. Even though he could totally kill them. He wouldn't though, they're too precious too kind, too sweet and all his.

"....." They look flustered leaning into his touch, practically stunned from the sudden attention before melting into it like a lovesick puppy. Lookin' at him like he's a nightmare gone right after too many boring days alone, staring at the pitch black of his eyes, the same eyes that only shine for them, he's their devil, their antichrist, their killer, their Ronin.

"Look at the time darling! Seems like it's almost time for bed?" His hand moves from their face to lift them up. "ACK-" they screeched, practically stunned as he lifted them up bridal style carrying them back to their room, a king sized mattress, pink sheets, a fluffy pillow, and an army of stuffed animals are strategically placed (thrown) on the bed. Their collection of items and trinkets proudly displayed on one wall while another has his antichrist devilish decor.

He plops them onto the bed right onto the pillow, then sitting on the side of the bed, watching their still flustered face. "Darling... Y/nnn..." He gets closer whispering into their ear seeing them get more flustered before leaning back and laughing at them. Before tackling them with a hug, tickling them till they turn red in the face for a different reason.

"Look at my precious lover's smile! Your face is so pretty like always," he stops tickling them before rubbing their throat with his thumb, almost lost in thought, his actions weren't threatening his touch was too light to be threatening. "What?" They questioned looking at him with concern, the concern is not from fear mostly curiosity, their eyes shining at him like the sun, the moon, and the stars in the sky. Like he's their Earth. Needed, wanted, loved possibly to a fucked up amount.

"Nothing, darling! I just don't wanna go to work. Especially since I have a pretty thing like you around at home waiting for me." He murmurs, nuzzling his nose against theirs in a nose-to-nose kiss before, giving them a proper kiss and laying fully on top of them. Not letting them move.

"You're trapped now!" He cackles, snuggling his face against their neck not moving at all. Tangling his legs with theirs for added security so they don't leave but he knows they wouldn't, he feels their breathing slow, their arms wrapping around him and when their fully asleep, snoring, but peaceful he dozes off too, listening to their breathing and their heartbeat that only beats for him.

[aurmisery]

confessions unheard: sickening sweetness.

a ronin b. x gn! reader for 'My Fallen Valentine's.'

okay as you can guess this is going to be ronin x reader ! hope i did this prompt correctly? i just thought of really sweet (unhinged even) fluff.

cw // depictions of gore and viscera, this is ronin we're talking about LMFAO, violence, references to cat-calling/sexual harassment, drinking,

-and i'm sure that's it!

sorry if this is ooc, since this is supposed to be sweet n shit i tried making him more of a loser and uncharacteristically in love??? also i don't even know if he drinks and im sure it's probably not canon for him to be feinin this much 😭

idrk if i have a good grip on his character n all but i tried my best!! sorry for all the filler in this lol

good luck to everyone else participating!

(FUCKING FINALLY I GOT ALL THE WORDS BACK PLUS MORE!?! ENJOY!!!!! and if there's any errors....just ignore it...for my sake...)

word count: 5723 ❤️

something's...wrong, with ronin.

well- you technically could say that out of context and nothing would change, but no, something is terribly wrong with him. and surprisingly, it's not the fact that he's a serial killer with a kill count that rises practically everyday, nor is it the human remains aligning his shelves.

he's been out of it lately. constantly pacing around the reds and blacks of his room, all the while being more...fidgety than usual, unable to focus or parade his regular devil-may-care attitude around.

this is really fucking weird for him; ronin beaufort is the devil, and the devil doesn't change. he remains in the darkest pits of hell and slaps his knee at the idea of it, even.

he's unchanging, eternal, his punishment being no different.

so why couldn't he focus on his damn job and get this fucking filter replaced?

sweat beads down his forehead, grease coating his arms as he strained his neck further beneath the car, wrist flicking with each turn on the drain bolt and eventually...

it loosens, crust fluttering from the grooves of the screw, and the must of... whatever the hell's been sitting in this person's tank slowly infiltrating his nose.

it didn't have the strong petroleum scent, none of the chemical sharpness, and it didn't snake up his nose like new oil did either-

it smelled charred. ashy, even, and the must was evident as he turned the bolt and it did the rest of the work, a thick, almost black sludge filtering out of the tank and all over the concrete ground with a wet thud.

lacking a quick reaction, ronin's brows knitted low, letting a small 'fuck,' pass by his lips as he turned and reached around for wherever the hell he laid the oil catch pan.

he forgot to put it under the plug...somehow.

he's been forgetting to do a lot of things recently, matter of fact.

he shoves the thought down. he probably just needs to stop staring at a screen as soon as he comes home and get more rest, yeah, that's it.

speaking of a screen, when did you last text him? actually, when's the last time you two have held a conversation?

he slides the pan from beside him underneath the gunk-spewing tank, rolling from under the car and grabbing his tools and such off the ground, running his nails through the tips of his low ponytail.

...maybe he should check his phone.

it wouldn't hurt, just to see if there's a notification from you. he did get your number, finally. took a bit of convincing and some back-and-forth before you slid it, but now he has one of his best friends at his fingertips.

best...friends.

the collocation doesn't really fit with you, or at least the image he has of you. sure, you're his friend, a damn good one at that, and if he were to use it the way a normal person would, he would definitely call you his best friend.

but it doesn't feel right for him to call you that.

it's not like you're undeserving of the title, but it just doesn't fit with you. should he create a nice little title for ya?

he grins at the idea, and doesn't seem to notice the blackened oil trickling over his knuckles as he fumbles with his password.

you two are like... peanut butter and jelly? nah, overused, and stupidly corny. you two are like...thelma and louise! ehhh, he's not feeling it. cool reference, but maybe there's something else buried in that skull of his.

he leans against the car door, finally wiping his hand over the thin material of one of his plain work shirts. you can't really wear anything cool when you're working as a mechanic, after all.

tom and jerry? you two do bicker a lot. eh, not enough, also doesn't have that ring to it. bonnie and clyde? hard maybe, it'd be perfect if it was more platonic, besides, you two are just friends anyway.

friends- ugh, he cringes at that. he can't just dilute his partner in crime to a...friend.

naming you his partner in crime is very basic, but considering the underlying context between you two, it's rather fitting, right?

yeah, you're his partner in crime. plus, it doubles as a Set It Off reference in a way. fitting, veeeery fitting, actually.

"yo, beaufort! i'mma need this area in about 2 to 3, you finishin' up over there?"

a burly voice calls out- presumably one of his coworkers, and the twist in ronin's lips gives out- no notification from you.

he types out a quick message to you: 'still Alive?' as he slides his phone back onto the work table, he'll check it later- and only when he's done with this stupid replacement.

he lowers himself onto his creeper, rolling underneath the car whilst pulling the sludge-filled tin from underneath the ink-smeared tank and flushing the rest of the old oil out.

he grabs a wrench, tapping the rust and burnt oil from the plug and screwing it right back to its rightful place. he can do this quick, he's done this hundreds of times before, what's one more?

he's taking out the old tank when a high pitched chime rings out from his work table, his notifications alerting him of a new message.

weirdly enough, his motions freeze on cue and he's about to stand up and check it like it was instinct. but- well, he was still under the car.

a sharp, hollow crack rang through the garage as his head met the steel frame above him. a curse shot from his lips, low and snarled as the pain bloomed across his skull. eyes squeezed shut, he gritted his teeth, pressing a palm against the fresh ache.

for a moment he just...laid there, letting his arms fall flat on the concrete below him, exhaling through his nose and letting the pain settle before daring to move again.

what the hell's wrong with him? he told himself that he wasn't going to check his phone 'till he's done with this, and this is one of the easiest things to do in this field! why is it taking him this long?

through his wavering vision, he could spot two muddied boots slinking besides the car he's under, before they creased and the person sunk into a crouch.

"you okay there, kid?"

ronin rolled his eyes- 'kid', only one or two people here call him that, and the baritone of his voice paired with those boots must mean that the manager was doing his rounds and decided to check in on him.

"'m fine, just layin' on the concrete 'cause i wanna."

a thick rumble reminisce of a chuckle reins deep from the gut of the older man, before he cleared his throat and reached a gloved hand out underneath the car.

"need an ice pack?"

he eyed it- could help if there's any possibility of a bruise or a welt showing up, but as ronin ran a hand down his face, he gave a shake of his head.

it doesn't really hurt that badly anymore.

"nah, thanks though. just...lemme finish this and i'll be on my way out."

a grunt followed, the gloved hand retracting from under the car, and the raggedy pair of boots turned out of view.

alright, fuck it- let's just get this over with.

.

.

.

with a quick brush of his hands, ronin came out to the front, tapping on one of the various workers and letting them know that he was clocking out for the day.

slinging his bag over his arm, he was met with a calloused palm fixed onto his shoulder blade. he turns, and yep- the big guy.

"get some rest, you seem off your game."

the grouch's voice was unusually sincere, and it almost made ronin's gaze soften before the older man gave him an overly enthusiastic tussle of the hair.

"you're still young. sleep is important for you."

he's eyeing the light bags beneath his eyes and ronin could tell, but he only shrugged and gave a sloppy salute in return.

"yeah yeah, no kiddin', i'll be on my 'best' behavior next time. see ya later, old timer."

the gruff man stiffly nodded, immediately disappearing into the busy background as ronin turned and headed for the door.

as soon as the bell overhead chimed, he padded in his passcode and opened his messenger app, pleased to see the '3' icon bubbled besides your nickname.

[writer Darlin']

-'Sadly, my heart is still beating 😭'

-'agent's on my ass so I've been writing another piece for as long as I can whilst the hype is still high'

-'wouldja put me outta my misery?'

and there comes that feeling again, the staticky unease that bleeds into his cheeks, that flows in his chest and even shows through the light tremble of his fingers.

and then the obnoxious twist of his lips, the smile that weaves itself thick and heavy on his lower jaw that he can't seem to rip off, and he steps a bit slower through the sidewalk.

-'nah, i think I'll let ya Suffer a bit longer...'

-'besides, what's a devil to do Without entertainment?'

at this rate, you're probably rolling your eyes out of your own skull because of him, and he'd want nothing less.

[writer Darlin']

-'damn, cruel. shouldn't have expected the devil to be my savior anyway, guess I'll have to ask a sweetheart like Angel to smite me instead of your lame ass 🙄'

as soon as your reply dropped, he responded. no, not out of jealousy or anything stupid like that, but c'mon, be honest with yourself.

-'you've already got Lucifer himself staring over your shoulder, don'tcha think you're being selfish by hoarding all of the Divine power?'

he knows he's being a little shit, but that's just how he is when it comes to his best buds.

he's scrolling through your previous text messages, and it's enough to put a strain over his heartstrings. it's always a dance with you, and he wouldn't have it any other w-

...he nearly walks into a street light.

awkwardly shoving his phone back into his pocket, he decided to worry about getting home alive without some random slip-up ending in his death or worse.

yikes- yeah, he just needs a good kill and a few more hours of rest, and everything will go back to normal. that's all he needs.

...did you respond to his text yet?

.

.

.

maybe ronin was back to his usual self, because after going home and cleaning up, he felt like a new man.

it could've just been ridding himself of the grease and powder from his workplace, or maybe it was the thrill seeping its way back into his bones as he ran a finger over the cold, heavy iron of his crowbar.

changing back into his usual aesthetic helped too, reds and blacks with accents of silver coating him from head to toe, devil horns peeking atop the grey and black fabric of his beanie.

now that he's in uniform, pep flooded his step as he threaded his blackened nails through the silk of his hair, sliding out through his front door and into the night.

who's going to be his lucky pick for today?

.

.

.

he found his victim rather quickly.

greasy brown hair hung in uneven clumps around his sunken face, a pair of bloodshot eyes, watery and half-lidded, scanned the street with a predatory gleam, glinting with something both lazy and lecherous.

and each time a woman pedalled by, presumably hoping to get home before the night sky blackened further, his lips would curl into a crooked grin.

his targets were few and far between, but he made sure that every one of them knew that he had a mouthful of things to say about them right off the bat.

...no matter how young they looked.

it was almost funny, he wanted a victim and he found the best candidate as soon as he set out searching. who'd miss a scumbag like him? uptown needs their savior, after all.

it's more than enough to warrant bashing his head in for the night, and the perfect opportunity to clear his own in the meantime.

the narrow walls of the alley were slicked with grime and shadows. overhead, a single flickering street light was trying its' best to illuminate the corner with its green-hued flare.

its dying glow cast over the alley, draping its rickety textures in a haunting atmosphere- fitting, given that ronin had doused these walls with blood before.

the pavement was littered with crumpled newspapers, shattered glass, and puddles of murky water that reeked of decay. a nauseating stench hung heavy in the air- a blend of rotting food, damp mold, and something metallic and sour, like old blood.

scraping his crowbar along the exposed pipes decorating the filthy path, he tapped it against the dingy metal, once, twice- until finally, the scumbag turns his head, yellow teeth fixed into a scowl.

got him.

ronin's fingers flexed around the warming iron of his trusty weapon, before lifting it and raking its teeth against the brittle brick, a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard grating through the stale air.

"cut that shit out," a low snarl, warning, biting, even. the man's now leaning uneasily over his own two feet, glass bottle tight within the drunk's grasp.

ronin whistled out a long, sharp burst, dragging his tool against the cracked concrete, glass occasionally crunching under his platforms.

"you wanna go, asshole?" the pig snarled, vocal cords strummed with copious amounts of alcohol and mucus as his wrist wiped over his running nose.

the drunken bravado of this prick is more than enough to have ronin's fingers itching to burrow through his abdomen- to wreak havoc across this bastard's body and let him know what hell truly looks like.

the drunkard's now storming towards ronin, almost tripping over his own shoes as he slung slurred words and insults towards him.

little did he know, he was just luring him deeper within the emptied twists and turns of the alley, just to ensure that he gets enough time to hear him scream without any unneeded innocents stopping by and getting an eyeful of gore beyond their wildest nightmares.

eventually, the lone streetlight stopped its' flickering, dimming into a low hum buzz as its' glow grew weaker and weaker- and finally into pitch black.

how well can a drunk man see in the darkness?

.

.

.

it was the same routine. wash, rinse, repeat. mangle the disfigured body into whatever position he wanted and splatter the newly-killed man's innards all over the alley concrete for all to judge.

but the experience was....rather lacking. he barely had a taste of the rush, of the adrenaline rushing through his veins. it died out quickly, and he's right back to thinking of you as he slips through the night and right back into his sanctuary.

[goreboy] 04:06

-'hey Angel is cupid Also an Angel?'

[Angelic] 04:07

-'Well that's a lot of capitalization, especially with the A's but I don't think so? I think he's some god or something in Greek mythology, but I'm not too sure. Why?'

[goreboy] 04:07

-'you two have wings Good enough'

-'tell him to fuck off please and Thanks!'

-'and hey, you know i can't resist that Sweet sweet alliteration.'

[Angelic] 04:07

'How do I deal with you...'

'But wait wait wait, what does that mean? Cupid?'

he feels instant regret- he shouldn't be texting or ranting or whatever the fuck he's doing to angel right now. she's got her own shit going on, and he's skipping like a school girl in a field of daisies- well, preferably bodies, over the thought of...

you. god, it makes his heart hurt. why? how would he know?

he has to hunt you down for this- you definitely cast some weird spell on him to make him feel this strongly for whatever reason and it's absolutely destroying him.

sure, he cares about you, deeply. you're really close and he enjoys being around you, but he didn't know that hanging out with you a couple of times would amount to...this.

and now he's spiraling inside of his own head, falling apart at the seams so easily, and he doesn't even know why.

[goreboy] 04:13

-'oh god bless my bleeding Heart'

-'...'

-'it's Nothing.'

[Angelic] 04:13

'Ronin, is there something going on?'

being sardonically impulsive was a trait that rarely bit ronin in the ass, especially when his instincts were usually sharp, but when it did- it wasn't a fun time.

tucking his head in a bandage-draped palm, he dangled his fingers over the keyboard, only for them to hang motionlessly.

what does he even say to that? "i'm falling in love with one of my best friends and for the first time i'm too much of a pussy to admit it! woe is me!" give him a break.

[Angelic] 04:16

-'You don't have to tell me anything, but if there's anything going on, you know you have a safe place with me, no matter how irritating you are.'

-'Regardless, you really should sit down and just process anything that could be troubling you. Get some sleep in and see how you feel in the morning about everything, y'know?'

'-And if it's cupid related, I don't mind playing matchmaker. 🤍'

ronin couldn't help the smile creeping up on his lips. it helped, y'know? remembering that he had someone in his corner who he could confide in when things got heavy.

[goreboy] 04:17

-'Noted'

-'...'

-'thanks. for y'know, Everything.'

-'and that last bit seems rather Interesting despite the fact that you're basically a Lamer version of cupid'

[Angelic] 04:18

-'I hate you oh so very much 😭'

a dry chuckle vibrates through his chest, and he's shutting off his computer, letting the screen fade to black.

she's right, though. instead of moping in self pity, he should sleep on it, maybe even pray that he won't feel anything for you when the sun rises and he gets out of bed.

he lazily sets his phone on his nightstand, not bothering to plug it up before he had a double take, hitting the power button and reading the numbers in bold.

"4:20 AM."

didn't he say something about getting more sleep?

shit.

.

.

.

he wished he could say that sleep did something for him in the grand scheme of things...

it did little to nothing, especially with the time he went to sleep. now he's restless, maybe a tad manic, and driving himself absolutely mad at the thought of you.

god, it feels as though his teeth are about to fall straight out of their sockets- and not just because he's been slapping himself dumb around his room all night.

he's been thinking- way, way, way, way too much. thinking about his feelings, what he wants, if there's a possibility of you feeling anything too, if you want him too.

further in the day, he thought that perhaps a drink or two will smooth the rough edges, shut his brain up enough for him to do the usual, but after a glass, or two...maybe three, he wasn't getting any closer to salvation.

he still thinks about it- those rare times that you've two hung out and you would casually slink an arm over him or play with his hair as you two binged another horror franchise. the times where he'd turn to watch your reaction at a movie heavily relying on shock value and how you'd scoot a little closer to him after it.

was he just imagining that? did your heart beat no faster at the idea of being closer to him? was all of this normal for you? whenever you went outside to do something simple, like checking the mail, did you not spot something that reminded you of him?

because as he's trailing down the countless alleyways he has memorized like the back of his hand, everything he looks at sends his mind into a blurry fuzz of everything you.

he didn't even notice the storm clouds rolling in, and the low grumble of faraway thunder did little to dissuade him from traveling farther from home, despite his lack of jacket or umbrella.

he felt like a stray dog wandering the streets with a maw full of bleeding rot, looking for something to devour that'll push the feeling down.

but there's nothing to do to push it down, to cast it out of sight and out of mind, and he's too full of feelings that he doesn't know what to do with-

should he pick out another kill for him to waste his time on?

normally, that'd be something he'd consider, something he'd chase out and bide his time on until the adrenaline, the rush, the high- would hopefully push you out of mind.

but he knows it'll just fail, like it did the day before.

the sky's weeping heavier at this point, and he's just now wringing out the black fabric of his shirt, drenched beyond relief at this rate.

he shrugs it off like it's whatever, as if the thunder and fat raindrops pummeling down on him was nothing more than an inconvenience, and he decides to retreat back home for the day.

each stride through the darkening streets feel almost weightless as he trails down the empty sidewalks, and it's right there.

his sanctuary.

except he turns the doorknob and it's... locked.

a frown bags over his lower jaw, and he tries it again. nope, locked.

and then a hollered "i'll be right there!" muffles behind the door. wait, what?

he looks forward, noticing the unfamiliar 'welcome!' rug at the doors front steps, and the change in scenery around him.

the door opens, and before he can hot tail it out of there, you're peeking out from behind the frame, and your brows furrow.

fuck, he's so screwed.

did he really self sabotage himself so badly in his drunken stupor that he walked to your front door instead of his?

because now he gets to see you- in person. and he doesn't know if he can handle that right now, if he can stand face to face with you knowing how his heartbeat quickens at the sound of your voice, nonetheless seeing you right before him.

you're motionless for a second, eyes beading over his form in a vertical line before you craned the door wide open, a mix of concern and confusion etched onto your face and he sobered up at the sight immediately.

don't you see that you're opening the front door to the worst person right now? fuck, why did you decide to answer? you shouldn't have, you really, really shouldn't have.

it felt like he was dying of embarrassment, and death had never felt so foreign and uneasy in his chest as he gave you a nervous grin.

"uh, hey."

his voice was dry and nearly died out as soon as the words left his lips, a faint crack ending off of his awkward greeting.

and suddenly, he could feel the way his pants weighed more than usual and how his shirt stuck uncomfortably close to his skin, fat raindrops still pummeling him under the dark sky.

"is it...normal, for you to be standing in the pouring rain?"

it was a jab, a friendly one at that, but your lighthearted words were simultaneously laced with...shock? surprise? maybe pity?

he pulled at his collar, sheepishly rubbing at the nape of his neck as water trickled down against his spine, causing a shiver to stream through him.

"uh, yeah-yep. y'know, just, uh...getting some fresh air."

getting fresh air in the middle of a thunderstorm? yeah, right. he was hoping to lean into the dry humor of it all and maybe crack a smile out of you that would allow him to brush past the inevitable 'what the fuck are you doing here?' question, but fate said otherwise.

"well, maybe you should come inside? i mean-you're soaked and the night's only gonna get darker."

immediate no. he cannot let himself step through your doorway, he cannot delve between the walls that's everything...you. that's the LAST thing he needs right now, last thing he should surround himself with.

you tug at the wet fabric of one of his sleeves, as if trying to guide him into the warmth of your home, but he only nails his palms over the ridges of your doorframe, enabling him still.

"no, i'd rather stay riiiight here, thank you."

you side eyed the worsening weather at his back and grazed your pupils over to his, staring at him as if he said something funny.

"ronin-"

"'m fine where i stand, thanks darlin'."

you frown, your brow raised strictly as if you were about to scold him, but you held your tongue for whatever reason, as if you could tell that he really didn't want to step inside.

"fine, but if you get a cold and i have to take care of your ass, don't tell me i didn't warn you."

is it bad that the scenario doesn't sound too bad to him?

his heart's working against him in ways he never knew it could, and before he could shut himself up, he's leaning further towards you, eyelids heavy and irises locked onto yours.

"you'd take care of me if i were sick?"

he didn't realize how desperate he was coming across, but when he heard the immediate drop in his tone and the lack of crypt in his voice, he felt a flutter in his chest. fuck, you're killing him.

the attitude slathered all over your face phases over, shifting into light solemn as you cross your arms, giving a small nod.

"yeah, of course. i care about you,"

fuck, you're killing him!

"-you're one of my bestest friends, after all."

oh my god, put him out of his misery already!

he's never rolled his eyes harder, he could've sworn he saw the man on the cross himself for a moment and he could've set on his knees as a believer right then and there.

maybe he should ask for the lord to strike him down here and now, and hopefully with enough repentance he'll die on the spot.

unluckily for him, you noticed his reaction, the way his head turned and his x'ed out pupils narrowed and slid out of view. the way his head veered away from you and his nostrils flared momentarily.

now you're curious, and you already know what happens to those who question things they probably shouldn't. curiosity killed the cat, 'n all.

"well, you have something to say, yeah? this is the first time i've seen satan himself shivering, so should i assume that hell finally froze over?"

the jest in your voice was unmistakable, but so was the genuine undertone of your question. he wished he could turn you away and soothe your curiosity with a toothy grin that told you all you needed to hear-

but with how he's standing ahead of you like a deer in headlights, he'd reckon that it wouldn't do much to salvage this situation.

"i don't," he began, only to slap a hand over his face with his index and middle fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"i, i can't, it's..."

he drawls off, and he can feel it, the excuses longing to claw their way out of the confines of his throat, the overwhelming need to escape your gaze, and the hesitation churning in his abdomen.

"wow, whatever the hell you're going on about is really fucking you up, huh?"

you weren't wrong. this was definitely out of character, especially for ronin out of all people.

you clicked your tongue, rolling it over your teeth as you mentally noted the slight tremor in his body.

"are you...sure you don't want to come in?"

your voice falls on deaf ears, he's too absorbed in it all, in everything you do down to the smallest things. it's embarrassing, really, the dilation of his pupils following the view of your tongue running over the angle of your canines.

the sight should strike terror into his bones and he knows it. he should be running for the hills at this point - what can he even do to tilt the odds in his favor?

and yeah, he's fucking horrified. horrified at the way that his face doesn't pale in fear, but hazes over with the lightest pink. horrified at the way his heartstrings tense and pull, as if his heart was trying to ruthlessly beat itself out of its' bindings.

you're the scariest thing he's come across. the careless ruffle of your hair, the rosy pigment blotched over your bottom lip, and that...casual look in your eye. the way light dances and reflects in your irises like the prettiest firework show he's ever seen.

you're bad. really fucking bad for him, you're the worst thing he's laid eyes on, and he knows it once your head tilts in confusion and his gut wrangles high into his throat. what the fuck are you doing to him? do you know what the fuck you're doing to him?

you're probably deeper in the pits of hell than he is, and that's saying something. you're dangerous! akin to some monstrosity that the likes of man couldn't even fathom.

he was wrong for questioning your lack of survival instincts when you opened the door for him, he should've been questioning his own when he wandered to your front door like a lamb to the slaughter.

instead of having your aorta between his fingers, you have his wrangled between yours, and you don't even fucking know it.

the crackle of thunder right down the street is enough to wake him from his internal monologue, and he realizes that you're basically shaking him dry, snapping your fingers before him in a pitiful attempt to 'wake him up'.

"jesus christ," you heave, and you're grabbing him by the wrists, the heat of your fingers locking around his pulse burned his cheeks into a brighter shade of pink that, for once, made him look more alive than corpse.

"ronin, talk to me. tell me what's going on, please, you're not acting like yourself, and that says something."

the sound of his lifeline thumps heavy in his eardrums, even as he digs his teeth into the crackled, slightly bloodied mess of his bottom lip. he can feel the random, morbid variations of everything he's been feeling coursing through his veins.

they taste odd, unbalanced over the piercing on his tongue, and he doesn't even know how to describe it himself. fuck it, he's here right now, he needs to do something about these feelings while they're still fresh and bleeding, but all the ideas garble up into pathetic word vomit once he gets a hold of them.

he's eyeing the wet glisten of your lash line, and he notices you're now, too, partially in the rain. the hands holding his wrists now interlocked with his, fingers crisscrossing over one another.

he's thinking about it all; the times you've shared, ranging from your hangouts to your gaming sessions, and they all were...

perfectly imperfect.

yeah, the time you two went out for ice cream and not even two steps away from the truck, your scoops splattered all over the pavement. or the last time you guys hung out over at his place and blackjack- his pet rat, started nibbling on your fingers and you nearly dropped the damned thing.

nothing ever seemed to go as planned when your paths crossed. it was as if the gods themselves conspired to curse your time together, weaving misfortune into every interaction, a twisted, modern-day version of romeo and juliet. yet, no matter how things unraveled, the night would always end the same: with laughter, warmth, and the unmistakable feeling that none of it mattered as long as you were together.

the stupidest shit could happen on the days that you've planned to see each other on, and no matter what, you two would find a way to work it out, without fail.

standing here now, would telling you ruin everything that's been? divide you two back on your separate roads, the way fate wants it to be?

he's tired of guessing.

twisting black painted nails around the width of your hand, he moves your palm up to the plain of his chest, and your brows raise. he lays it close to his collarbone, but far down enough that the flat of your hand meets the rapid thudding in his body.

"feel how fast my heart's beating?"

you nod.

"would'ja drive a stake through it? spare me my autonomy, quiet the rhythm in my ears and leave me no longer breathing?"

he's closer to you now, the x's in his pupils trailing your every feature, taking in the way your cheeks flush and your lids lower.

"would you consider that mercy? no longer needing to confront your emotions?"

he gives you the slightest smile at your response, the void in his gaze sucking you in as he lays a thumb under the curve of your lower lids, brushing over your cheekbone, smearing a few water droplets across your cheek.

"who wouldn't? that's the beauty in being human, in feeling all these...things. gives us so many weaknesses, so many flaws, but so, so much to discover."

he's almost grinning ear to ear at the sight of your eye twitching irritably, a tight lipped smile spread on your face as you huff. he can tell you want him to get to the point.

so he will.

"ronin, stop all the cryptic talk. just, tell me what's going o-"

"i'm in love with you."

and the warmth pumping through your cheeks increased by tenfold, for a moment, the cogs in your brain just... stalled. you blinked, once, twice, staring at him like he'd just spoke in a language you didn't know.

"wait... what?" the words tumbled out before you could stop them, a mix of confusion and disbelief your words.

"you... you like me?"

"did i stutter?"

"no, no, i-i just...like, like like me?"

it was adorable; how doubting you were, your words almost frantic. and it wasn't in a 'ew, you like me?' type of manner, it was more of a 'oh my god, you like me? me!?' way.

he now has both of his hands cupping your face, thumbing along the corner of your lips and you're even warmer- or maybe it's just because he's drenched in rain water and you're only slightly damp.

"is there somethin' wrong with me for likin' you?"

and just like that, the tables turned. you're the one who's flustered and trying to explain yourself while he's just smug watching your panicked display with a grin.

"no! no, it's just- i'm...dumbfounded. i mean, i didn't really see it coming. are you...sure?"

he's more than 100% sure, but if you need some more convincing, he doesn't mind.

"want me to prove it to ya?"

his jaw's already nearing yours and a low timbre wedges in the tangle of his vocal chords, words sweet and curious.

his question was rhetorical- he knew you wanted him to, and your irises giving his lips a quick glance confirmed it.

"well? i'm waiting in the wings."

you give a slow nod, hands running up to the broadness of his shoulders before he dipped forward and...

the soft pout of your bottom lip met the cracked surface of his, and it couldn't have been more perfect, the trailing of your fingers rising through the soaked locks sticking to his skin. you're warm, really warm, and he doesn't want to let you go.

and suddenly he can breathe again, the tension compressed in his body releasing all at once, he, for one, finally feels free at the maddening press of your skin to his.

the faint taste of alcohol dances between you two, and your tongue gives a light swipe over his bottom lip in response to it, as if trying to get a better taste.

have you come from the abyssal sky above to grace him salvation? to save him from the endless pits of his own sin? to cut him apart with gentle hands, to dissect him with hushed promises of alleviating the burning ache in his chest?

because the warm cradle of your embrace sets his soul alight, and he's burning up like a dry weed catching the first sparks of summer's relentless rays.

it's been so long since he was last touched like this. since he's had someone to cradle, someone to hold, to kiss, to love.

he's been saved by you, and not in the biblical sense, no, he's damned no matter how you look at it. but he no longer feels lost, no longer yearning, craving something he thinks he can't have.

eventually, you have to pull away, his arms still slung over the dip of your back, and yours still around the nape of his neck.

"whaddya say? wanna be my partner in crime?"

you cringe, your nose scrunching in utter distaste at his title for you and you pitch a playful whack on his chest, a curl lingering on your lips.

"were you always this cheesy?"

he's about to respond with a teasing quip back, but then-

"ah-achoo!" his head pivots away from you and into the crease of his elbow, sneezing into his arm and he sniffles quietly.

"i uh, might have to take you up on that offer you proposed earlier?"

"see! i told you!"

----

hi teehee thanks for reading sorry this definitely sucks ass in some parts bc i rushed this last minute, lots of things here were just made up/headcanons about his character

i....i finished editing it....2000 words officially brought back from the dead...i couldn't have done it without the power of friendship ‼️

[z0mb13b1tez]

WHY IS THE KILLER CHAT FANDOM LITERALLY ALLERGIC TO HAPPINESS

I just wanna read a fanfic where ronin and i are happy and in love WHY IS THERE SO MUCH ANGST 💔💔💔💔

I love angst but cmon let me be happy </3

[riverintheunderworld]

may i request ronin and a transmasc mc? (i crave t4t content.)

YOU !! you remind me of my friend a lot ( loves ronin and LOVES LOVES mlm t4t content ) anyways !!

Ronin Beaufort x Transmasc MC

You had a lot of ambitions in life. Like, a lot. If your preditions were right, you we're gonna have a best -selling book by now, being loved by everyone -- at least, everyone who took the time to read thriller books about serial killers.

You didn't expect to be in a server full of them, and you would've never guessed that it would be one of the best things to happen to you.

Also, you definitely didn't expect to be dating one of them.

Ronin Beaufort.

A man who is in your bed in this very moment, tracing a finger over your chest -- and it's worth the binder on your chest used to be his own. It feels weird, but nice. You never had the luxury to buy one for yourself before.

His legs are tangled with yours, and you're almost cuddling, for fuck's sake.

Honestly, you feel like you're overheating. The AC is off, because the temperature is bearable when there isn't someone sharing his body heat with you.

"Why are you thinkin' so hard?" Ronin tilts his head, looking at you with that stupid grin of his. The one that you like a little too much.

"I don't know. It's hard not to think."

Ronin laughs again, like he's taking that as a personal challenge.

Unfortunately, you don't think it'll be all that hard for him to stop your thoughts completely. Even worse, it wouldn't be all that hard for the man to direct all your thoughts to himself.

With the way he's looking at you, it seems like he's also aware of that fact.

The hand tracing your chest starts to linger on your hair, playing with the ends of it.

It's barely been a week since you've cut it. Honestly, you can't even remember how it happened. The most you remember is that it was an ungodly hour, and that there was a very tired but willing Ronin cutting your hair over the bathroom sink.

You liked the way it looked.

It's a lot better than how it would've looked if you got it from the barber across the street. You might've still held a grudge on the one who worked on your hair -- he seemed to have a personal vendetta on you and cut it in the worst way possible.

But this? This was nice. You looked in the mirror and actually... felt good with what you saw.

It still felt weird that Ronin Beaufort, the serial killer who you thought saw you as nothing but a playtoy, was the one who willingly helped with all of this.

Very weird.

"I like the way this looks on ya," he murmurs, and you would almost think he's going soft with the way his face holds a gentle expression. "-so handsome."

"I could say the same for you." You could hear your smile in your voice.

When did you start smiling? You didn't know, and you couldn't really stop. Even when you tried.

Ronin, praise the man, starts scratching your scalp. You could honestly fall asleep like this. You will fall asleep like this, actually.

You allow yourself to close your eyes, letting out a soft sigh as his hands work on your head.

After a while, you feel yourself slipping even more, but you force yourself to open your eyes. You want to... well, you're not exactly sure. But your body starts moving on its own, and it's not really in your top priorities to try to stop it.

Without even thinking, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours.

Ronin stays still, looking at you with a raised brow, and you wonder if you finally caught him off guard.

You place his hand close to your face, and you give it a kiss as you look back into those eyes.

Ronin's eyes flicker away for one second, and you feel his fingers twitch.

There's a bit of comfort about the fact that you can ruin him as much as he's ruined you.

You place another kiss.

A/N: HI HI AUTHOR RIVS HERE I HOPE U LIKED THIS!!! sorry if this isn't what u were looking for anon but u can always send in another ask :3 SEND ME THOUSANDS IF YOU'D LIKE!! because i would definitely like that!!!

anyways watch me play killer chat again.. i miss my gays (and im also distracting myself from the fact that im like 1 dollar short for the adwd dlc that i want to buyyy </3 sighh time to finish comms)

ANYWAYS ENOUGH RAMBLING i love u whoevers reading this mwuah mwuahh

[6feathered6siren6]

Dating the chaotic duo(Misaki x Ronin x Reader)

Trigger warning

Death/killing

Gore

A lot of Fluff(My friend said this was rotten sweet fluff)

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Asking anyone, is dating a killer dangerous? Depending on the person, there were multiple responses. 

Yes, they killed someone, they could kill you at any time

Depends on why they killed someone

If you love them, sure, but don’t drag anyone into the messy drama after

From your best friend, they gave the response, “You need to stop being attracted to red flags. And no, do not date any killers. You are only gonna get yourself killed.” And did you ignore them? Yes, yes you did. Twice in fact. Dating the Devil’s butcher and an assassin. How wrong could your best friend be? 

Very wrong, apparently.

ཐི♡ཋྀ

Example 1: 

It was you and Misaki up in your apartment, both of you had that giddy, stupidly in love smile. Your foreheads were touched with that sweet laughter from Misaki. Sure, it was weird that just about an hour ago, she killed someone. But smaller details, huh?

“I can’t believe that I’m holding you, that you are in my arms right now. God, I'm sooo gonna annoy you for a long, long time. Well, until I have to go back, but I will definitely get a visa and-”

You interrupted her with a kiss on her lips. “Let’s leave the planning for later, for now, I just want to savor this moment with you.”

“Right, right. I am so gonna cuddle you for so long, you won’t escape from me,” She holded a smile that screamed havoc. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Example 2:

It was pouring outside, and you were in your living room, typing away on your laptop. You were sipping away from your drink, when you heard your door unlock and the door open. Hearing it close and a slop sound. You look over at the door to see a drenched Ronin. To you, he looked like a wet cat to you. 

You snickered out, with a reaction of a glare from him. “Not gonna help me, Darlin’?” 

“Nope, it seems you got it, Ronin.” You looked back to your laptop. Getting back into your thought process to only feel a cold, wet arm around your neck, moving you back. You screeched as you felt your back get wetter by the moment. Nor longer warm, you shrieked with Ronin chuckling now. “Wanne help out now?”

“Yes, yes. God, you are co-ld. Please, mercy.” You yelled out. He was cold like a corpse to you. He was laughing at your pain as he stayed close to you, getting your clothes even more wet.

“Nah, since you wanna be mean, I’ll let you suffer, since you want me to suffer.” You were scrambling to get away from him and his coldness, but it was Ronin. He was stronger than you, so leaving little to no possibility to get out on your own.

“Alright, alright, I’ll help! Ple-ease! You are cold!” You screamed out, and finally taking your answer, he lets you go. You felt your now somewhat drenched shirt, you wanted to change. You glared up at him. “Asshole.”

“Oh, so you wanna still wanna suffer then?” He looked down with mischief. 

“No, nope. I’m good.” You got up from the couch, pulling the back off your shirt further away from your back. “Now, go take a shower, and warm up. Geez, it felt like you were a corpse.” He leans with a smile. “No. Go take a shower. I’m sure I still have some of your pjs somewhere.” 

As you were about to start walking off, Ronin pulled you into a kiss. “Truth or dare after I shower?” 

You sighed, as you looked up at him. “Fine. Only if we can cuddle later.”

“Such a demanding Darlin’.”

‧₊˚ ⋅  𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Example 3: 

For some reason, all three of you decided to have dinner at your place. So after a whole grocery adventure, leading to Misaki wanting to grab instant noodles or candy, or Ronin wanting to grab food not even related to the dinner, the three of you agreed. To say the least, you were the only one on task. Thankfully. 

As the bags were sent down onto the counter, you guys agreed to have breakfast for dinner. Waffles, eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, juice, and some fruit. It was your request from the magic hat of choosing, or at least an online wheel you guys made a month ago since all of you couldn’t decide. 

“So, who wants what job?” You offered as you started pulling things out of the bags. 

“I’ll take cutting things, you both know I’m good with that.” Ronin said he sat on one of the island chairs, leaning on his elbow on the counter. Misaki was jumping in excitement at that thought, you knew he was good by the pictures from the server. 

Sighing out, “Fine, just don’t cut yourself.” You grabbed one of your knives and handed it to him. “So you got cutting fruit and a job I’m giving you is also making the waffles. Then Misaki?”

“Oo, oo, oo. I can make the batter! And toast the bread!” She was pulling out the flour, sugar, baking soda, and the loaf of bread. 

“Then that leaves me to make the bacon and eggs. I’m sure nothing will go wrong.” 

You just had to jinx it, did you?

All three of you got flour all over yourselves. Misaki threw flour at Ronin for something you didn’t really hear since you were paying attention to the eggs. And they were having a flour fight, and Ronin, being himself, invited you to the fight. By throwing flour at you. 

By the time the breakfast was done, you three were covered in flour and waffle batter(Ronin did that one as well). 

“You look darling as a ghost. Both of you do.” Ronin was the least amount covered, which ticked you off. He was the first to throw things at you specifically. How is this taller bastard less covered than you and Misaki? 

You looked at Misaki as she looked back at you, both of you had that glint. Misaki opened her arms a little, and you nod. As Ronin turned away, the both of you hugged the male, making him cover into a mess as well. 

“Didn’t want you to miss out, Ronin.” You sweetly said to him. He looked down at both of you. 

“Come on, Ronin, get as messy as us.” Then pause. “Wait… that sounded way too wrong.” You see their faces explode into red. Laughing at their embarrassment, you felt Ronin put a hand on your hand as well as Misaki’s head. 

“As messy as I like it, I wanna change, plus, it’s my turn to pick the movie we are watching.” You loosen your grip to look at him, almost like you were in danger. 

“No…” You softly said, feeling the dread come in. Misaki, who also understood what he was gonna mention. 

“Yes, since both of you made me watch Heathers, and kept comparing me to JD. I’m so gonna make you watch it.” He said, his voice was deeply like venom.

⋆

The movie? Was kinda meh in your opinion, but only because you grossed out by some of the overly bloody murder scenes. And you had both killers pointing out the misinformation of the movie.

Example 4: 

All three of you were in bed, Misaki was in the middle, Ronin was on the left, and you were on the right. The window was close to you, shining light over the three of you. You woke up after a harsh dream, so you were just watching the three sleep. 

As much as you try to make fun of Ronin, saying he snored, was a lie. He was quiet, and the moment he fell asleep, he acted like he’s dead. Barely moving except for his breathing. Misaki was holding you like their own personal teddy bear. She moves slightly but not too harshly. You move some of her hair away from their face. 

The smile on your face was soft and light. It was a truly happy, quiet moment between the three. Ronin and Misaki are quite loud when hyper, but who can say? You also indulge into their acts of tomfoolery. You savored this moment until you felt a hand on your cheek. 

“What’s rattling in that head of yours?” Ronin was awake. His voice sounded deeper and quiet. Mostly not to wake the person in between them. 

“Just a bad dream. Nothing to worry about.” You felt his thumb move on your cheek. Soothing your nerves, he just raitated calmness and love into his touch. “Promise.”

“If there was nothing to worry about, you would still be asleep than awake in the witchen hours.” He grunted out. You felt his dark eyes on you. 

“Just a dumb nightmare, I’ll be fine, now why are you up?” You finally look at him in his eyes. 

“Dunno, just woke up. Might be because you are awake.” 

“Ahh.” You felt his hand move up to play with your hair. 

“Why are we awake? It’s like so fuckin’ early.” Misaki grunted out into your arms. They shifted into your arms, like they were trying to get further into you. 

“Well, Darlin’ woke up from a grotesque dream, not spilling their lips. A shame.”

“Rrreeaadderrr… Come on.” She looks up at you. “We are here to support you, we are your partners, after all.” 

“I know, I know. Just this dream is a bit different. Let me have a moment with it.” The dream was both of them trying to kill you, you knew it was a small chance to have that actually happen. But… You didn’t want them to know. To know that you somewhat still fear them.

“Well, whatever it is, must be dumb. Now please, it is really too early to be awake, and I want to see what carnival fair is in person.” That’s right, it must have slipped your mind. You and Ronin wanted to show a fair to Misaki. You just wanted to be cliche into the ferris wheel. 

You kissed her forehead. “Alright, alright.” You see them fall asleep, leaving both you and Ronin away. You look up at him in the nightly light from your window. You felt his hand leave your head and see it pull both you and Misaki closer to him. 

“You got both killers near you. If there’s a danger, you know I would bash them, and Misaki would kill it with their rifle. Now go back to bed, I don’t want to see a peeved Reader, because you didn’t get enough sleep tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead, and laid his arm around you and Misaki.

You had sweet dreams after that.

Example 5:

Sometimes, you forget you literally date killers. After all the sweet moments, it puts red tinted glasses on your nose. 

It’s past midnight, and both Misaki and Ronin decided to go out in the alleyways. The carnival fair was great, you and Ronin got Misaki a gift, and she won prizes at the shooting games. Which you kept saying being an assassin is cheating. Minor points aside. Ronin is in the mood to kill someone, Misaki is for the thrill, meanwhile, you just want to go home. But, you didn’t want to be left out, and just alone, afterall, it is a date.

You were sitting on the boxes in Ronin’s alley, watching him and Misaki talk. You look back on memories you had with the two of them, they’re sweet to you in their own ways. You look at your hands, wondering how far this is gonna go. And hopefully, a very long time. 

CRACK

You look over to see Ronin split someone head open. You could see the poor soul’s head open. But you can also see who it was, it was some hotshot ceo. Apparently from the rumors you get from your journalism job, you heard that he was an asshole, flirted with any woman near him, and cheated constantly on his girlfriend. His girlfriend was also abused by him, stealing her money for his company. Well, luckily for her, he’s dead. 

Misaki startled you by sitting next to you, and she snickered at you jumping. You shoved their shoulders as Ronin started talking. 

“So what message should be sent this time? Pentagram?” 

Jumping in her seat, “Oo, oo, oo! What about something romantic, finish the night strong!” 

Ronin looks up with a grin, humming from contemplation. “Reader, what do you think?” 

You thought for a moment. “What about his aorta?”

Ronin stared at you for a moment before walking over and holding a knife to you. “How about you carve it for me, Darlin’?”

Right.. That promise you made when you were flirting with him before. You cringed at the thought, but sighed. A promise is a promise. You took the knife and walked over with him. Misaki was watching you. 

You slowly do the process, luckily Ronin has told you how to do it when you were writing your novel. If you make a mistake Ronin would just either let you fail or just correct you. If you weren’t literally carving out someone’s heart, it would be another sweet blissful date. 

After a quite messy and bloody moment, you had the asshole’s heart in your hand. You hand it into Ronin with both hands. 

“It’s not my own heart, but… an offering ‘till then.” You said with a smile, it was sweet and loving, his grin was plastered on his face. Misaki was near Ronin, looking at it. 

“I can’t believe you collect these, Ronin. Instead of the tooth fairy, you could be a body collector. ‘Gotta make my own makeshift body’. Frankenstein kinnie.” Which made you snort, not expecting that. 

“You mean the doctor who made him, hot stuff. We might have to watch it if you didn’t know.” Ronin said. 

“When it’s your turn, Ronin. I have next pick.” You said starting to walk to your place once again. Of course to change and cuddle. After all, it was the last night Misaki would be here. They have to go back to Japan again.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

I feel like I didn't write Misaki as much but I will want to expand the poly couple. And yes, I wrote this for me and purely for me. Love the duo. Anyway, it is late for me, I'm gonna pass out, this will be posted on ao3 when I get the moment to.

Words: 2,365

[gdragonsideburns]

finally finished my ronin beaufort x reader smut lmao. it's on ao3, nowhere else. heres the link.

its 12k words long, has both a transmasc & ver and a they/them pussy ver, and is ENTIRELY disturbing and gross! (best kind of porn imo). THIS IS DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT CONTENT. READ THE TAGS OR CONTENT WARNING IN NOTES. DO NOT READ IT IF YOU AREN'T OKAY WITH THE THINGS LISTED THERE.

it's my first time posting porn lmao lmk what yall think of it

FORGOT TO SAY: MINORS PLEASE DNI, CANT CONTROL WHAT U READ BUT IT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE WHEN YOU COMMENT ON MY TUMBLR AS I AM AN ADULT. Ty for respecting my boundaries.

[vandme12]

heyy! i love your writing!! how about headcanons about the reader Ronin trying to make him jealous on purpose? like, the reader talking to and spending time with some other guy more than with Ronin. hope this makes sense! ❤️

Ronin Beaufort isn’t the jealous type—jealousy is for people who lose, and he doesn’t lose. If you think flirting with some other guy will rattle him, you’re adorable. He’ll watch you play your little game, leaning back like a king on a cracked throne, waiting for you to crawl home. And you will crawl home.

He makes a show of it. Mock-pouting, hand over his heart like you’ve wounded him. "Damn, babe, didn’t know I was on a break. You auditioning replacements, or just tryna make me work harder?" His words drip sweet, all honey and venom—but underneath? He’s laughing at you. Sweetheart, there’s no other option. It’s always gonna be him.

If you’re hell-bent on pushing his buttons, he’ll let you—but don’t expect to get away clean. He’ll play it cool, act unfazed, and then? Oh, he’ll take you apart later. Slowly. With his hands. With his mouth. Until you forget what other people’s names even sound like.

. You spend too much time around another guy? Cute. Ronin’s first move isn’t jealousy—it’s possession. He’ll drape himself over you like a leather jacket no one else is allowed to touch. Casual as a knife to the throat. "Miss me yet, or should I leave you two lovebirds to it?"

He never says, Don’t touch what’s mine. No. That’s too easy. Instead? He gets creative. Whispered secrets in your ear just loud enough for your little “friend” to hear. A sharp-toothed grin when he pulls you into his lap mid-conversation. He doesn’t need to say he owns you—he makes it obvious.

You want to make him sweat? Good luck, baby. He’ll turn it back on you without missing a beat. Flirt with someone else, and he’s suddenly the sweetest, most devoted boyfriend in the world—to someone else. He doesn’t play fair, and if you want war, he’s more than happy to escalate.

In private, though? Different story. If you push too far, too long—oh, sweetheart. You’ll feel it. All that mock-jealousy turns sharp-edged when no one else is looking. His teeth on your skin, his voice in your ear. "Wanted my attention so bad, huh? Got it now, Darlin."

Don’t mistake his calm for indifference. If he’s quiet? If he stops playing? You’re in trouble. Real, delicious trouble. It means he’s thinking. About how to remind you exactly who you belong to—and Ronin never does anything halfway.

He’s a menace. If you ignore him for someone else, he’ll find ways to make sure you can’t stop thinking about him. Sending you a bloody smiley face mid-conversation. Texting you, “What’s he got that I don’t? (Besides a pulse)”—just to watch you react <33

At the end of the day? He isn’t worried. Why would he be? He’s already under your skin. You could talk to anyone you want—you’ll still dream of him. And when you finally come back? He’s there. Waiting. Smirking. Ready to ruin you all over again.

[spiderlilywritings]

Ronin Beaufort Boyfriend Headcanons

Trigger Warnings: mentions of blood, murder, gore

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ronin pulls you closer.

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

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

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

Ther's gone.

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

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

How's that for blasphemy?

[puzzledprose]

I would love more Ronin nsfw if you have the time. I desire him carnally.

I apologise for this freak-fest I have revealed far too much about my tastes in this but it is far too late to go back now. Let’s just hope you match my freak ♥️😼

Ronin NSFW for the 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀𝓈

Minors please DNI

Okay so jumping right off into the deep end with some nasty shit.

I know I’ve said this before but knife play 🤤. Ronin probably likes scaring you a little. He says it’s “more intimate that way”. This usually involves him (consensually) bringing out his trusty pocket knife. Ronin would never want to give you any permanent scarring, for all the grotesque and filth he represents even he would never stoop that low. He definitely likes the idea of marking you up. Small inconsequential cuts in places people wouldn’t notice usually. Probably also carves in some on-brand satanic symbols too. It’s like he’s claimed you properly now.

“Look at you, all blissed out and bleeding for me.”

The more you like it the more he does. The idea of you hating what he gives you is deeply unappealing. What’s the fun in insanity of it isn’t mutual!?

On a similar note Ronin’s sexual energy triples after a murder. The adrenaline is pumping through his body and that buzzing behind his eyes send him to heaven.

Definitely has a fantasy about fucking you in purgatory. Having you pushed right up against a blood splattered wall while he’s knuckle deep inside you, watching as you eyes roll back. Sounds perfect.

Also this man has a tongue piercing, aka THE SLUTTIEST THING A MAN CAN DO!!! So you just KNOW his head game is like none other. The cool feeling of the metal has you cumming in MINUTES!!!

Sexual blasphemy!?!?! Any mention of god will be met with something like “no god here darlin’, just me.”

Sorry if this is a little all over the place it was just a bit of a very horny brain dump! Needless to say I love this absolute case study of a human ♥️

[dumjokes]

RONIN BEAUFORT X READER

||ONE-SHOT||

in his POV, They/them pronouns are used!

Ronin beaufort was a simple man, he worked, murdered people, went home, dreamed about murder, and being with his Darlin'. And oh how much he loved corrupting his darling y/n, from the writer they were to what he made them to be.

"Writer Darlin'~" He coo's into their ear before standing straight his height towering over them. 

"Good job, I didn't think you had it in you!" he praises, looking at the body they just killed, their weapon covered in blood, gore and everything nice, At least in Ronin's eyes.

"I didn't think I had it in me either..." They say, obviously shocked at what they've done, their eyes wide and their mouth agape almost in terror of what they've done.

 "I just killed someone." They murmured, still in shock. "Yes you did, Darling! Haha! Congratulations on your first murder!" He says happily laughing like they just did something hilarious.

"I never thought I'd do that!" They whisper shout, obviously still in shock. They were normal, before he'd found them, gave them love and affection. And this is what they'd do for love. "I know Darlin', you can do some devilish things sometimes!" He teases, enjoying their shock.

"It's only because of the devil himself is helping me!" They tease back, poking him in the stomach with a finger, causing him to laugh. 

"Haha! This wasn't me darling, this was all you." He says, gesturing at the fresh body playfully.

"Yeah, yeah, but you're the one that told me to~" they coo, grabbing his jacket and pulling him to their height for a sweet forehead kiss.

 "I told you to but I didn't think you'd actually do it!" He snickers, leaning into their loving touch before standing up straight.

He wraps his hands on their waist and bends down, crashing his lips onto theirs for a kiss, before pulling away. "let's go writer Darlin' let's make our getaway." He teases again, his arm around their shoulders, guiding them away from the body and back to the safe haven they called home.

 They were his newly murderous writer Darlin', his fallen angel and he was ecstatic about it, oh how happy he was that he helped his angel fall from grace.

[aurmisery]

guys trust ill have a better track record than just ONE FANFIC PER MONTH !!!! yea...

anyway!

[melodyy-mel]

Killer chat - Ronin,Misaki,Angel, and V Icons

These icons are based on / are characters from Killer Chat it's a really interesting game you should check out on itch.io !! And a little Birdy told me there might be a Christmas dlc soon !!!

The art is by a_sakanya please correct me if I'm wrong

And I wish you all a happy new year !!!

(I wanted to do banners but I'm tired and lazy ... )

[npookie0]

A Day To Celebrate.

Ronin x reader scenario, reader's birthday with their partner, fluff, cutsy, maybe some swears and spoilers for the route.

Wish me a happy birthday in the comments, wouldja darlin'? On Feb 3rd your fav lil writer blessed this earthly vale with their presence.

Ronin Beaufort - The Devil.

"Ronin, it's three in the morning. Why the fuck are calling me now?!" You murmured to your phone, or rather to the person on the other side of a call that woke you up.

Ronin, your boyfriend and the most annoying bastard known to mankind, called you out of nowhere and very rudely woke you up.

Seriously, can't you even sleep on your own birthday? Right. It's your birthday, one year closer to death, or however your edgy boyfriend would call it. You wanted to have a good night's sleep for once in the three hundred sixty five days the year offered you, but yet again, someone can't let you have this moment of peace.

"Awh, did I wake you up, writer darlin'? Tsktsk, well too bad. We're heading out, I'm at your door so chop chop." What. No way, no way he wasn't serious...

You jumped out of your bed, practically ran to your window and looked out of it. There he was. Bathed in shadows and darkness, his signature beanie with red horns on his head, phone to his ear while he was looking at your bedroom window. You could swear that he had that shit eating grin glued to his face even tho you couldn't see him clearly.

"What are you doing at my door at three in the morning?" You didn't know if you were more annoyed at him, or at the stupid butterflies in your stomach that were trying to tear your flesh apart from inside.

His chuckle filled your ears and you knew that you were already lost in his game. "It's a surprise love, don't worry, I'm sure you'll like it. Just get yourself all dolled up, but don't take too long. It would be a shame if I had to break down your door."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The call has ended and you were left staring at him through your window. Fucking Beaufort! Always meddling in and knowing that you will always agree to everything. Maybe it's his rot influencing you, or maybe you're just so fucked up on your own, you didn't know - even though you chose to give yourself the benefit of the doubt and went with the former.

You left your house, greeted by a whistle and cup of coffee being placed in your hand. You looked at Ronin who was looking you up and down, satisfied with the view.

"Well, well, what an eye candy you are, truly a lil piece of art." He complimented you and kissed your forehead.

"Oh please, cut the compliments. Why are you waking me up at this ungodly hour." He snickered at your comments. Ungodly. A word perfectly fitting the antichrist. Sometimes you wondered how much of this devil-may-care attitude was really just his way of adapting to being made the devil in his childhood and how much of it was truly him.

"Oh, don't be like that darling." He gave you a pout and snickered when you punched his shoulder. "Feisty, just how I like you."

"Beaufort " You gave him a warning stare.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell ya." Ronin put his arms up in a defeated way. "I'm taking you out, 's your birthday and I, as the most devilishly amazing boyfriend you could ever ask for, have a little something for you." If it wasn't for his high ego and the late hour you would smile and call him sweet, but you can't give him that compliment when your body still desperately needs sleep.

"So, this plan of yours couldn't wait for the sun to be out?" You raised your eyebrow and sipped the coffee he gave you, at least something to keep you awake.

"Nah, it has to be now or the gift wouldn't be as exquisite as it is. And trust me, once you see it, you'll be thanking me for waking you up "

You rolled your eyes but with a small smile you took his outstretched hand. "Alright then Romeo, lead the way." You said jokingly.

"Awh sorry to disappoint you, love, but we're not dying at the end. You have to put the poison away for now, Juliet." What a romantic thing to say, especially when it's coming from a serial killer.

Finally after a long motorcycle drive the two of you arrived at a place you never seen before. Well, you couldn't exactly see anything now either, there were no street lights, just you two and the moon looming over the whole damn place, romantic and dangerous at the same time, just like your favourite serial killer.

"So you wanted to show me complete darkness? That's such a nice birthday surprise Ro, really." You said with a sarcastically sweet voice.

"And I thought you were the smartie, sweetheart." He pinched your cheek. "Obviously there's something more, come on." He took you by the hand and started walking, pulling you behind.

While you were walking you felt tall grass and flowers rubbing against your legs, you were obviously going through a narrow path because Ronin had to go in front of you. Your eyes were slowly adjusting to the surroundings, you could see an outline of flowers, they were white that's all you could tell so far.

Finally, after a short walk, you could see a weak light on the ground in the distance, something like an electric lantern. Your curiosity grew stronger with every second. What could Ronin possibly prepare for you? A dead body came to mind first, probably one with its heart cut out and some romantic meaning behind the "art piece". It's not like you wouldn't appreciate it, it's a gift... A very peculiar one at that.

"Are ya ready?" He asked, his voice a little shaky, like he's stressed by this gift he was about to give you. Somehow it made you more excited. If it caused Ronin to be so concerned, then it had to come from his heart even if he would play it off as being nonchalant later.

"Well you did wake me up at three in the morning and rode me here for an hour, so yeah, I'm ready Ronin." Your remark about the journey was light-hearted, you wanted to calm him down a little.

"Hah, you're damn right." With a more relaxed voice he took a few final steps and you could see the gift he has prepared.

"No dead bodies? What a shame, Butcher." You teased him and looked around.

In front of you there was a lantern, lighting up a small circle that you and him were standing in. You could get a better look at your surroundings now. You were standing in a meadow.... A meadow full of white lilies. It was mesmerising, the flowers bathed in the weak light.

"'s not the main part of the gift, but..." Ronin's hushed voice came from behind you, and his hand pushed your head up. "Look up, darlin'." You did as he told you to and...

Oh gods the view was just perfect. A sunrise in the horizon, weakly lighting up the world, making the white flowers pop even more. You were just mesmerised by this.

"Ronin this is..."

"Worth waking up so early?" He finished your sentence jokingly.

"I was about to say beautiful but sure, have it your way, idiot." You elbowed him and scoffed. "So what's the main gift?" You looked at him now, he was holding something behind his back.

His eyes were locked on yours, the dark void trapping you in itself like destruction.

"I've got something, it's... I made this." His voice was rushed when he handed you a box.

It was small, not bigger than a jewelry box. You were curious, especially since he said it was handmade. You slowly lifted the lid and the thing you saw inside made your heart stop for a second.

Inside was a thin chain with a pendant, the pendant was a small skull with a lily in one of its eyes. You moved it between your fingers, at the skull's back there was an engraved letter "R" symbolising him.

"... It's not the best thing I've made but uh I tried." You looked up from the gift, Ronin wasn't even looking at you. He was shy? Or maybe embarrassed? He was kinda cute like this....

You didn't know what to say, no words would describe the happiness his gift gave you. So instead of saying anything you pulled him into a tight hug.

"Ronin, thank you. This means so much to me, I'll never take this off." You whispered, clenching the necklace in your hand.

"Hah, I told ya that you'd like it." Oh, and the nonchalant asshole is back.

You were smiling the whole way home, sometimes raising your hand to the pendant just to feel it again. And to think that this small gift would make you so happy....

It was truly a magical beginning of a birthday full of surprises for you.

I'm so happy to be able to share my birthday with all my amazing readers 🫶 I love you all

- N

(await more fics now because I'll get a laptop (hopefully!!!) and I have super great plans for my future writings and maybe a lil special piece I'm working on with someone 👀)