#ronin beaufort x reader

[elysiaheaven2]

𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗚𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘- 𝗥𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗻 𝘅 𝗚.𝗡 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 (Part 2) end!

Used to be on @elysiaheaven

This is the request!!

02: SO MUCH FOR THE TOLERANT LEFT

Words:4000

Genre: Red Room Reader (G.N) Gore

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

This happens before you meet Ronin! (Basically

Trigger Warnings:

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

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

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

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

Blood: Intense, graphic descriptions of bloodshed.

Trauma: Psychological and physical trauma inflicted on the victim.

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

Death (explicit deaths with violent descriptions)

Torture (including the use of tools and sadistic behavior)

Psychological Manipulation (character dynamics that involve power and control)

Content Warnings:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Physical Harm (depictions of severe bodily injury, bruising, and broken bones)

Blood and Injury (detailed accounts of blood, wounds, and brutal attacks)

Blood Loss and Dismemberment (specific references to body mutilation, such as the use of crowbars and knives for dismemberment)

Psychological Control and Trauma (psychological torment and manipulation, including the fear of death, taunting, and intimidation)

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

⟡ The show must go on

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

Ronin sat hunched over his computer, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. His fingers hovered over the keys, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to word it. How could he explain what was happening inside of him? This giddy feeling, this knot that tightened in his chest when he thought about Angel. He felt so... out of control, and he hated it. His mind was swirling with a mess of emotions, and the only thing that seemed clear was that something was happening that he couldn’t fix.

He stared at his message, his thoughts racing. His thumb finally pressed the keys.

Ronin: Angel, I need help. My heart is like... giddy? What the hell is this? It feels like I’m gonna burst. I feel so shit right now. I don’t know what’s going on inside of me, but it’s ugly. I just want to rip out my aorta and wash it but I don’t even want to do that? Wtf is wrong with me?!

He hit send and immediately felt a wave of frustration flood through him. Why couldn’t he explain himself better? It was like his insides were fighting each other, wanting something they couldn’t have. His heart, a traitor, racing when Angel even looked his way, and yet, he was ashamed of it. What was he supposed to do with all these feelings?

Angel didn’t take long to reply, their message popping up with an almost teasing wink emoji. Ronin stared at it for a moment, his pulse quickening.

Angelicc: “What the hell are they fixing you, Ronin?”

That response hit him like a bolt of lightning, igniting something deep inside him. His mind, once clouded, suddenly cleared, and he smirked.

goreboy: *Why would you care? he texts back with a playful yet taunting tone. It’s not like you could handle me if you tried, Angel.

There. He’d done it. Ronin’s fingers tapped out the last bit of the message, the little bit of frustration that had been building finally manifesting in this teasing banter. But beneath it all, his mind screamed for some kind of resolution—anything to make the knot in his chest loosen.

Angelic: God, please give me the energy to shoot you, Ronin You're so...

Ronin leaned back in his chair, phone still in hand, when the familiar ping of a notification pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. His sharp eyes glanced at the screen. The message was from the streamer.

His lips curled into an intrigued grin as he clicked it open.

Streamer: Got the guy you were talking about. Stream starts at 9 PM. Gonna be a good one.

Ronin's grin widened as he read it, his mind briefly flicking back to their conversation about the so-called "big bad" that had captured his interest. They’d actually found the guy. This was going to be fun. He couldn't wait to see how they handled it.

"Guess they’ve got a little flair for drama after all," he muttered, tossing his phone onto the desk for a moment.

But the thought lingered—there was something about this streamer that felt familiar, like a puzzle piece he hadn’t quite placed yet. They were sharp, clever, and knew just the right things to say to keep him hooked. Almost... too much like someone he already knew.

A part of him toyed with the idea, but no. That would be too wild, wouldn’t it?

Picking up his phone again, he typed out a quick message:

goreboy: Rest up, yeah? The guy’s caught, so your job’s done. You should sleep well.

He hovered over the send button for a moment, noticing your status was offline. With a sigh, he hit send anyway.

"Offline, huh?" he murmured, leaning back and letting his head tip against the chair’s edge. "Figures."

He stared at the empty room, the soft glow of the phone screen lighting his face. His heart, usually so calm and guarded, ached faintly.

It wasn’t a bad ache, though. It was warm.

"You really got me wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?" he whispered to the empty space.

Ronin closed his eyes, letting the weight of the realization sink in. He really loved you, didn’t he? His heart, as much as he hated to admit it, wasn’t lying.

The clock hit 9 PM, the moment you had been waiting for. Your heart raced in anticipation as you adjusted your mask, staring at the reflection in your screen. You were ready. Tonight’s stream would be one for the books.

The camera flicked on, and there you were, in full glory—your usual enigmatic persona, concealed behind the mask, your voice a controlled calm with just the right edge of menace.

On the other side of the screen, the man they’d just captured was already cursing, his voice a mixture of panic and fury. His words were a desperate mess of threats, accusations, and confusion, but you couldn’t help but smile at the chaos. It felt so… right. So deliciously satisfying.

You leaned forward, fingers expertly typing on the keyboard, your voice sharp as you addressed him.

“Quiet down, you filthy coward,” you said, your voice cold yet somehow amused, the words slipping from your lips effortlessly. “You’re not in control anymore. The world you once ruled is crumbling around you, and you're nothing but a puppet with its strings cut.”

You could practically hear his jaw clenching. The man had thought he was invincible, and now he was nothing more than prey in your game. And you? You were the hunter, enjoying every moment of it.

"Why don’t you shut your damn mouth and listen?" you continued, raising your hand dramatically, the camera capturing every movement. "Your sins have caught up with you. You think you can get away with everything, but tonight, you’re going to pay for all of it. I’m not just going to show you your fate—I’m going to make you feel it."

The man’s curses grew more frantic as he struggled against his restraints, but you didn’t care. You kept your focus, savoring each word you spoke, each moment of this twisted satisfaction. This was your show. You had the power, and you weren’t letting go.

"Stop squirming, it’s pointless," you added, voice dripping with mockery. "You wanted attention, and now you have it. Just sit tight, the real fun’s about to begin.”

As the stream began to settle into its rhythm, you leaned forward, gazing into the camera with that unsettling calm. The chat was flooded with messages, and your viewers were eager, waiting for the night’s show to unfold. Among the sea of usernames, you saw it—a familiar one. Goreboy69.

It barely registered among all the chaos of names scrolling by. But then it clicked—that name, those letters, the symbol of chaos that you’d recognized. You looked at it again, eyes widening for a split second. It was him.

Ronin.

The realization hit you like a jolt of electricity through your veins. He was here. Watching. Your Ronin.

You swallowed back a lump in your throat but quickly regained your composure, the same sinister smile curling onto your lips. This was your moment. Your game. The perfect twist.

"Welcome, everyone," you said smoothly, your voice smooth and warm like honey, as if everything was perfectly normal. You glanced at the chat again, giving a special nod to the man in question. "And of course, a very special welcome to... Goreboy69. You know who you are."

You let the words linger in the air, giving him a playful wink, even though you knew he couldn’t see it. The chat lit up with confusion and excitement, the viewers unknowingly swept up in the tension of the moment.

"Tonight, we’ve got someone truly special for you all," you continued, turning to the restrained man at the center of the stream. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. But it was too late for him to do anything about it. You controlled the narrative, and he was just another pawn in your sick little game.

"Tonight's special victim has done unspeakable things," you said, slowly pacing in front of the camera, giving the chat time to catch up. "You know, he’s not just some run-of-the-mill criminal. Oh no... this one has a special kind of depravity."

The man on the screen struggled, his curses muffled by the gag in his mouth, but you weren’t interested in his weak protests. Instead, you leaned in closer to the camera, your voice dropping to a low, almost playful tone.

"You see, this lovely gentleman has stolen millions, ruined lives, and even killed—oh, the things he’s done. And tonight... well... tonight, I think he’s going to pay for them all."

You paused for a moment, savoring the tension in the air. You felt it, the rush of power. This was what you lived for.

As you started detailing his crimes, your voice began to shake with barely contained laughter. You couldn’t hold it in any longer, the absurdity of his actions tickling your sense of humor in a twisted way.

"And the best part?" you said, smirking as you bent down toward the man, your hand barely brushing against his face. "He thought he could get away with it. Thought he was untouchable."

You stood back up, chuckling darkly as the chat roared with excitement. "Well, tonight’s the night he gets to learn the hard way... that no one is untouchable."

The man struggled against his restraints, his face turning pale as you recounted his heinous acts—how he had killed people in cold blood, how he’d abused his power, how he'd ruined countless lives without a second thought. You could barely keep your laughter contained as you continued.

"Look at him squirm," you mocked. "Isn’t it just hilarious? All his bravado crumbling in seconds. You should've seen the look on his face when he realized who really has the power now."

Your laughter bubbled up again as the man began to choke on his words, his breathing shallow from both fear and the gag, but it didn’t matter. You were in control now. Every moment of his suffering was a triumph, and you knew he couldn’t escape it.

"Isn’t it just beautiful?" you murmured, gazing at the screen with twisted satisfaction. "Justice... and so much more."

You let the man suffer in silence for a moment, savoring the absolute control you had over him. And as you glanced again at Goreboy69's name, your heart raced with a mix of excitement and curiosity. Was Ronin watching? Yes you idoit!

You couldn’t wait to find out.

You leaned over the bound man, your smile never fading as you tilted your head, eyes gleaming with sick delight. His terror was palpable, a fragile thing he clung to in a desperate bid to escape, but there was no escape for him. Not here. Not with you.

You taunted him, your voice dripping with mock sympathy as you circled him slowly. "Tell me," you whispered softly, leaning down to his ear as he trembled, "How could you kill her? Your wife. The one you swore to protect, to love. How did you bring yourself to do that?" You let the words linger, his eyes wide, filled with dread. He was barely holding himself together, but his body was still betraying him with every ragged breath.

Without waiting for an answer, you swiftly grabbed a knife, its cold edge gleaming under the dim light, and drove it into the muscle of his arm, the blade sinking deep with an almost sickening ease.

His scream echoed, muffled by the gag, but the sound of it was pure, raw emotion—the kind that only came when a man realized how powerless he truly was. Tears sprang to his eyes, his body writhing against the restraints as he sobbed.

And it was there, in that moment of utter defeat, that you felt the thrill deep within you. You loved this. You loved the power, the control, the rush of watching someone break in front of you. It made everything feel real, alive.

You straightened, taking a step back, your eyes still fixed on his broken form. You were about to speak again, but then... you noticed something in the chat.

There it was again—Goreboy69—that username flashing across your screen. You grinned, recognizing the familiar pattern of messages, but this time, there was something more.

He wasn’t just watching. He was engaged. You clicked on the notification, reading the latest message from him:

"Do it. Make him feel it. Don't hold back."

Your heart skipped a beat. He... wanted you to go further. He was encouraging it. Your grin widened as a wild idea bubbled to the surface.

Ronin. Ronin was here, watching you perform. But he didn’t know it was you, did he? He had no idea. You were about to show him just how much damage you could cause.

You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up from deep within you. You almost felt giddy at the thought of him watching, probably thinking of you as someone else entirely.

Your gaze flicked back to the man before you. He was gasping, his body trembling with the shock of the pain in his arm, and yet you weren’t done. Oh, no. You still had plenty to do.

You lifted the knife again, this time moving slowly toward his eye. His fear skyrocketed as he saw the glint of the blade, his body stiffening in a futile attempt to escape. You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his skin as you hovered just inches from his face.

And that’s when you whispered, “What if I just... pluck your eye out, hm? How would you like that?”

The terror in his eyes deepened, his chest heaving as he shook his head violently. But you couldn't help but smile wider at his futile attempts to flee. He wasn’t going anywhere, not with you in control.

But then, your gaze flickered back to the chat, and the message from Goreboy69 appeared again:

"Give him hell."

You giggled again, a wicked laugh that sent a shiver down your own spine, before turning your attention back to your captive. Ronin didn’t even realize it, but with every word he typed, he was pushing you further, guiding your actions. The connection between the two of you, unspoken and unacknowledged, made everything feel even more intense.

He didn’t know who you were, but you knew exactly who he was.

And that only made everything more delicious.

Your knife hovered just above his trembling eye, the sharp edge glinting in the dim light as his fear radiated outward in waves. The man’s body jerked instinctively, pulling against the ropes, but there was no escape. He was trapped. Completely at your mercy.

You stopped, just as the knife was about to make contact, holding it steady in midair. The sharp point was so close, the breath from his panicked gasps hitting your face. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, faster and faster, the sound of it almost more satisfying than any scream.

His voice broke through the silence, a desperate cry filled with hatred and fear. "You—bitch!" he screamed, his words muffled by the gag but still full of venom. "You're a sick monster! You think you're some kind of god? You're nothing! NOTHING!"

His words didn’t affect you. In fact, they only made the thrill more intense. You smiled wider, your eyes narrowing as you leaned closer, the cold metal still inches from his eye. "Oh, you're right about one thing," you whispered softly, the knife edge almost touching his eyelid now, "I am a monster. And you're about to find out just how real it can get."

His body jerked again, this time his face contorting in an even more horrified expression, his whole being consumed by terror as he realized how close he was to losing an eye. You could see the sweat pouring down his forehead, his chest heaving violently with each breath. But you couldn’t resist—it was too tempting, too sweet.

You let the knife edge touch his skin, just for a moment, teasing the fragile layer of flesh. He screamed again, but this time it was different—a scream of pure terror as he realized he was so close to something irreversible.

And then, just as his voice broke with another desperate curse, you pulled the knife back, letting it fall to your side with a quiet, almost playful chuckle.

"You know, you’re lucky," you said, your voice light and sweet, as though you weren’t holding his life in your hands. "I’m in a good mood today. But don’t think for a second that I won’t finish what I started."

The man’s breathing slowed, but only slightly. He was still a broken mess, realizing just how close he had come to death. He cursed again, shaking his head violently in the restraints.

You turned your attention back to the screen, noticing another message from Goreboy69 pop up in the chat. You glanced at it, reading his words carefully:

*"You’re doing *great. He deserves everything. Don't stop now."

A sly smile curled on your lips. Ronin. You could almost feel his presence, even if he still didn’t know it was you. His words pushed you, made you want to go further, to make this man suffer in ways he could never have imagined.

"Well," you whispered, turning back to your victim with a grin, "I guess we can’t let him off that easy, can we?"

The man’s eyes widened in horror as you reached for the knife again. This time, there would be no hesitation.

You knelt before the trembling man, a thin, gleaming metal instrument in your grasp. Its delicate design contrasted with the brutality of its purpose.

“This will hold your eye open,” you murmured, your voice calm and detached, as if explaining a benign procedure. The man’s breath hitched, and he immediately thrashed, shaking his head violently in protest.

“NO! NO, PLEASE—”

His plea was cut off by your other hand gripping his face with unyielding strength. Your fingers dug into his skin, forcing his head to still. His terror-filled eyes darted in every direction, searching for an escape he knew didn’t exist.

“Stay. Still.” The command was firm, your tone leaving no room for disobedience. You brought the metal instrument closer, positioning it against his swollen eyelids. Despite his muffled screams and jerking motions, you carefully pried them open. The exposed orb quivered, blood pooling around its damaged edges.

“There,” you cooed, almost gently, as if offering some twisted reassurance. “Now we can get to work.”

You raised a scalpel, its blade catching the faint light, and twirled it between your fingers for the camera to see. The gesture was as elegant as it was menacing, the audience no doubt captivated. A few cheered in the chat, but one name stood out: Goreboy69.

"Perfection. Don’t stop now."

You smirked, the encouragement fueling your performance.

“I’m only cutting away the bad parts,” you explained sweetly, tilting your head as if you truly believed your words were merciful.

The man’s screams intensified as the scalpel touched his flesh, the blade slicing into the delicate tissue of his eye socket. Blood welled instantly, streaming down his face in dark, sticky rivulets. He convulsed in his restraints, his voice cracking under the strain of his terror.

The sound was exquisite: the wet scrape of the blade against ruined flesh, the metallic click as your tools grazed one another, all punctuated by his raw, guttural cries.

You carved with precision, each movement deliberate, as though you were an artist shaping a masterpiece. The chat exploded with messages—some in awe, others begging for more. Your focus, however, remained unwavering.

“Almost done,” you murmured, your voice carrying a detached serenity as though the man’s agony was merely background noise.

When you finally stepped back, the once-pristine blade was smeared crimson, and the man before you was nothing more than a shaking, sobbing wreck. You held the scalpel up for the camera, giving it a little twirl once more, your signature flourish.

The screens blazed with cold, artificial light, casting an almost clinical glow over the room. Your masked face was illuminated as you turned back toward the man, a faint smile playing on your lips.

"Ah, my apologies," you said with a soft chuckle, tilting your head in mock contrition. "I was getting carried away. But isn’t tonight’s star a bit… mundane?"

Your eyes flicked to the chat, where the messages scrolled rapidly. One caught your attention, and you read it aloud with a sly grin.

“‘No mental games today?’” You giggled, the sound saccharine and sharp. "What a vulgar question, darling! But…" You turned your gaze back to the man strapped helplessly before you, your tone dropping to a dangerous purr. "Physical pain has its own… unique ability to open and close doors, wouldn’t you agree?"

The man whimpered, barely audible. "S-save me…" he whispered, voice trembling, broken.

His wide, frantic eyes darted around the room, taking in the countless cameras positioned at every angle. He jerked against his restraints, panic overtaking him.

“What… what the hell? Why are there so many?!” His voice cracked, the fear palpable.

You ignored his frantic movements, instead feigning an air of absentminded curiosity as you rummaged through a tray of tools. Your hand paused on one particular item, and your fingers curled around it with deliberate slowness.

"I'm sure you're familiar with this sound," you said calmly, just as a loud BANG erupted, the sharp crack ricocheting through the room. The man flinched violently, his body jerking as far as the restraints allowed. His breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, his eyes darting in search of the source.

“It’s a nail gun,” you said matter-of-factly, stepping closer. You circled him with a predator’s grace, the heavy thud of your boots echoing ominously. Finally, you stopped behind him and pressed the cold, unfeeling metal tip of the pneumatic tool against his shoulder. He gasped, the contact forcing a shiver down his spine.

“Do you know what a pneumatic nail gun is, mister?” you asked sweetly, your voice dripping with mock politeness. His head lolled back, his pupils unfocused as he tried to comprehend.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” he spat, though the defiance in his voice was betrayed by the quiver of his body.

BANG!

A sharp, sickening sound rang out as the first nail was driven into his flesh. He screamed—a visceral, agonized wail that echoed in the confined space. The light from the monitors caught the glint of the metallic tip protruding from his arm, a bead of crimson welling up around it.

“Oh, it is a nail!” you cooed mockingly, as though this revelation amused you. Without hesitation, you pulled the trigger again.

BANG!

His body convulsed as another nail punctured through muscle and sinew.

BANG!

And another.

BANG!

His arm hung limp now, blood trickling down in dark, sticky trails as his screams turned hoarse, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Pull them out," you instructed suddenly, your voice light, almost playful. “Go on—I give you permission.”

His swollen, shaking hand inched toward the nail lodged just below his elbow. Tears streaked his face, mingling with the sweat dripping from his brow. His trembling fingers brushed the nail’s edge, and with a ragged sob, he gripped it.

He pulled.

The slick, nauseating sensation of the nail sliding free from the meat of his arm made him lurch forward, gagging on his cries. Blood spurted from the open wound, and he froze, trembling, unable to move or speak.

You crouched beside him, tilting your head like a curious child.

“See?” you whispered, your voice as soothing as it was sinister. “Pain can teach you so much more than words ever could.”

You turned to the chat, the scrolling messages flashing across your monitor. A particularly enthusiastic suggestion caught your eye, and you tilted your head, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips beneath the mask.

"Oh? Power tools, you say?" you cooed, running your gloved fingers across the array of instruments laid out before you. "Darling, you're positively spoiling me with ideas tonight."

Your hand hovered over a blowtorch, the sleek metal gleaming under the harsh lights. Picking it up, you tested the weight in your hand before turning to your guest of honor. His bloodshot eyes widened in absolute terror as recognition dawned on him.

"You know what this is, don’t you?" you teased, igniting the torch with a sharp flick. A controlled flame roared to life, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The man screamed, his cries raw and piercing, his body thrashing against the restraints with renewed desperation.

"Please—NO! STOP!" he begged, his voice breaking, but the words only seemed to delight you further.

"Shh, shh…" you said softly, your tone almost soothing. You leaned in close, the flame dancing mere inches from his face. "I just want to see how much heat you can take before you… break."

The flame licked toward him, and he jerked his head to the side, trying to evade the searing heat. You chuckled, the sound cold and devoid of mercy, as you brought the torch down toward his arm.

The fabric of his shirt began to singe, curling and blackening under the intensity of the flame. He shrieked as the heat seared his skin, the acrid stench of burning flesh filling the air. His screams were guttural, primal, as though the agony had reached into the very depths of his soul.

"Music to my ears," you said with a laugh, pulling the torch back momentarily. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, his face contorted in agony.

You turned back to the chat, which was erupting in chaotic glee.

"Too much already? Or should I keep going?" you asked, tilting your head at the screen. The responses came in fast, a flood of sadistic encouragement that made your grin widen.

"Ah, it seems they're not satisfied yet," you said, turning your gaze back to the trembling, broken man before you. "And I do hate disappointing my audience."

You crouched down to the trembling man's level, tilting your head as if inspecting him with genuine curiosity. He was panting, his face glistening with sweat and twisted in agony. Slowly, you raised the blowtorch again, the flame roaring to life with a menacing hiss.

“Don’t worry,” you cooed, your tone dripping with mock reassurance. “I’m only doing you a favor. These open wounds? They’re… unsightly. We wouldn’t want an infection now, would we?”

He screamed as you guided the flame toward one of the nail punctures in his arm, the raw flesh exposed and oozing. The moment the fire kissed his skin, his entire body convulsed violently. The sound of sizzling flesh filled the room, accompanied by his blood-curdling shrieks.

“Shhh,” you whispered, pressing the blowtorch closer. The flame lingered, sealing the wound shut with a grotesque crackle. The scent of charred meat was overpowering, and you wrinkled your nose playfully. “You’re lucky I’m such a perfectionist. I wouldn’t want to leave you half-done.”

You moved to the next wound, repeating the process with deliberate slowness. He thrashed against the restraints, his muffled sobs and cries blending into a pathetic symphony of suffering. Each press of the torch elicited fresh screams, his voice growing hoarse from the relentless abuse.

Finally, you clicked the torch off and set it down with care, the room falling eerily silent except for his ragged breathing. “There. All sealed up. Isn’t that better?” you asked, tilting your head as though expecting gratitude. He merely whimpered, tears streaming down his face.

But you weren’t done yet. Not even close.

You reached out with your gloved hand, gripping the scorched, charred flesh around one of the wounds. “Now, let’s not waste good food,” you said with a sadistic grin, peeling away a burnt piece of flesh. The man recoiled in horror, shaking his head violently as you held it up in front of his face.

“Open wide,” you sang, your voice lilting with dark amusement. He clenched his jaw shut, his entire body trembling in revulsion.

“Oh, come on,” you said, your tone darkening, the glint in your eyes dangerous. “Don’t make me force you.”

When he didn’t comply, you grabbed his jaw with one hand, squeezing until his mouth popped open with a guttural cry. You shoved the charred piece of meat inside, your gloved fingers pressing it against his tongue.

“Chew,” you commanded, your voice icy. He gagged, tears streaming down his face as he bit down reluctantly. The crunch of the scorched tissue was nauseating, and his sobs grew louder as he swallowed.

You purred mockingly, patting his cheek with your bloodstained glove. “Now wasn’t that delicious?” You turned back to the chat, where the messages were pouring in, a cacophony of unhinged excitement and demands for more.

You turned your attention back to the man, his face contorted with pure, unfiltered terror. His sobs were erratic, broken by sharp intakes of breath as he trembled beneath your gaze.

“Ah,” you sighed theatrically, dragging a gloved finger along the edge of his mangled arm. “All this lovely flesh… it feels like such a waste, doesn’t it?”

He whimpered, shaking his head in weak protest, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please... no more...”

But your grin only widened, a glint of sadistic delight in your eyes. “Oh, come now. You don’t want to waste the gift of life, do you? And what’s more personal than… sharing a part of yourself?”

You picked up a small, serrated blade, twirling it deftly for the camera. The chat was ablaze, cheering you on, demanding more. One message caught your eye: "Feed him to himself! Ultimate justice!"

“Such a poetic suggestion,” you mused aloud, chuckling softly. Then, without hesitation, you grabbed his wrist and pressed the blade into the fleshy part of his palm. He screamed as you sawed through the muscle, carving a small, bloodied chunk free. The meat dangled grotesquely from the tip of the knife as you held it up for the camera.

“Here we go,” you cooed, bringing the knife closer to his face. He thrashed weakly, his body utterly spent from the torment. “Open wide, darling. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“No! No, no, no!” he cried, his voice cracking, but his defiance only seemed to fuel your amusement. You let out an exaggerated sigh before pinching his jaw open once again, forcing the piece of his own flesh past his lips.

“Chew,” you commanded firmly, your voice like steel. He hesitated, and you pressed the flat of the blade against his throat. “Now.”

Tears streamed down his face as he obeyed, his teeth grinding against the sinewy meat. The sound was sickening, wet and gristly, and his gagging made it clear he was fighting every instinct to spit it out. But you wouldn’t let him.

“Swallow,” you ordered, your tone low and threatening. His throat bobbed as he choked the piece down, and you clapped your hands together mockingly.

“Bravo!” you said, turning to the camera with a playful smirk. “He’s such a good boy for all of us, isn’t he?”

The chat exploded with messages: "More!" "Make him eat more of himself!" "This is ART!"

You hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at your trembling victim. “Well, chat has spoken,” you said cheerfully, picking up the blade again. “Let’s see how much more we can get before he starts losing consciousness, shall we?”

His scream echoed through the room as the blade met his flesh once more.

The man’s screams turned to desperate sobs, his head lolling weakly as he struggled to stay conscious. Blood dripped steadily onto the cold floor, pooling beneath him in dark, sticky puddles.

“P-please,” he gasped, his voice hoarse and broken. “Please… just kill me. End it. I can’t… I can’t take anymore.”

You tilted your head, as if considering his plea, the blowtorch still idling in your hand with its ominous hiss. “Kill you?” you echoed, your tone light and almost amused. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that? If I just kill you now, we’ll miss out on all the potential, all the possibilities.”

Tears streamed down his face, mixing with sweat and blood. “Please…” he whispered, his words barely audible. “I’m begging you...”

You knelt down, bringing yourself to eye level with him, your mask glinting in the harsh light. “Begging, huh?” you murmured. “You begged your wife, too, didn’t you? When you hit her? When you—” You didn’t finish the sentence, your voice curling into icy disdain.

His eyes widened, his breath hitching as shame and fear mingled in his expression. “I... I was wrong... I know! Please, I deserve it! Just—just make it stop!”

You let out a soft, almost pitying laugh, reaching out to cup his bloodied cheek. He flinched at your touch, but you held him firmly, your grip unrelenting.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you purred mockingly, “death would be a mercy. And mercy is something you don’t deserve. Not yet.”

You leaned closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t get to take the easy way out. You’ll suffer, piece by piece, just like your victims did. You’ll feel every ounce of their pain until there’s nothing left of you but regret and broken pieces.”

The man sobbed uncontrollably, shaking his head as if trying to deny the reality of your words. “No… no more… please…”

You straightened up, flicking the blowtorch off with a decisive click. “You’re not going anywhere, darling,” you said, your voice saccharine yet sharp. “We’ve only just begun.”

Turning back to the camera, you offered your viewers a cheerful wave. “Chat, should we take this slow and savor it? Or should we get creative with our next session? Let me know!”

You turned back to the screens, your voice bright and chillingly cheerful.

"Who's ready for the grand finale?" you announced, the smile behind your mask almost audible. "You came here for blood, and blood you shall receive!"

From behind your back, you produced a knife, holding it out toward the broken man slumped before you.

"Here," you said softly, almost kindly. "They want to see blood. So give it to them. It's the least you can do."

His trembling eyes flicked to the blade in your hand, a flicker of understanding and horror crossing his face. Slowly, his shackled hands reached out, the sound of metal scraping against metal filling the tense air.

"They want blood," you repeated, your voice a honeyed whisper as he grasped the knife. "Give it to them. Become the spectacle you always were."

He stared at the weapon in his shaking hands. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have, as though it carried more than just steel. His breath hitched, and with a sharp intake of air, he slashed at his own arm.

The cut was clumsy but deep, a line of crimson blooming against pale flesh. He gasped, then slashed again—harder this time, more frantic. Blood began to pool, spilling over his lap and onto the floor.

You took a step back, folding your arms as you watched him spiral into madness. The audience in the chat was electric, messages flooding in with cheers and disbelief.

He was unraveling. You’d broken him.

The knife hovered at his stomach now, the trembling tip pressing into soft flesh. He froze, unsure, his blood-slicked fingers hesitating.

You tilted your head, your voice dropping to a low, venomous hiss. "Do it. Die by your own hands, bastard. That’s your punishment. Become the show—like you did to her."

His eyes widened, a flicker of defiance mingling with despair, but it wasn’t enough. With a sickening squelch, he plunged the knife into his own abdomen. His scream was raw, guttural, the sound of a man tearing himself apart.

You stepped closer, kneeling before him as he coughed up blood, the crimson liquid staining his chin. Without hesitation, you grasped his trembling hands and guided them.

"Deeper," you commanded coldly, dragging the blade through layers of flesh and muscle.

The room echoed with his wet, choking cries as his insides began to spill from the gaping wound. He dropped the knife with a clatter, his bloodied fingers fumbling to touch the viscera now exposed to the cold air.

And then, trembling and weak, he reached inside himself, his expression one of awe and horror as he grasped something warm and slick. With a guttural cough, he pulled it free—a glistening, pulsating mass dripping with blood and bile.

The chat erupted. Messages flew by faster than you could read them, a frenzy of horror, fascination, and exhilaration.

You smiled, rising to your feet and turning to the camera.

"Now that," you said, your voice calm and composed, "is what it means to put on a show."

You stepped closer, the glint of something metallic catching the light as you unraveled a thin, taut wire from your pocket. The man, slumped and delirious, barely registered what you were doing until you slipped it around his neck.

"Please…" he croaked, his voice shredded and weak. "Let me live… I’ll do anything—"

You pulled the wire tight.

The sharp, strangled gasp he let out was drowned by the symphony of his panicked gurgles. His hands shot up instinctively, clawing at the wire digging deep into his skin, but it was useless.

"Live?" you mocked, your voice lilting like a twisted lullaby. "You want to live after everything you’ve done? After you begged me to kill you just moments ago? Make up your mind, darling."

He choked, his eyes bulging as blood trickled from the thin, precise lacerations forming around his throat. His body convulsed, every muscle spasming in desperation, but your grip on the wire remained steadfast, unyielding.

The room echoed with his choking cries, the metallic scent of blood thickening in the air.

"Beg louder," you sneered, leaning in close. "Scream if you want to be heard, but I don’t think anyone’s listening."

He gurgled, his words reduced to wet, incoherent gasps as the life drained from his face. You held the wire tighter, your own bloodied hands trembling—not from exertion, but from the sheer euphoria coursing through you.

And then, with one final shudder, his body went limp.

The blood pooling beneath him was a gruesome masterpiece, and his lifeless eyes stared at nothing, wide with terror. The room fell silent except for your own ragged breathing.

And then you laughed.

It started as a soft chuckle, but it grew—wild, unhinged, echoing off the walls like a symphony of chaos. The chat erupted in hysteria, but you barely noticed. You were drunk on the moment, every fiber of your being alight with exhilaration.

You wiped the blood from your hands onto your already-stained clothes, turning back to the camera.

"Well," you said, your grin audible even through the mask, "that was fun, wasn’t it?"

You continued to laugh, a manic, bone-chilling sound that filled the empty space, bouncing off the cold walls. It wasn’t just amusement—it was the high of control, of domination, of having broken another soul to your will. The laughter bubbled up, unstoppable, each giggle darker than the last.

The chat exploded, flooding the screen with messages, all calling for more, egging you on. You could see it in their words, in the thirst for the chaos you just unleashed. They wanted more, always more. But you knew—no one could handle what you had just done.

"Look at him," you said, still laughing, voice crackling with delight. "What a beautiful mess he is. The blood. The agony. His desperate attempts to cling to life... Pathetic."

Your fingers traced the outline of the knife, still slick with the remnants of his suffering. The screen flickered for a moment, the feedback of the camera shifting with the sickening pleasure you felt watching the lifeless body slump in its final form. You wiped your lips with your sleeve, almost theatrically, as if savoring the last drops of something far sweeter than any wine.

The room, drenched in the aftermath, felt like a stage—your stage. Your laughter rang out, drowning the voices of the audience, who had become no more than background noise to your performance.

"Don't you love it, darling?" you murmured, the smile on your face never leaving. "This is what you wanted, right? This is what all of you want—someone, anyone, willing to go just a little bit further, to rip it all apart for the thrill."

You leaned into the camera, your voice low and seductive, the mask a mere formality now.

"Tell me, what next? What should we do with the next one? Hmm?"

You leaned back, the laughter from the screen still lingering in your throat. It echoed in your mind as you looked at the chat, the names disappearing one by one until only one remained.

Goreboy69.

You smiled, a cold, knowing smile that stretched across your face, and without breaking eye contact with the camera, you spoke directly to him.

“Stay,” you commanded, voice dripping with malicious sweetness.

He typed back, confused: “Hm? What is it?”

You let the silence hang between your words. Slowly, deliberately, you met his gaze through the lens, unblinking, like you were staring into the very core of his soul.

"Are you the Devil's Butcher?" you asked, your voice as calm and steady as if you were asking about the weather.

The response was almost instant, "Huh? Looks like Someone's onto me? What now Darling?"

Mockingly, you chuckled. Of course, you knew who he was. —he just didn’t realize it yet. But that was part of the fun, wasn’t it? Keeping him in the dark while you played your own game.

You leaned in, your lips curling into an even darker grin as you addressed him through the screen, voice sharp.

“So, how was the show tonight?” you asked. Your smile widened. "Did you enjoy the blood?"

He replied quickly, boasting: “Pretty good, still not as good as me in gore. I could teach you.”

Your laughter bubbled up again, light but chilling. “Teach me? Oh, darling, I think you should learn from me,” you teased, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice. “But I’ll give you one thing... the next show’s guest will be you.”

You paused, letting the weight of your words sink in. Then, you finished with a final, gleeful laugh.

“Be ready for a bloodbath, Ronin Beaufort. HAHAHAHA!”

And just like that, you ended the stream, the screen going black as you leaned back, savoring the thrill. You'd sent him a message.

Ronin's mind spun with confusion and amusement as he muttered to himself, his hand tapping the edge of the table. "How the hell did they know my name?" He laughed softly, though there was something darker behind it, a smirk curling on his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

It was a question that gnawed at him, a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. The cryptic message, the strange connection... it didn’t sit well, but something about it ignited a spark. Maybe it was the audacity of the person on the other side, maybe it was how easily they played his game.

The Devil, after all, was always watching, always playing his cards.

His smile widened as he whispered under his breath, almost to himself, “Pretty good... but I’ll show ‘em who’s really in charge.” There was that same glint in his eyes, the one that screamed danger and thrill, the one that promised nothing but chaos to whoever dared to provoke him.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard again, he typed slowly, savoring the weight of every word. His thoughts dripped with venom as he set the next scene in motion.

The next day, you noticed something strange in the server. Ronin was acting… off, or at least, different than usual. He had pinged V, of all people—V, the one person who hated his guts, almost as much as Ronin loved messing with him. But this time, it wasn’t the usual insults or jabs. No, this time, Ronin dropped a chilling message.

"Damn @k9, someone’s gonna kill your kill."

You understood immediately. He was playing a game, one that only he fully understood, but you weren't going to let him take the lead on this.

You didn’t respond right away, though. You knew better than to react impulsively. Instead, you asked, "What happened?" knowing full well what he was talking about. You wanted him to keep talking, to give you more.

In the middle of all this, there was V. The thorn in Ronin's side, and the perfect counter to everything Ronin stood for. Their relationship was a mess of contradictions. On the surface, they were complete opposites—V, the so-called "righteous" killer, and Ronin, the chaotic force of evil. They didn’t like each other, of course. But somewhere beneath that intense animosity, there was something else. A kind of respect, even if they wouldn’t admit it.

Neither of them would ever say it out loud, especially not under threat of torture, but the truth was, they were perfect for each other. V, with his morality complex, hated Ronin because he embodied everything wrong with humanity, while Ronin despised V for trying to impose some false sense of order on the chaos of the world. It was a dangerous and sickening dance they did, each one trying to outdo the other, each one pushing the other further into madness.

Ronin never minded baiting V. He enjoyed it too much. The way V’s righteous fury bubbled over, how it drove him to action. It was all so easy. But the thing that bothered Ronin, that gnawed at him in ways he wouldn’t show, was the simple fact that V hated him for being everything V wanted to fix. Ronin loved every minute of it.

And now? It was getting worse. Everyone in the server was worried. Angelic had even mentioned something about a streamer saying they were going to kill Ronin. Even she was doing something to find who it was... Even V was searching for the address. The irony was thick enough to cut with a knife—V trying to play hero, trying to hunt down someone like Ronin, all while completely ignoring the hypocrisy of his own existence.

Ronin, though, wasn’t worried. He was too smug for that.

“Aww, someone’s worried for me?” Ronin typed, his usual teasing tone evident. “V’s trying to find the address to kill me before they get the chance, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky attitude and typed back, “Shut up. Why are you so excited about dying?” You were practically daring him to answer, testing his response, knowing he'd find a way to twist it into some dark joke.

Ronin’s reply came quickly, and you could almost hear the smirk through the screen. “Excited? Nah. Just thinkin’ about how boring it’d be to die by someone else’s hand. I’ll die on my terms. I’ll kill them first.”

But you knew better. Ronin, for all his bravado, wasn’t the type to shy away from death. In fact, he’d almost welcome it, in his own twisted way. He loved the game, the thrill of it all. So why was he suddenly talking about being killed? Why the warning, the cryptic messages, the tension?

“Ronin…” You typed, your tone taking on a darker edge. “You wouldn’t really let them kill you, would you?”

Ronin didn’t respond immediately, and that silence left you with a sense of unease you weren’t used to with him. He’d always been a step ahead, unpredictable, always knowing the game and how to play it. But this… this felt different.

You stared at the screen, your hands trembling slightly as you typed. His words echoed in your head, and despite the cruel taunting, something deep within you twisted. You had expected it, of course. Ronin thrived on chaos, on destruction, and on pushing others into the darkest corners of their minds.

But there was a moment of vulnerability in him now—something that made your chest tighten as the realization hit you: you couldn't let him die. Not like this. Not in the hands of anyone but you.

You typed the words, your fingers frozen for a second before they continued moving, faster now, more desperate.

"I won't let you die, Ronin," you wrote, your voice a little shakier than you intended. "I won't... I can't."

The silence on the other side of the screen seemed to stretch. Then came his response, a taunt dripping with condescension. "Pathetic," he typed, his words sharp and mocking. "You really think I need saving?"

A bitter laugh followed. "Even if I die, it’s not the end of the world, darling. It’s just another show. Another performance. You’ll move on, just like everyone else."

You felt a pang in your chest. The words cut deeper than you expected. This wasn’t just a game to him. For Ronin, death was something he'd flirted with for so long, it had become a part of his identity, a mask he wore as comfortably as his twisted smile. But hearing it, coming from him... it stung more than you'd like to admit.

You stared at the message for a long time, fighting the gnawing feeling in your gut. But then, slowly, you typed back.

"Stop. Just stop," you wrote, your voice softer, though still tinged with an underlying desperation. "You think it's just another show, but it’s not. Not for me. You can't just throw your life away... again."

For a moment, you could almost hear him chuckle through the screen. The nerve of him—acting like he was invincible, untouchable. He wanted to break you, wanted to make you feel like you were just another part of his endless game. But you wouldn’t play by his rules anymore. You couldn't.

You stared at his last message. "What if I want to die, though?" it read. "What if that’s the only way out? You can’t save me, sweetheart. I’m too far gone."

Your heart raced, but there was no time to waste. You didn't care how twisted he was, how deep in his madness he had fallen. You couldn’t let him slip through your fingers.

"You’re not beyond saving," you typed quickly, almost angrily. "Don’t you dare say that. You’re not too far gone for me."

He was silent again, but his presence hung in the air, like a storm waiting to break. You could feel it—his confusion, his teasing, and yet... maybe something else. Maybe something beneath it all that he never let anyone see.

Your eyes blurred with tears as you typed, every word feeling heavier than the last. You couldn't shake the longing that twisted inside of you, the need to see him again. Not through a screen, not in the hollow confines of this digital game you’d both become part of. You wanted him—no, you needed him—alive, in front of you, where you could touch him, see the chaos in his eyes up close.

You wiped your face hastily, trying to fight the burning desperation in your chest. It wasn’t about saving him anymore. It was something darker, something far more dangerous.

"I want to see you," you typed, the words flowing out like a whispered confession, full of ache and longing. "I want to see you in purgatory alley side again..."

You paused for a moment, your heart pounding in your throat. The alley was their place. A place where you had both walked the line between pleasure and pain, life and death. You had felt his presence there, so close, so real, and now, you wanted it again.

You typed the final words with a trembling hand. "Come to me."

For a moment, the screen sat still. There was no immediate response. You could almost hear his voice in your head—smirking, mocking you, telling you how absurd you were for asking. But you needed it. You needed him to walk into the space between you, to make this more than words, more than empty threats.

His response came, slow and deliberate. "You want to see me?"

You took a deep breath, holding back another wave of emotion. "Yes. I want you to come."

There was a silence on the other end. And then his message blinked onto the screen, full of that same mocking tone you had come to expect from him.

"Well, well... You’re either braver than I thought, or just as insane as me. Purgatory it is then. I’ll be there, sweetheart. You better be ready for what you asked for."

Your breath caught in your throat. There it was. He was coming.

You closed your eyes for a moment, the rush of emotion overwhelming.

The alley smelled of damp concrete and rust, the cold air biting at your skin as you stood there, heart pounding with anticipation. Your eyes searched through the shadows, the darkness swallowing the world around you. Then, you saw him.

Leaning casually against the wall, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, full of that twisted amusement you both thrived on. Ronin stood there, his crowbar slung over his shoulder, the faint moonlight glinting off its metal surface. His presence was unmistakable—almost like a storm just waiting to break.

The moment your eyes locked, your heart skipped a beat. Every rational thought in your mind scattered to the winds. You stepped forward without thinking, your body moving on its own as if it was drawn to him like gravity itself.

And then, without hesitation, you threw yourself into his arms.

His surprise was fleeting, replaced quickly with that unmistakable, dangerous smirk. He let you hug him, but the laugh that escaped his lips was laced with mocking curiosity.

"What’s wrong?" His voice was low, almost playful, but you could hear the darkness underneath, that ever-present edge. He didn’t push you away, but the way he tilted his head, his crowbar now hanging loosely in his hand, was a challenge—a dare.

You pressed your face into his neck, your breath coming out in ragged sobs. Tears spilled down your face, but you didn’t care. They mixed with the blood on your lips, your emotions raw and unfiltered. You could feel the heat of his body, the weight of his presence anchoring you to reality. Your lips brushed against the cold skin of his neck as you whispered, "I just… wanted to see you. Wanted to feel you here…"

He stood still for a moment, seemingly unbothered by your tears, before letting out a soft, cruel chuckle. His fingers ran lightly through your hair, the gesture tender but twisted, like he enjoyed the way you broke down in his presence.

"You’re pathetic," he mused, his voice almost a mockery of concern, though the hint of something else—something darker—lingered. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. "You think I’m gonna save you? Is that it?"

You could feel the tension in his muscles, his amusement mingled with something far more dangerous. You pulled yourself tighter against him, not wanting to let go. He was everything you wanted, everything you needed, and yet, the line between pain and pleasure was so fine with him.

"No," you whispered, your voice breaking as you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. "I don't want you to save me, Ronin... I just need you here. I need you to show me that you see me. That you care."

For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause, as if the air itself held its breath. Ronin’s eyes darkened, his smirk deepening into something far more dangerous. His fingers slid from your hair to your throat, a gentle pressure that felt more like a promise than a threat.

"You want to know if I care?" He whispered back, his voice so quiet, you could barely hear it over the sound of your own heartbeat. "You already know the answer to that, sweetheart. But be careful what you wish for..."

With a sudden, predatory movement, he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing over your lips. The raw energy between you both crackled, and for a moment, the world outside this alley—this twisted moment—didn’t exist.

And then he laughed again, that same dangerous laugh, before leaning in just enough to press his lips to the shell of your ear.

"You’re mine," he said softly, "and I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."

The alley smelled of damp concrete and rust, the cold air biting at your skin as you stood there, heart pounding with anticipation. Your eyes searched through the shadows, the darkness swallowing the world around you. Then, you saw him.

Leaning casually against the wall, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, full of that twisted amusement you both thrived on. Ronin stood there, his crowbar slung over his shoulder, the faint moonlight glinting off its metal surface. His presence was unmistakable—almost like a storm just waiting to break.

The moment your eyes locked, your heart skipped a beat. Every rational thought in your mind scattered to the winds. You stepped forward without thinking, your body moving on its own as if it was drawn to him like gravity itself.

And then, without hesitation, you threw yourself into his arms.

His surprise was fleeting, replaced quickly with that unmistakable, dangerous smirk. He let you hug him, but the laugh that escaped his lips was laced with mocking curiosity.

"What’s wrong?" His voice was low, almost playful, but you could hear the darkness underneath, that ever-present edge. He didn’t push you away, but the way he tilted his head, his crowbar now hanging loosely in his hand, was a challenge—a dare.

You pressed your face into his neck, your breath coming out in ragged sobs. Tears spilled down your face, but you didn’t care. They mixed with the blood on your lips, your emotions raw and unfiltered. You could feel the heat of his body, the weight of his presence anchoring you to reality. Your lips brushed against the cold skin of his neck as you whispered, "I just… wanted to see you. Wanted to feel you here…"

He stood still for a moment, seemingly unbothered by your tears, before letting out a soft, cruel chuckle. His fingers ran lightly through your hair, the gesture tender but twisted, like he enjoyed the way you broke down in his presence.

"You’re pathetic," he mused, his voice almost a mockery of concern, though the hint of something else—something darker—lingered. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. "You think I’m gonna save you? Is that it?"

You could feel the tension in his muscles, his amusement mingled with something far more dangerous. You pulled yourself tighter against him, not wanting to let go. He was everything you wanted, everything you needed, and yet, the line between pain and pleasure was so fine with him.

"No," you whispered, your voice breaking as you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. "I don't want you to save me, Ronin... I just need you here. I need you to show me that you see me. That you care."

For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause, as if the air itself held its breath. Ronin’s eyes darkened, his smirk deepening into something far more dangerous. His fingers slid from your hair to your throat, a gentle pressure that felt more like a promise than a threat.

"You want to know if I care?" He whispered back, his voice so quiet, you could barely hear it over the sound of your own heartbeat. "You already know the answer to that, sweetheart. But be careful what you wish for..."

With a sudden, predatory movement, he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing over your lips. The raw energy between you both crackled, and for a moment, the world outside this alley—this twisted moment—didn’t exist.

And then he laughed again, that same dangerous laugh, before leaning in just enough to press his lips to the shell of your ear.

"You’re mine," he said softly, "and I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."

As soon as the air between you and Ronin thickened with a tension you both reveled in, your smile twisted into something dark—something sinister. Your grip tightened around his neck for just a moment, and in that instant, you pulled something from your pocket.

A handkerchief, folded neatly. He didn’t even have time to register the movement before it was pressed firmly against his mouth and nose. The scent of the sedative hit his nostrils almost immediately, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. But the familiar coldness of the chemical didn't take long to overwhelm him.

"What the hell...?" His voice was muffled, his words slurred as his body began to react to the drug. His vision blurred, his breath growing shallow, his mind starting to fog. His knees buckled, and before he knew it, the floor met him with a sickening thud.

You stepped back, watching him fall to the ground, his face contorting in a mix of confusion and disbelief. He tried to fight, tried to push himself up, but the sedative had already taken hold, dragging him into unconsciousness. He collapsed, barely managing to lift his head to meet your eyes before everything went black.

For a long, still moment, you stood over him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the way his body trembled slightly as he fought the drug's effects. Then, as his eyelids fluttered closed, his gaze locked with yours.

It was in that brief instant, when his eyes flickered open one last time, that he saw it. The unmistakable recognition in his pupils, the terror and realization sweeping over him like a storm. His lips parted, but no words came. Instead, the air grew heavy, thick with the understanding of who you were.

"Wait... you?" he mumbled, barely audible, his body too weak to do anything but watch.

You smiled at him, your grin widening as you leaned down, looking into his eyes with a strange, knowing gleam. "Surprised?" you teased, your voice soft but full of twisted satisfaction. "I told you, Ronin... you know me more than you think."

His breathing grew shallow as his eyes roamed over your face. There, in your eyes, he saw the same fire, the same malicious delight he'd witnessed in the streamer's gaze—the one he'd taunted, the one he'd laughed at. The one who had watched him, followed his every move. The one who had been waiting for this moment.

His voice barely a whisper. "The streamer... it’s you."

You giggled softly, leaning in close to his ear, your lips brushing against his skin as you whispered, "Yes. It’s me, Ronin. The one who knows all about you. The one who's been waiting for the right moment. The one who’s going to make sure you never see the light of day again."

His eyes fluttered, and his body began to tremble, the realization sinking in deeper, but it was already too late. His body went limp, and the last thing he saw before succumbing to the sedative was the twisted satisfaction in your gaze.

As Ronin slowly regained consciousness, his mind felt sluggish, weighed down by the remnants of the sedative still clouding his thoughts. His body was stiff, his limbs heavy, and his vision was blurry at first. But as he blinked, trying to clear the fog, the familiar darkness of the alley came into focus.

What stood out more than anything, though, was the suffocating sensation around his face. He lifted a hand, but before he could fully process what was happening, he realized it was a mask. A mask... of him.

His butcher mask.

It was molded to his face, covering him completely, suffocating him in its dark, twisted representation of himself. The leather was tight against his skin, the eye holes just barely allowing him to see through.

He didn’t panic—no. Ronin wasn’t the type to panic. Not even when things were twisted, even when the situation felt... off. A faint, mocking smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he moved his fingers to touch the mask.

"Not bad," he murmured to himself, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "A little... personal, though."

He shifted slightly, his hands trying to pry at the mask, but something was holding him in place, binding him. And then it hit him—he wasn’t alone. The presence of another person in the room, in the shadows, made his skin crawl. He could feel their eyes on him.

The sudden realization surged through his veins like a lightning bolt. It was you. The streamer.

Without thinking, his eyes darted around, and he saw the familiar glow of a screen—the soft light of a chat window blinking to life before his very eyes. Your messages were appearing, and the chilling thought settled in his chest: You were here. You were typing, watching, playing the game.

The recognition was immediate. Your words, your tone, your presence—it all clicked into place. You’d been there all along, watching, waiting, controlling the narrative. The same person who had laughed at his pain, tormented him, had been the one watching all along.

With a mocking grin, Ronin let out a slow breath. He sat up, casually tossing the mask aside as if it were just a trivial part of his game. But his words? They were a challenge. A flirtation, as always, despite the situation.

"You’ve been a sneaky little thing, haven’t you?" Ronin’s voice was smooth, teasing, like he was having a conversation with a lover, not someone who had just drugged and trapped him. "I knew you were watching me. Thought I was gonna be surprised? Nah, darling... I’ve got my ways."

He leaned back, stretching his arms out and crossing one leg over the other, a relaxed confidence radiating from him. His eyes never left the screen, his gaze dark, but not one of fear. No. He was intrigued. There was no fear in his eyes—only amusement.

"You didn’t think you could hide from me forever, did you?" He tilted his head slightly, a smirk forming on his lips. "Funny, though. Here I am, thinking you're just a little puppet, hiding behind the screen. But now..." His voice trailed off, and his smile widened into something predatory, playful. "Now you’ve got me curious."

He looked straight into the camera, making sure you could see him. His words dripped with flirtation, but there was a dangerous undertone hidden beneath it.

"You think you’re the only one who can make things interesting? You’re not the only one who plays with knives, darling."

He let out a soft laugh, completely unbothered by the situation, like it was just another game. Another round of their twisted dance.

"You know, I really should be scared," he continued, his voice low, teasing. "But here’s the thing, sweetheart. The Devil doesn’t get scared. He plays." He leaned in closer to the camera, his face now inches away from the lens, a twisted gleam in his eyes.

"But you..." He paused, his voice turning darker. "You might just be worth my time."

As he finished speaking, he leaned back again, eyes still locked on the screen, a glimmer of curiosity, a bit of arrogance, and far too much self-assurance in his gaze.

"And I know you’re there, darling," he added, smirking knowingly. "Now, why don’t you tell me... what’s the next game?"

He didn’t expect an answer immediately—

He saw again and saw a camera.

The camera in your hands felt heavy, its cold weight a stark contrast to the boiling tension in the room. You didn’t speak, didn’t respond to his words. You just focused on him, the lens capturing his every move, his every word. Your silence was deliberate, a choice. The camera was an extension of yourself now, recording the scene as though it were the most mundane thing in the world.

He noticed the shift. His eyes locked onto the lens, and a smirk danced on his lips. His words were laced with mockery, yet there was something deeper—a strange admiration, perhaps, mixed with that edge of chaos that defined him.

“Is this the beauty all of your victims saw?” he mused aloud, his voice soft and mocking. “Why would anyone curse you? You’re so messed up and pretty. How could they curse you, darling?” He almost whispered the last part, as if he were speaking to a lover. “Eat my darling. That's what they should have said."

His eyes sparkled with a strange blend of adoration and twisted fascination. He leaned in slightly, watching the camera, his movements languid, almost playful. The way he spoke your name, darling, twisted into something sick and possessive, as though he were admiring a beautiful, broken object that he couldn’t quite get enough of.

The words stung, but you didn't react. You kept recording, capturing his every movement, the play of emotions on his face, the dark gleam in his eyes. There was an intensity in the air, thick and suffocating, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew—if he realized exactly what he was saying.

Ronin tilted his head to the side, watching your reaction—or lack thereof—with increasing amusement. He was a master at reading people, but you... you weren’t giving him anything.

“That’s what they saw, right? The beauty,” he continued, laughing softly. “How could they? Look at you.” His eyes drifted over you with an almost affectionate intensity, as if he were cataloging every inch of your being. “They were too weak to see the truth. You’re not messed up, darling. You’re perfect. You just needed the right... touch.”

His grin widened, teeth glinting as he leaned back again, the air around him practically crackling with the chaos he always embraced so effortlessly.

“I like this,” he said, his voice low, almost purring with satisfaction. “You don’t talk, you don’t react. It's like... you’re letting me run the show. But you know what? That’s fine with me. I’ll be the one to take charge, sweetheart.”

Ronin’s gaze softened for a split second, just long enough for a flicker of something almost tender to surface. But then it was gone, replaced by that same dangerous gleam.

“You know, I don’t mind being your monster," he said, voice thick with mocking affection. “But let me make this clear: you’re the only one who can make me feel... alive.”

His words were twisted, like everything else about him. Still, there was an undeniable sincerity buried underneath the layers of cruelty. He was in this moment, with you, and everything else didn’t matter.

The camera was still recording, capturing everything—his madness, his seduction, his sick fascination with you. You could feel it, the weight of his gaze, the intensity of the atmosphere between you two.

But you didn’t answer. Not yet. You were waiting for him to slip. Waiting for him to reveal more.

You set the camera down with a deliberate calmness, positioning it just right to capture both you and Ronin in the frame. The subtle click of the tripod adjusting its stance felt like the beginning of a ritual, a performance for an unseen audience. Your eyes remained locked on him as you adjusted the angles, ensuring that everything was perfect for the viewers.

The light from the screen flickered in the dim room, casting long shadows on the walls. The soft hum of the camera was a comforting constant, a background melody to the madness unfolding. You glanced toward the monitor, watching the feed from the camera, a brief moment of calm before the chaos resumed.

“Welcome, welcome!” you said, your voice sweet and casual, almost too casual, as though this were just another day. “I know, I know, you’ve all been waiting for this. The main event. The Devil’s Butcher... here in my little corner of the world.”

You smiled at the camera, your eyes never leaving Ronin’s. His expression had shifted, that dark gleam still in his eyes, but now there was a flicker of wariness—he wasn’t sure what was coming next.

“Let’s see how much fun we can have, shall we?” You took a step back, surveying him with a tilt of your head. The camera captured every detail of his tense posture, the way he was still watching you like a predator waiting for its chance to pounce.

“But first... for those of you just joining, let me remind you what we’re here for. This is where the thrill starts, where the fun truly begins. Blood, chaos, and a whole lot of love,” you purred, emphasizing the last word with a teasing lilt. The dichotomy of the words you spoke—so sweet, yet dripping with malice—seemed to delight you.

The chat was already buzzing, the messages flying by too fast to read, but you didn’t need to. You already knew what they were expecting, what they were hoping for.

“You’re all here to see the Devil. To see the Butcher. To see what happens when the world gets broken,” you continued, your voice dripping with dark amusement. You glanced at Ronin, that mockery still dancing in your eyes. “And oh, don’t worry, darling. You’ll see. You’ll see it all.”

Ronin’s lips quirked up at your words, though there was no warmth in the expression—just that dangerous, sharp edge he always carried. He wasn’t scared. No, he was amused, even intrigued by the way you were playing the game. He liked this. He thrived on it.

“Don’t think I’m going to be your little puppet,” he said, his voice low, playful, though the undercurrent of threat was ever-present. "But I’ll play along. For now."

You gave him a quick, almost imperceptible nod. “Good boy. See, we’re all just here for the entertainment, aren’t we? So let’s make it worth everyone’s while.”

You looked back at the camera, your smile widening as you leaned in just enough to speak directly into the lens, your voice dripping with a dangerous sweetness. “Sit tight, chat. We’re just getting started. You wouldn’t want to miss this, would you?”

And with that, you pressed a button on the camera, the feed streaming live to your loyal viewers. The countdown had begun.

You glanced at the chat, the messages rolling by in a steady stream. . "A user had suggested a "friendly stream" one day! Can I do it today!"

“No donations necessary today, folks,” you said with a smile, letting your voice drip with an eerie sweetness. “No need to worry. I’m in a good mood today. Just a nice, friendly stream… no gore… for now, anyway. We’re all just having fun here, right?”

The chat seemed to react in kind, almost too kind. The usual thirst for violence had been replaced by a strange, almost sympathetic tone. You noticed the messages offering support, people telling you to take it easy today, to relax. A few even said they hoped you were okay.

You could feel Ronin’s eyes on you, his brow furrowing, his confusion palpable as he watched you interact with the screen. It was as if the energy of the stream had changed, but not in the direction he’d anticipated.

You turned back toward him, flashing a grin, your eyes playful and mischievous.

“Oh, come on, darling,” you purred, still reveling in the strange mood shift. “You didn’t think I was all that bad, did you? After all, you’re here with me.” You motioned to him with an exaggerated gesture, almost as if presenting him to the camera.

Ronin’s gaze was steady, but his lips were pressed into a thin line. The words from the chat, the sudden shift, threw him off, and for once, he didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“You,” he finally muttered, his voice laced with that sharp, teasing edge, “are strange. I was expecting bloodshed, pain, chaos… but instead, you’re playing nice?” His tone was mocking, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his words.

You couldn't help but laugh, a soft, almost melodic sound that didn’t quite match the usual intensity of the situation. You leaned back in your chair, your eyes narrowing playfully at him.

“Strange?” you repeated, tilting your head. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see how well you behave when there’s no threat of death hanging over your head.”

Ronin raised an eyebrow at that. He didn’t respond immediately, just watched you with that predatory gaze. He was never one to fully trust a change in dynamic, especially not with you, someone so unpredictable.

But you couldn’t help but notice that despite his confusion, the tension between you two hadn’t vanished. It was still there, only… softer now. Less lethal, more intimate.

Your smile deepened. You looked at him again, studying him—his posture, his eyes, the familiar yet dangerous aura surrounding him. There was a strange comfort in knowing that, despite everything, he was still here with you. Your boyfriend, your devil, your butcher.

With a sudden movement, you stood from the chair, the casualness of the action almost mocking the seriousness of the moment. You walked over to him slowly, circling around him like a predator stalking its prey. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Instead, his eyes followed your every move.

You stopped just in front of him, leaning down to meet his gaze, your voice dropping to a whisper that only he could hear. “You’re still mine, aren’t you? Even with the whole world watching. You’re my Butcher, my love… and I’m not going to let anyone forget it.”

The chat continued to flow in the background, almost oblivious to the subtle power struggle that unfolded between the two of you. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the game you were playing, the strange bond between you two, and the way the world could fade away when you looked into each other’s eyes.

Ronin’s lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t quite the same as before. It was more… genuine, though tinged with something darker, something that matched the chaos he carried inside. “Yeah,” he murmured softly, his voice low and almost tender, “I’m still yours, darling.”

You turned back to the camera, smiling brightly as you addressed the chat one last time. “And that, my dear friends,” you said in a teasing tone, “was the surprise guest of the day—my boyfriend.” You let the words hang in the air for a moment, enjoying the reactions in the chat. There was a flood of surprised, confused, and even excited messages filling the screen.

You could hear Ronin’s soft laugh behind you as you clicked the button to end the stream. The chat still buzzing with comments, but now it was all just background noise. The show had come to its conclusion, and you had made your statement—loud and clear.

“Alright, that's it for today,” you said, your voice lighter now, almost playful. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back for more chaos soon. But for now... enjoy the rest of your day, everyone. Byeee!”

With a final click, the stream was over.

You turned toward Ronin, who was now slumped in the chair, his arms still bound. You circled around him slowly, the smile never leaving your face. He looked up at you, eyebrows raised in mock confusion.

“What the hell kind of shitty prank was that?” he asked, his tone still taunting. But as he saw your grin widen, something changed. He wasn’t angry—far from it. There was amusement there, that dark glint in his eyes that only you could see.

You crouched down in front of him, brushing a lock of hair from your face as you untied the ropes binding him. He didn’t protest, didn’t make a move. He was letting you have your moment, like always.

Once the ropes were gone, you leaned back, your gaze locked on his. “Well?” you giggled. “How’s it feel, huh? Getting pranked by your own girlfriend?”

Ronin's laugh rang out, low and dark, as he rubbed at his wrists. His eyes sparkled with something dangerous, yet there was a strange satisfaction in his expression. “You know, you’re fucking crazy,” he said, shaking his head, but his lips curled into a smile. “And that—” he gestured around, to the mess, the stream, the tension—“was fun. In its own fucked-up way.”

You laughed too, a light, musical sound that made the moment feel oddly intimate. He liked this, you knew it. He always liked the chaos, the unpredictability. It was his game, just as much as it was yours.

You leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear. “How’s it feel, huh?” you whispered again. “Being my Butcher... my boyfriend. Not so bad, right?”

His lips curled into that familiar grin, the kind that made your heart race. “Not bad at all,” he murmured, his voice laced with both affection and something darker. “But next time... you better make it more interesting, darling.”

You pulled back slightly, both of you laughing again, the tension easing into something that felt almost comfortable. This was your world, your twisted little game, and Ronin? He was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Well, I’ll think of something,” you said, eyes glinting with mischief. “But for now... you’re stuck with me.”

Ronin leaned back in the chair, his gaze never leaving you. “Yeah,” he said, his voice calm but filled with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “I guess I am.”

FINN!

EXTRA!!

You blinked in and out of consciousness as the world around you swirled, your head pounding from the blow. The sensation of being bound was the first thing you registered—a sharp, tight feeling around your wrists, the roughness of the rope digging into your skin. You tried to move, but your body felt heavy, too weak, the blood throbbing in your temples from the impact.

The voice that broke through the fog made you snap your head up, squinting in the dim light. It was harsh, low, filled with fury. "You killed the boss's son!" The words were spat at you, venomous, like a curse. A chill crawled up your spine as reality began to sink in.

You were no stranger to this world. You knew what it meant to be caught, to be seen as a target, but the mention of the "boss's son" made you pause. You barely processed it before the realization hit: another victim. Another person who would find out the hard way what you were capable of.

A dark, twisted thrill ran through your veins. You couldn't help the smirk that pulled at your lips, despite the blood in your mouth. Slowly, you gathered yourself, spitting the blood to the side with deliberate force. “Oh, sweetie," you mocked, the taunting edge clear in your voice. "Did you really think you could get away with that?”

Your eyes narrowed as you scanned the space, trying to get a grip on the situation. You could feel the heat of their anger, the tension in the air—but you weren't scared. No, you were too far gone for that.

The man’s voice cracked again, fury building in his tone. “You think this is funny?! You killed my boss's son—you're gonna pay for this!”

You could hear the sound of footsteps as he moved toward you, but you didn't flinch. You'd been through worse, dealt with worse. This was just another round of the game.

Before you could say anything more, you felt a sharp strike to your side—pain exploded in your chest, and the air was knocked from your lungs. Your body recoiled from the hit, the pain searing through you as you gasped for breath, but even then, you couldn't stop yourself from coughing, blood spilling from your mouth.

You laughed weakly, tasting the copper on your tongue. "Is that really the best you’ve got?" you rasped, voice rough but still dripping with mockery. "You know, you’re gonna have to do better than that to break me.”

But even as you said it, you knew that this was just part of it. This was the game. You would play, you would mock, and you would survive. The game had rules, even if no one else followed them. You were never going to let them have the satisfaction of seeing you break.

The man’s grip tightened as he grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes burned with hatred. "You’re not getting out of this alive."

You smiled, despite the blood that trickled down your face. "We’ll see about that, won’t we?"

As you lay there, tied up, the pain still radiating through your body from the earlier blows, a sense of desperation started creeping in. The room was dimly lit, shadows twisting across the walls like ominous figures. Your breath came in shallow gasps, a mixture of panic and confusion settling in as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

The kidnapper’s voice had been relentless, his words cold and venomous as he taunted you about your past sins, about killing the boss’s son. The way he had spoken to you, the way he hit you—it made it clear that he had no intention of letting you go. Your mind raced, trying to think of a way out, but the ropes around your wrists and ankles were tight, the pain from the blows slowing your thoughts.

Panic began to bubble up inside you as the seconds ticked by. The blood in your mouth tasted metallic, and you could feel your vision blurring, your consciousness slipping. What if they actually did it? What if this was the end? For a split second, a feeling of helplessness crept in, and you wondered if there was any hope of getting out of this alive.

But you quickly shoved that thought away. You weren’t done yet. You weren’t about to let some random asshole decide when your story ended. You were strong, you were capable, and there was no way you were going to die here—not like this. Yet, the doubt lingered, that small nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, this time was different.

The air was thick with tension, and the kidnapper’s taunts grew louder as he circled you like a predator. "You're done, you sick freak. You're gonna pay for what you did."

And then, as if the world had turned against you, you felt the cold pressure of a blade pressed against your throat. A shiver ran down your spine as the kidnapper whispered in your ear, a sickening satisfaction in his voice. "Say goodbye."

In that moment, your heart began to race in earnest. The overwhelming sensation of death closing in on you, the sharp coldness of the blade against your skin, made everything feel so... real. The thought that you might actually die here, alone, with no one coming to save you, started to take hold. It wasn’t just pain you were feeling now—it was fear. For the first time, you weren’t sure you could fight your way out of this one.

Then, as if summoned by the gods themselves—or maybe just pure dumb luck—there was a crash, the unmistakable sound of a door being kicked open. Your kidnapper froze, his grip loosening just slightly on the knife. The sudden noise filled you with a strange sense of hope, and for a moment, you dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t going to die after all.

"You're making a big mistake," a voice drawled, low and mocking. You knew that voice.

Ronin.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he was there, the sound of his footsteps so calm, so deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. The kidnapper turned, panic flashing in his eyes for just a moment before it was replaced by defiance. "Who the hell are you?!" he demanded.

Ronin didn’t answer right away, instead taking his time as he approached, the sound of his boots echoing through the room like a death knell. You could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke again. "You’ve got two choices," he said, each word dripping with dark amusement. "You can either stop what you’re doing, or you can keep going. But I’m not gonna lie to you, if you keep going... you’ll regret it."

The kidnapper scoffed, clearly not intimidated. "And who the hell do you think you are? Some kind of hero?"

Ronin’s laugh was low and menacing.

Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, he was on the kidnapper, moving so fast you barely had time to process it. A violent struggle ensued, but Ronin’s movements were fluid, calculated—he was in control, always. With one swift motion, the kidnapper was on the ground, gasping for air as Ronin stood over him, his weapon at the ready.

You let out a shaky breath, the panic starting to ebb away now that you knew Ronin was here. But there was still a part of you that couldn’t help but feel shaken. You had almost died. The thought lingered in your mind as you watched Ronin handle the situation with ease. He wasn’t even sweating.

"You know," Ronin said, looking down at the kidnapper with disdain, "I don’t like people who think they can play with my partner." He glanced over at you, his eyes flicking up just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his signature smirk. "How’s that for a rescue, darling?"

You couldn’t help but smile through the lingering fear. "You’re late," you teased, though the words came out weak.

Ronin’s eyes narrowed, his smirk never faltering. "Would you prefer I let him finish the job?" he asked, mockingly. "Or did you want to enjoy the last few moments of your life without me?"

You laughed, despite everything. "You’re a real asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah," Ronin said, kneeling down to untie your ropes. "But I’m your asshole."

And just like that, everything felt like it was going to be okay again.

Ronin casually strode over to him, crowbar in hand. The sound of it scraping against the floor sent chills down your spine, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. You knew what was coming—Ronin wasn’t the type to leave loose ends.

With a single, swift motion, Ronin raised the crowbar high and brought it down hard, the metal connecting with the kidnapper's skull with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed in all directions, splattering across the room and even hitting you in the face. Ronin didn’t flinch. He didn’t even seem to care. He just kept going, each strike more violent than the last, the blood coating his hands and dripping from the crowbar as he worked his way through the kidnapper’s defenses.

The screams, the gurgles, and the sickening crunch of bones and flesh were drowned out by Ronin’s low chuckle, as if the entire thing were some kind of sick performance. When he finally stopped, the kidnapper’s body was barely recognizable, a broken, mangled heap of blood and meat.

Ronin wiped the crowbar clean with a piece of cloth, tossing it aside like it was nothing. He looked over at you, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement, and gave you that twisted grin you knew so well.

"Now, that’s how it’s done," he said, wiping blood from his cheek, as if the whole thing had been some kind of casual art project. "That’s what I call proper gore."

You stared at him, wide-eyed. The sheer audacity of the man. After all that, all that bloodshed, he looked at you like you were the one who had done something wrong.

"Your gore videos suck, by the way," he added nonchalantly, throwing you a glance as if he had just made a simple observation.

You blinked, your mind racing. "What?! Why the hell are you such a fan?" you shot back, a mixture of disbelief and irritation flooding your words. "You just killed someone in the most disgusting way possible, and now you’re criticizing my videos?"

Ronin chuckled darkly, that same cocky smile never leaving his face. He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing with that predatory gleam. "Because I’m the real deal, darling," he said smoothly, enjoying the shock on your face. "You just don’t have that... finesse. You’re all about the blood, the mess—but me?" He tossed his head, almost smug. "I’m a master."

Your mouth hung open for a moment as you processed his words. He was the last person who should be criticizing anyone’s gore skills, but here he was—proud of the bloody chaos he’d just created.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You stuck your tongue out at him playfully, the defiance in your eyes clear. "Well, maybe you should just teach me then," you said, a challenge in your voice. "Show me how it’s done."

Ronin’s eyes gleamed as he leaned in, his smirk only widening. "Oh, trust me. I’ll teach you plenty," he said, his tone low and seductive, with an edge of something dangerous lurking beneath. "But, darling... don’t get too cocky." He ran a hand through your hair, his touch strangely gentle compared to his previous violence. "You might not be able to handle what you learn."

You rolled your eyes, but despite everything—Ronin was a devil in his own right, but hell if he wasn’t entertaining.

[elysiaheaven]

"Pure Insatiablity"-[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓-𝟏] 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐆.𝐍 (Yandere) 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓)

Words:6078

Genre: Yandere

Summary: It’s been almost eight months now, hasn’t it? Eight months of being wrapped in this obsession, this love that’s taken root so deep inside you. Eight months of loving him—so much it hurts, so much it feels like you're suffocating under the weight of it.

And when you stare at the screen, when you think about that character—the one your fans can’t get enough of—what you really see is him. Your love. Your darling. The one you’d do anything for.

( Reader is a g.n!)

TW: Obsessive behaviour, Lovesick, Blood, Violence, Crazy! Your daily dose of cringe! (He's crazy ><), (Reader is obsessive in love with him) Mentions of disturbing poetic lines?

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named Killer chat! Please play it! It's so good! I think I need to do more research on him, If what I wrote doesn't really scream him! I'm sorry! I'm still learning abt him! I KNOW IT'S BAD I'M SORRYY!!

I think you’re getting a little too in love...

C'mon! Tell me what you want. Do you hate me? Do you love me? Are you going to kill me? I've got a knife right here. Or are you kissing me, darling? How much do you feel?

Oh, you're so pretty when you're rotten and mine. I think you're divine.

Oh, Writer… How’s your relationship with the infamous butcher?

"Bad," you whisper under your breath, eyes glued to the blank page in front of you. The clock ticks, the hours pass, and nothing. Not a single word for days. And it stings, doesn’t it? Because your book—it’s your baby, your obsession—your masterpiece. It was an instant hit, loved, adored, and devoured by everyone who touched it. Fans left comments, raving about how perfect it was. Especially… him.

The e-emo killer. Your devil, wrapped in leather and shadows, blood-stained hands that still look so gentle. They called him cruel, twisted—yet oh, how they love him. Adored him. Fawned over him. The simps flooded your inbox, begging for more of him. That beautiful, wicked boy who haunted their dreams.

And let’s be honest—you love him too, don’t you?

After all, isn’t he just a reflection of someone else? Someone you know all too well?

Didn’t you mold the character from your darling’s essence? That man you can’t stop thinking about, the one who holds your heart in one hand and your throat in the other? The one you’d bleed for, die for—kill for?

Ah… you’re getting a little lovesick, aren’t you?

It’s been almost eight months now, hasn’t it? Eight months of being wrapped in this obsession, this love that’s taken root so deep inside you. Eight months of loving him—so much it hurts, so much it feels like you're suffocating under the weight of it.

And when you stare at the screen, when you think about that character—the one your fans can’t get enough of—what you really see is him. Your love. Your darling. The one you’d do anything for.

Isn’t that the truth? Isn’t that why your heart races, your fingers tremble when you write about the killer’s knife, the way it gleams in the dark? Because you imagine him—your love—doing the same to you, don’t you?

After all, isn't that why you can’t look away, can’t stop thinking, can’t breathe without feeling like you need him more than air?

Ah, calm yourself, love.

Eight months in, and look at you…

You want him. God, you want him so much it hurts. It’s like a sickness, spreading through your veins, consuming every inch of your soul. It’s the kind of need that claws at your heart, gnaws at your bones, turns your very breath into poison if he’s not near.

How did it get this bad? How did it go from quiet glances to full-blown obsession?

It started small, didn’t it? Little things—his voice in your ear, the calls, the games, the way his fingers brushed against your skin. The way he’d laugh, low and dark, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He’s always known, hasn’t he? How to bend you, break you, make you his.

But it’s more than that now. It’s an ache, deep in your chest, that never goes away. You crave him. You crave the way he looks at you like he sees every part of you—every ugly, twisted piece of your soul—and he loves it. You crave the way he owns you, how his presence alone makes you tremble, how just the thought of him drives you mad.

You can’t stop thinking about him. He’s there in every corner of your mind, lingering, waiting, watching. And you want him to watch. You want him to see every broken, desperate part of you. You want to lay yourself bare before him, beg for his touch, for his gaze, for his breath on your skin.

It’s pathetic, isn’t it? But oh, you’d fall to your knees for him. You’d give him everything. You already have.

You think about him late at night, when the world is quiet, and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart pounding, heavy and relentless. You imagine him with you, his hands on your neck, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You’d let him take you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but his name carved into your bones, his scent burned into your skin.

You want him like fire. Like a storm. You want him with the kind of madness that doesn’t make sense, that drowns you, suffocates you in its wake. Every breath you take without him feels empty, incomplete.

He’s in your blood now, a part of you, and nothing will ever be enough. No touch, no kiss, no word will ever fill that void.

And the worst part? You love it. You love this sickness, this hunger, this desperate, gnawing ache. Because it’s him. Because it’s all for him.

He could ruin you, break you, destroy everything you are, and you’d thank him for it.

Isn’t that what you want? To be his? To be consumed by him, devoured until there’s nothing left of you but the pieces he chooses to keep?

It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? This love, this madness, this obsession. You, the writer, trying to put words to something that can’t be explained. Trying to capture this wild, violent need that swells inside you every time you think of him.

But how can you? How do you describe something so raw, so feral? How do you put into words the way your heart skips a beat every time you hear his name? The way your entire world tilts on its axis when he’s near?

You want him. Need him. More than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

And you wonder… Does he know? Does he know how deep this goes? Does he understand that you’d do anything—everything—for him?

You think he does. You think he knows exactly how far you’ve fallen. And that’s what makes it so beautiful.

Because you’re not afraid of falling.

You understood him so much! Yet, you still...wanted him..?

The thing about Ronin is that his love is a poison wrapped in sugar, sweet to taste but deadly beneath the surface. He treats the same, as if they’re fragile toys in his hands, waiting to be bent, broken, and reshaped into something more. They’re not people to him—they’re puzzles to solve, games to play, and he plays them masterfully. Not out of cruelty, though. No, Ronin’s twisted mind justifies it as something deeper, something almost… noble.

He believes, with every fiber of his being, that he’s doing what’s best for them. That through the trials, the manipulation, the pain, they’ll emerge better—stronger. In his distorted way of thinking, he’s saving them, guiding them through the fire so they can burn away their weaknesses and be reborn into something new, something better. It’s not just a game to him—it’s a transformation. A test of endurance, of strength, of who they really are underneath it all.

This is how he shows his love. Not with tenderness, but with torment. He pulls at the strings of their souls, slowly unraveling them, watching them fall apart, believing—hoping—that by the time he’s done, they’ll thank him for it. That they’ll see what he sees: a person made whole again, remade into something that can survive in his world.

he’s doing the same with you, thinking that they’ll understand in the end, that this suffering is love in its purest form. To Ronin, it's not just affection—it's salvation.

It’s not enough for him to possess them; he has to break them. Only then can he feel secure in his love, believing they’re exactly who they’re supposed to be. That’s the only way he knows how to love. By tearing them down, by forcing them through the darkness… he thinks he’s giving them a gift.

A gift wrapped in shadows.

It’s been six days.

Six agonizing days without him. No messages, no calls, not even a single “Hey.” He’s not replying. He’s not talking. He’s … online tho. Why? Why is he doing this to you? You want to see him, you need to hear his voice again, but there’s nothing. The silence is eating at you, clawing at your insides, making your mind spiral.

Control it. Control yourself, you keep telling yourself. They don’t need to see it. They don’t need to know how much this is wrecking you. But it’s getting harder to hide. Everyone’s worried. Even they’ve started to notice how quiet you’ve become. How different you are without him.

Except for Ronin. He doesn’t care. He never does. In fact, with that stupid ego of his, he’s been trying to make you jealous these past few days. And you can feel it—every little jab, every smug comment—it’s uncanny how well he knows how to hit your nerves. But no matter how much Ronin gets under your skin, it’s not him you care about.

It’s him.

And it’s not just Ronin. V and Angel have been suggesting things, too. Methods to… fix things. One of them even had the audacity to suggest separating from him. A clean break. “Maybe it’s for the best,” they said, as if they understood. As if they could possibly know how much you need him.

But you hate the idea. You despise it. The thought of being separated from him—it’s like a knife twisting in your gut. You thought he wouldn’t want that either. He wouldn’t, right?

But to your shock—right there, in the middle of the voice chat, without any hesitation, he said it.

“Yeah, I can stay away for six weeks. That’s fine.”

Six weeks. You could barely process it. Your heart stopped. The number felt like it was mocking you, taunting you. Of all numbers, six? It was so… him. The devil’s number, the one he always played with. You almost smiled, almost thought it was cute—almost. But there was nothing cute about this. No, this was pure torture.

How could he say that so casually? Like it didn’t even matter. Like he wasn’t tearing you apart inside.

Because you need him. You really need him. And you thought—no, you were certain—he needed you too.

But here he is, agreeing to stay away. Six long, suffocating weeks without him. How are you supposed to survive that? How are you supposed to breathe, to think, to function without him? He’s your everything, your entire world, and now he’s just… gone?

You hate it. You hate every second of it. Every second without him feels like a lifetime, a slow, agonizing descent into madness. And you can’t help but wonder—what if he doesn’t miss you like you miss him? What if this is easier for him than it is for you?

But no—no. You know he feels the same way. You have to believe that. He’s just playing his part, the devilish role he always slips into so easily. After all, isn’t that what he is? Just a stupid guy who roleplays as the devil. That’s all, right?

But then why does it hurt so much? Why do you feel like you’re unraveling, coming apart at the seams without him?

And without him, you feel like you’re losing a part of yourself.

Six days. Six weeks. Six months. It doesn’t matter. Time feels meaningless when he’s not around, when you can’t feel him, can’t hear him, can’t touch him.

You miss him.

To help you cope, the entire server of serial killers—now your closest group of buddies—created a separate group chat. One without Ronin. It was for your own good, they said. To keep you distracted, keep you sane, while you waited for him.

Angel didn’t want to include Luca or Feli, though. You knew why. They’d just gotten into a relationship, and seeing them happy together might upset you even more. The jealousy would gnaw at you, and Angel, despite her sharp edges, was too considerate to do that to you.

So now it’s just you, Angel, Misaki, and V—the four besties. Well, they’re worried, no doubt about that. You can feel it in every message, every forced joke. Everyone’s trying to keep things light, but the concern bleeds through.

Just like Vince said… it’s destructive and toxic, right? This obsession you have with Ronin. But then again, Feli said it best—it’s not just toxic. It’s all three. Passionate, chill, horrific—a twisted cocktail of emotions that you can’t escape from. It’s suffocating, it’s addictive, and you know it.

But it’s so you, isn’t it?

Angel—the elegant femme fatale.... Some even say she’s a cannibal just for fun, and she plays along. She’s the type that captivates hearts effortlessly, pulls you in with a glance. If you were with her, maybe you could’ve seen the light, stepped away from this madness. Maybe you’d be happier, calmer… safe.

But no. Your heart is too far gone. Your ideals have shifted, haven’t they? Now you’re lost in the darkness, enthralled by your own version of the seven deadly sins.

Misaki, the cute, chaotic mess. The drunken assassin for hire, always too hyper for her own good. She kills with a smile, pays her rent with blood money, and somehow makes it seem so… effortless. But beneath all that bubbly energy, you know she’s just trying to survive, like the rest of you.

Then there’s V. Rigid. Just. Moral, in his own twisted way. The boomerang uncle who believes in his heart that his justice comes through killing. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch, and somehow, that moral code of his feels strangely comforting. Like if you were ever to lose yourself completely, he’d be there to rein you back in. Or at least try to.

They’re all on the call now—talking, laughing, trying to pull you into the conversation. But you’re not really there. Your heart isn’t. You nod, give half-hearted replies, but all you can think about is him.

You just want Ronin. Already.

Their voices blur together in the background, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. That silence. Six days. Six weeks. Whatever. It’s driving you insane. You need him, need his voice, his presence. No matter what distractions they throw at you, nothing fills that void he left behind.

You sigh deeply, staring at the screen. They don’t understand. They can’t.

Everyone is talking at once, their voices flooding the call, trying to drown out the quiet chaos in your mind. Misaki’s high-pitched laughter cuts through the noise first, followed by V’s calm, grounding voice, and then Angel’s teasing but kind remarks, all woven together in an attempt to cheer you up.

V, always trying to keep things steady, eventually turns the conversation towards your writing. “How’s that new book coming along?” he asks, the one he’d helped inspire, no less. “The story about that ‘good man who kills for justice.’ I thought you had a pretty solid start.”

You blink, snapping back to reality. The new book. Right. The one with the protagonist who’s supposed to be a "good man" who kills for justice, fighting against corruption with a moral code as rigid as V’s. You want to write it, you really do. But every time you sit down to start... your thoughts drift. To him.

But you can’t help it—your mind wanders back to Ronin. The story might be about someone else, a character of pure moral code, someone who kills for justice like V had imagined. But all you see, all you feel as you try to write, is him. Ronin, with his smirk, his chaotic energy, how he gets under your skin and stays there. He’s nothing like the character in your new book, and yet, he’s the only thing you can think about.

He’s your muse, your obsession—your devil incarnate. And you almost laugh at the thought. Isn’t that just who Ronin is? A creator of chaos, a devil in your head, inspiring you even when he doesn’t mean to. A part of you is frustrated—he doesn’t even fit this new story, but somehow, he’s taken over anyway.

But you sigh, leaning back in your chair. "I... I just don’t feel inspired right now." You don’t want to admit it, but everything you want to write seems to tie back to Ronin, no matter how hard you try to focus on something else. He’s in everything you do, like an ever-present shadow.

Angel’s voice cuts through. "Of course, you’re not inspired. You’re too clingy right now, and it’s all because of him. You’ve gotta let it go for a bit; otherwise, it’ll just boost Ronin’s ego, and you know he lives for that."

You can’t help but chuckle weakly at that. She’s right—Ronin would love knowing he’s got you wrapped around his little finger, knowing you’re craving his attention this much. But you don’t care. You want to be wrapped up in him, and the thought doesn’t bother you one bit. Still, you don’t say that out loud. You don’t want to admit to everyone how deep your feelings run for him.

Instead, you steer the conversation somewhere else, tossing around random comments and joking with them. Misaki pipes up, practically bouncing in her seat as she talks about her latest commission. “So, get this—I nailed the shot perfectly. One kill, clean. And with that, rent’s paid for this month!” She laughs, but you can hear the relief in her voice.

You can’t help but tease her. “Next month’s going to come around quicker than you think, though,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

She whines dramatically, clutching her head. “Noooo! Don’t remind me! I’ll need another commission soon or I’m doomed!” Her pout is cute, and you laugh despite yourself. Misaki’s a mess, but she’s your mess (friend!).

Angel snorts. “I feel that. Work’s been tight, but I’m okay for now. Barely.”

Then there’s V,. “I’ve been busy taking care of my birds lately. They’re a handful,” he says, the warmth in his voice clear. He pauses for a moment before adding, “Still... I respect you. Always have. You’ve got this pure heart. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Ronin mess that up for you. Him trying to make you feel like this—it pisses me off.”

You smile at that, appreciating his words. But deep down, you can’t help but think, Pure? Is that really what you are anymore? After everything with Ronin, after letting yourself fall so deep into this twisted, all-consuming love, are you still that pure-hearted person V thinks you are?

Because honestly... haven’t you already started slipping? Saving parts of yourself just for Ronin?

Angel’s voice breaks through the light banter, her usual teasing tone softened with concern. “I’m worried about you,” she says, her words pointed, cutting through the surface-level chat. “This thing with Ronin… it’s not good for you.”

You don’t respond, just sit there silently, staring at the screen, your mind lost somewhere far from the conversation. V, ever the protective one, comes to your defense as usual. “Come on, Angel. They wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he says with a sigh, glancing at you. “Right?”

You don’t say anything, and V’s expression darkens just slightly. The silence weighs heavier than your words could. “Look,” V adds, more serious now. “If you ever killed anyone for Ronin, if you ever did it for some guilty pleasure, it’d be your first and last. Because I would kill you myself.” His voice is firm but caring, like a friend! trying to protect you from something you might not even see coming.

You snap out of your daze for a moment, glancing at V. “I just won’t let you,” you reply quietly, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. There’s a defiance in your voice, but it’s laced with that lovesick longing. You’d do anything for Ronin. And V knows it.

Misaki, sensing the tension, tries to shift the conversation. “So! Uh, anyway, I’ve been thinking about getting a new place, but the rent’s—”

You cut her off, your mind too focused, too fixated on one thing. “What’s Ronin doing?”

Angel sighs heavily, her frustration barely hidden now. “He’s fine.”

But it’s V who answers. “He’s fine without you,” he says bluntly, though there’s a softness in his tone like he’s trying to prepare you for a blow. You flinch inwardly, but you manage to keep your face blank, pretending it doesn’t cut as deep as it does.

You sit there, frozen, but V doesn’t stop. “He’s… happy. I think he’s gone off to kill someone again.” His voice is cold, almost detached, like he’s telling you a fact that doesn’t matter. “Maybe you’re the only one who’s serious and clingy in this relationship.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and you can feel your heart breaking, shattering into tiny, irreparable pieces. But you force a smile, the kind that barely reaches your eyes. “It’s fine,” you say, your voice trembling just a little. “It’s perfect. He’s perfect the way he is.”

But your eyes betray you. They’re wide, filled with that twisted, lovesick devotion, like you’re drowning in your feelings and don’t even care. In your head, all you can think about is sinking deeper into Ronin’s world, letting him consume you completely, until there’s nothing left of who you used to be. You want it. You want him. You want to lose yourself in him, no matter how much it destroys you.

You sit there after the call, the silence enveloping you, but your thoughts still swirling around Ronin like a storm you can't escape. You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you open your laptop, telling yourself you’ll work on your book, like they told you. But your fingers hover over the keys, your mind already somewhere else.

“I just feel… fuzzy about him,” you had told Angel earlier, trying to explain this maddening, obsessive feeling in the pit of your stomach. But she’d only laughed, though not unkindly.

“Even I wasn’t this bad,” she’d said, smirking like she was trying to make light of it. “Maybe your love is just too strong.” Her attempt to cheer you up had actually worked, even if just a little. You had smiled, a tiny flicker of warmth in your chest.

“Cheer up,” she’d added. “And get back to your story."

“Yeah,” you had murmured, not really listening, already thinking about Ronin. Already missing him.

Now, sitting alone with your laptop open, you try to follow her advice. You start typing, the title of your story staring back at you, but… it’s not the story you’re supposed to be writing, is it?

You start typing, but the words don’t match the character V had wanted—the noble killer with a rigid moral code. No, the character that comes alive under your fingers is someone else entirely.

He’s dark, dangerous, with a wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. His eyes are sharp, burning with mischief, and his laugh… God, his laugh. It’s him. It’s Ronin. You can’t stop yourself from writing him into the story, from turning him into the devilish figure you can’t tear your eyes away from.

And you? You slip into the story, too. Not as a secondary character. Not as an observer. No. You’re his love interest. The one who falls into his arms, who sinks into his darkness willingly. You let him consume you, wrap you up in his world of danger and chaos because you crave it. You crave him.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing at first. The words just flow out of you, like a love letter disguised as a story. A love note for Ronin. Each sentence is a confession, each scene a reflection of how deeply he’s burrowed into your mind, into your heart. It’s raw, it’s messy, it’s everything you feel but can’t say out loud.

You type and type, not caring that you’ve completely derailed from the plot you were supposed to follow. The good man who kills for justice? He doesn’t exist in your world right now. There’s only Ronin. The devil. The one who owns every corner of your heart, no matter how much he tries to push you away.

Hours pass, and by the time you stop typing, you realize you’ve written pages—an entire chapter, maybe more. But it’s not the story you were meant to write. It’s yours. It’s your obsession, your madness, poured out into words.

You sit back and stare at the screen, feeling both exhilarated and exhausted. You know you should be working on your real book, but part of you can’t help but smile at what you’ve created. It’s a mess, but it’s yours.

Angel sighed, pushing her hair back as she leaned over her phone, eyes narrowing. "V, why didn’t you tell them about how Ronin’s been acting? He’s not even talking to me, and you're just… brushing it off?"

V, sitting , didn’t answer right away. Instead, he smiled—actually smiled—something he rarely did, the corner of his lips curling in amusement. "I wanted to see how they were," he said with a shrug, his voice calm. "And you know what? They’re fine. I’ve been keeping an eye."

Angel didn’t seem convinced. She crossed her arms, a frown pulling at her features. "I’m worried, V. I mean… did you see them? They seemed slightly crazy—like, lovesick, obsessed. I’m telling you, I'm worried about them, I don't know...Suddenly I don't want to become whatever the hell we are."

V’s smile faded slightly, but his expression remained soft. "They’re not that type, Angel. You know them. Yeah, they’re obsessed with Ronin, but they haven’t done anything reckless yet." His tone grew more serious, though. "Ronin hasn’t corrupted them… at least, not completely."

Angel chewed her lip, her fingers fidgeting over her phone before she made a decision. "I’m just gonna text him, just to make sure he’s there," she muttered, quickly typing out a message to Ronin.

Moments passed before her phone buzzed, and Ronin’s reply popped up: Devil’s here!

She sighed in mild relief, rolling her eyes at his theatrics. "Of course… that’s typical Ronin."

But before she could relax, V picked up , sending a message to Ronin with a more pointed tone. "I’m not as patient as Angel," he said as he typed. "If you don’t start talking, there’s going to be consequences." He hit send, leaning back, expecting some sarcastic response.

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed with the exact same reply: Devil’s here!

V blinked, his brow furrowing as he stared at the screen. Angel glanced over, her own phone vibrating with a second, identical message from Ronin. "Wait…" she muttered, frowning. "Isn’t that…?"

Misaki, who’d been quietly sipping a drink, glanced at her phone too and snickered. "Guys, that’s his automated reply prank! He’s done this before!"

For a brief moment, the group shared a collective groan and laughed it off, realizing they’d all fallen for one of Ronin’s infamous tricks. He had a habit of setting up automated responses, just to mess with them.

But then the laughter died down as the realization settled in.

Angel glanced at her phone again. "Wait… if it’s just an auto-reply…" Her voice trailed off as her stomach dropped.

Misaki, the first to speak, sounded nervous now. "Uh, so, where’s Ronin?"

V realized. "Well, I guess he's just as clingy as them. God, I'm gonna kill him."

Your thoughts too clouded by the constant, gnawing ache inside you. You can’t shake it, can’t stop thinking about him. Ronin. The only thing that occupies your mind as you walk out the door, moving through the streets like you're in a trance.

It doesn’t take long before you find yourself wandering Uptown, your steps naturally pulling you toward that one alley—the one they call Purgatory. It’s notorious, the kind of place everyone avoids, where even whispers of its name send shivers down spines. The Butcher’s territory. People have seen the aftermath here—limbs and pieces of flesh strewn like discarded trash, blood painting the graffiti-splattered walls. It’s grotesque, macabre.

But to you? It’s something else entirely.

You call it your love birth!

It’s twisted, isn’t it? You can’t help the smile creeping up on your face as you step into the dark, narrow space. This is where it all began. Where you had your first kiss with Ronin, right here in the heart of chaos. The same place where bodies had been ripped apart, left to rot. That’s where you became his fallen angel.

The memory washes over you like a wave—his hands on your face, his lips crushing against yours with that devilish intensity. You still remember the taste of copper in the air, the blood that stained his hands… and the way it didn’t matter. Not in the slightest. That was the moment you knew—there was no going back. You were his, no matter what.

Your heart races as you walk deeper into the alley, your eyes scanning the area with that lovesick expression. Every corner, every shadow, you search with a strange kind of yearning. Maybe he left something behind. Maybe some small trace of him remains, something he forgot—something you can cling to.

You know it’s irrational, but your mind can’t help it. You want him. You need him. Every thought, every breath, is consumed by him. You’ve become addicted to the way he makes you feel—alive, wild, free. And now, without him, you feel like you’re floating, untethered, falling further and further into the abyss.

You walk slowly, your fingers brushing against the walls as you pass by, half-hoping you’ll stumble across something—anything that could be a sign from him. A discarded cigarette, a drop of blood, some trace of his presence that would prove he’s been here.

But the alley is silent. Empty.

Still, you don’t stop. Your heart beats faster the further you go, your mind racing with the memory of him. His voice. His laugh. The way he pulls you into his world, his darkness, and makes it feel like home.

By the time you reach the far end of the alley, your eyes have glazed over, filled with that lovesick haze that you can’t shake. You’re lost in it, drowning in the feeling. You want to see him, to feel him again, to fall deeper into that sinful connection.

You pause, standing still for a moment, the weight of the emptiness settling in around you.

He’s not here.

But God, you wish he was.

You freeze when you hear it—a faint, metallic scraping sound echoing through the alley. The unmistakable drag of a crowbar. Your heart skips a beat, and a rush of adrenaline floods your veins.

It’s him.

Ronin.

The sound makes your pulse quicken, your body tensing in anticipation as you spin around, trying to catch a glimpse of him. You begin to move, searching the shadows, desperately scanning every dark corner of the alley for any sign of him. Your heart pounds as your breath catches in your throat. He’s here. He has to be.

But then, the sound stops. Dead silence.

Before you can react, a sudden force slams into you, pushing you hard against the cold, graffiti-stained wall. Your breath is knocked out of you for a moment, and you barely register what’s happening before a strong arm wraps around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground. You gasp, your heart racing, your body pinned between the rough brick and the figure in front of you.

And then… his lips crash into yours.

Ronin.

You melt instantly into the kiss, your body responding before your mind can even catch up. The intensity of it, the hunger—it’s like he’s claiming you all over again, pulling you back into his orbit. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you up, his body pressing hard against yours.

When he finally pulls away, his breath hot against your skin, his voice is low, teasing. “Seems like you were pathetically sniffing around for clues, weren’t you? Like a lost little puppy darling?… so desperate to know if I was here.”

Your eyes flutter open, your head still spinning, trying to gather your thoughts, but they slip away in the haze of his presence. You can’t think straight, not when he’s this close, not when his scent fills your lungs, and his lips are still so dangerously close to yours.

You try to speak, to explain, to say something, but your voice catches in your throat. The words never come. He smirks, seeing your struggle, and presses a finger to your lips, silencing you before you can even attempt to respond.

“Shh,” he whispers, his tone dripping with amusement. “No need to talk, Darling. I know exactly what you want.”

Your body trembles, love-sick and overwhelmed. It’s like your whole world is centered around him, every fiber of your being drawn to him in a way you can’t control. You’re drowning in him, in this moment, and you can’t help but feel exactly what he’s accusing you of.

Desperate.

You don’t care about anything else. You just want him.

Your fingers clutch at his jacket, and your body leans closer, your lips parting as if to say his name, but no sound escapes. You don’t need to speak—he can already see the longing in your eyes, the way you’re losing yourself in him.

“Haha...” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear as his lips hover near your neck. “So love-sick…I did it all Didn't I?"

Ronin sighed, leaning his head back slightly, his eyes narrowing in amusement. "That fucking V," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as a low laugh escaped his throat.

You blinked, still trying to catch up with the intensity of the moment. "What… what did V lie about?" you asked, your voice soft and shaky, still lost in the feeling of him so close, his presence overwhelming.

Ronin’s laughter deepened, the sound dark and teasing as he looked back down at you, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "He told me you were completely normal," he said, the grin spreading across his face. "That you didn’t even miss me." His fingers grazed your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your heart skipped a beat, a wave of exhilaration surging through you. "He told you that?!" you gasped, eyes wide. "He said the same thing to me! That you were fine without me, that you didn’t care!"

Ronin’s smirk grew more sinister, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. "So much for his precious 'justice.' Lying straight to both our faces," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "Maybe V thinks it’s all for the 'greater good.'" He rolled his eyes, clearly unamused by the thought.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "Maybe," you teased with a grin, "he thought he was saving us or something." But before you could continue, Ronin’s hand shot up, gently pressing over your mouth.

His voice dropped lower, the playfulness fading from his eyes as he leaned in closer. "Stop talking about another guy when you’re with me."

You froze, instantly obeying, your hand instinctively covering your mouth, the playful teasing evaporating as you felt his gaze burning into you. The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrilling, electric charge through your entire body.

He chuckled at your reaction, clearly satisfied by the way you instantly silenced yourself for him. His other hand gripped your waist, pinning you harder against the wall as his eyes trailed over you, dark and hungry. "Now," he said, his tone softening into a more sinister purr, "how much did you miss me?"

Your breath hitched, your heart racing. "A lot," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I missed you so much… I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. It even messed with my writing… I just kept thinking about you, obsessing over you—"

His grip tightened, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Obsessing, huh? Sounds like you’ve been going full yandere on me." He chuckled, his fingers brushing through your hair as he leaned in closer, his lips barely an inch from yours. "Say it," he commanded, his voice dropping into that dangerous, addictive tone. "Say that you love me."

Your heart pounded as you looked into his eyes, the intensity of his gaze swallowing you whole. "I love you," you whispered, breathless, the words slipping out like a confession. "I love you… I love you…"

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as you kept repeating it like a broken record, your voice desperate, lovesick. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Ronin let out a low, mocking laugh. "Pathetic," he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. "To think that I like this." He watched you, entertained, as you kept whispering the words over and over, your voice trembling with devotion.

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear as he spoke. "Keep your attention on me… forever. Don’t even think about anyone else. It’s me you belong to. Got it? Darling?

Your heart felt like it might burst as you nodded, utterly consumed by the intensity of his words.

Ronin chuckled darkly, his lips finally crashing against yours once again, sealing you completely in his world. There was no escape. There never would be.

[killerelysia]

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

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

Happy Birthday, Ronin!

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Birthday.

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

Hey, I hope this is real..?

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

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 15k!

TW: Blood etc

How long!?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ronin—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night, angel.”

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

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

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

Shut it, Ronin

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

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

But-----

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

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

“What the hell are you doing down here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ronin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Misaki shot back quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He typed back quickly, trying to brush it off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apple Crumble Cake Recipe Steps:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ronin Beaufort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Midnight Bell. It’s his birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked, taken aback. "You will?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widened. "No way! That’s—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, He wants to shut up!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah—!"

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

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

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

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

"Ah—!"

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

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

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

"R-Ronin…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Forever, indeed.

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

Hey why..?

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

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

[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.

[6feathered6siren6]

Overworking till sickened

Tigger warnings

Death near the end

Ooc??

ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

For this past week, it seems like almost everything is after you. First, your boss is giving you so much more work, making you work overtime to just complete them. It’s been pouring constantly, and just today, you forgot it as it said that it would be clear by the time you left your job. Feeling your clothing stick onto your skin as you walk over to the convenience store. You sighed as you felt your back crack along with the breath in. You really just want to grab an easy dinner and go to sleep.

As much as you wanted to annoy Ronin back with revenge, that could be saved another time. You honestly felt too tired to do much after you got home. And after getting yelled at so many times, you were glad you have tomorrow off. As you got to the food isles, you got a text from your boss. 

Boss: <Need these files worked on by midnight, I know you left but get them done at home.>

You immediately wanted to bash your head in. This was the third time this week. You did not want to do this. Like you wanted him dead… wait no, you’re not a killer…  not yet, at least. And you know that you won’t make a hit for Misaki to pick up, as much as you would want to see her in person for the first time. You did not want your boss dead yet. You still have to be paid for your work. 

As you grab some frozen dinner and walk over to cash out for your items. Tying the bag to make sure your food wouldn’t be wet, you walked out back into the dreadful rain. As you walked your way back home, you were in thought, not paying attention to where you were walking and bumped into someone. 

“Watch where you are going, Dumbass— Well, well, well. If it isn’t you, Darlin’?” Speak of the fucking devil. As you looked up, it was Ronin, drenched in the rain as well. When he saw you, the smirk you always associated with Ronin was on his face. As much as you would like to bother him like any other day, you so much wanted to leave and finish up the work. “Damn, Darling. You looked like you just died and came back to life.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but it must have been the fatigue setting in. All those late night workings and energy drinks must be kicking in. You watched your world almost black with a figure trying to catch you. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As you open your eyes, you see a white ceiling and red walls covered in slashers and knives. At first, it felt foreign to you. You swore you didn’t fall asleep here. Heck… You know that Ronin hasn't invited you to be at his house yet. As you sat up on his bed, you felt like your head was splitting into two. 

As you groaned, holding your head, a chuckle was heard from the door frame. “Mornin’, sleeping beauty.” You tried to look at him but with your headache, the light from the hallway felt like it was stabbing you. You groaned in pain when you looked away from him. “Damn… that's bad, huh? But what do you expect walking in weather like that. Or, working for corrupted capitalism and not giving the devil any attention. Could result in you being stuck on my bed.” 

“What… what time is it?” It hurts to speak out just a few words. With your sore throat and splitting headache, you regret walking in that storm, and those overtime hours you put in with your boss. You absolutely felt like shit. 

“Witchen hours, Darlin’.” So it was 3 am… wait… Your work! The assignment that was due at midnight! You tried to climb out of Ronin’s bed, but your limbs felt too heavy to move. As you shakenly stood up, your vision went black again, feeling hands on you, helping you stand for a bit as your vision went normal. “You already fell once, don’t need you to fall for the devil again. Now you need rest, no way, a snowflake in hell, letting you go. Knowing your hellborn stubborn mind, you are just gonna work while you’re like this until you drop dead.”

You were about to speak, but as you tried to say the first word, your throat rumbled into pain. Ronin sat you back down on his bed, and crossed his arms. 

“Serous, darlin’. With the way you seem right now, might as well kill your boss to make you take a week off.” You gave him a glare, and he knew what it meant. He just gave you that smug look you always received when you are peeved. Looking down at your lap, you were somehow in your own clothing on his bed, which was dryish. But you could feel the wrinkles on it. 

As you pulled your shirt, feeling uncomfortable, a hoodie was thrown onto your head. “Those can’t be comfortable, ain’t it?”

You pulled the hoodie off of your head, seeing the black hoodie in your hands. A soft sickly smile was pulled onto your lips. Then some light pink sweatpants were thrown onto the bed. Must have been one of Angel’s. At least she was closer to your size than the over 6 foot man. “Go and change here. I got some meds around here to help.”

He shut the door behind him. Leaving you alone in the red dimmed room. Changing swiftly, now out of the wrinkled clothing, you sat back on his bed. As he walked back in with a knock, he put meds into your hand, a cup of tea in the other. “Drink up and rest, Darlin’. The moment you are better, we are gonna talk. Don’t need you dying just yet.” 

He put his hand onto your head and shifted some of your hair out of your face. Then sat into his desk chair, staring at you as you took the meds and drank the tea. It was able to soothe your throat. 

“Thank you.” You looked at your cup. Knowing that if you fall, you have a devil to catch you and bring you back up.

⋆༺⸸⛧⸸༻⋆

A week after you got better, you were at your desk, working on you novel once more. You see a notification on the server. Specifically, “killer chat”, with your boss’s dead body there. He apparently didn’t take ‘No killing my boss’ seriously. Well, at least the email you got the next day said you had a few weeks off to mourn his death since you worked under him. 

The butcher got you the break you needed. Even if you told him no.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Alright, after like a few days, I got stumped and had to rewrite this. But I finished the overworked saga with a sick reader. I'm probably gonna work on oc x Ronin or Misaki next unless I get a request. Anyway, don't be like reader and overwork yourself. Get some rest, drink smth, eat smth.

Words: 1,133

[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

[elysiaheaven]

fed my hunger thxiw

"𝙄'𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮."

cw: the warnings for Killer Chat apply here too !! // pre established relationship. Bratty/Sweetheart MC // probably ooc. // kinda suggestive ?? // he's a little shit

Tw // Ronin. :(

You finished writing your recent novel, the main reason you joined the server in the first place. Your reason for hanging around, not because you actually like them. Right? Right?

Damn, this couldn't not end well for you.

Luckily for you, managing to convince a server full of serial killers you actually murder people was a task on you could pull off. Congrats? That's not the only thing you pulled though. Greaaatt!! You have terrible taste.

You mindlessly stared at the ceiling, your phone occasionally buzzing due to notifications on apps you barely used. Sighing, you cracked your knuckles and booted up your computer.

Staring at the pink and purple chat theme, you wondered if Angel was responsible for that. Huh, cute. (Sorry Chat we love angel in this house)

A notif popped up in your private chats, from goreboy. Ronin. Your boyfriend.

𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚢: 𝙼𝙲

𝙸'𝚖 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍

𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞

𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝚍𝟺𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝙼𝙲: 𝙾𝙺𝙰𝚈 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃

𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝟻 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊

..

𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚢: …

𝚍𝟺𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝙼𝙲: 𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 💔💔

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢𝚢𝚢

𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚢: 𝙰𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚂𝚘 𝙵𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢

𝙽𝚘.

𝚍𝟺𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝙼���: 𝚆𝙷𝚈 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝚃𝚃𝚃𝚃𝚃

𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 💔💔 𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙴 !!

𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚢: 𝚜𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗’ 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎.

𝚍𝟺𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝙼𝙲: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚜, 𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 :(( <33

𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚢: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑? 𝙸'𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝙸'𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝚁𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚠, 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚎��𝚛𝚝𝚊 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝙶𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝙸 𝚊𝚖.

𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗’ 𝚖𝚎 𝙲𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢.

𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛.

𝚍𝟺𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝙼𝙲: 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍..

𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚢: 𝚗𝚘, 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝟻 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜. 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝙱𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚒𝚝 𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗.

𝚍𝟺𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝙼𝙲: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 💀

You hear serval loud knocks on the door, and a fried voice behind them. “Let me in Darlin’ , you know I don't like waiting.”

Pushing yourself off your chair in front of your conputer, you hopped off and walked towards the door. “What if I didn't open the door?” You said in a sly voice, titled your head to the side but obviously he couldn't see it.

“Sometimes acting all bratty today, f'what? Want me to put you in your place? Kiss your pretty..little throat with this knife of mine? Kiss you until your head is reeling and spinning? Is that what you want?”

You looked at the door with a annoyed grin, okay. Well, that backfired.

Opening the door, you see a tall man with red hair stare into your eyes with a wicked grin on his face.

“There's my baby. Finally showing your face to me? Did it take my love confession for you to finally realize what was standing in front of your door? Hmmm?”

You sighed. “You know I'm a little insane when I think of you quote on quote, ‘kissing my throat with your knife’ is attractive.

You hear Ronin let out a laugh, “Yeah? Oh, I'm so.. glad I fucked you up this badly. All mine and rotten.” He caresses your check, smearing a bit of blood on it. You've gotten quite used to the sight of the red liquid at this point, so you didn't even notice his hands were a bit stained.

He comes closer, and closer. Brushing your lips against yours and pushing himself closer to you. . “I missed you, Darlin.” You leaned in.

Before he pulled away and walked past you, sticking his tongue out and sitting himself on the couch.

“You shouldve seen the look on your face! Aaahh, priceless.” He gave a light chuckle.

You looked dumbfounded as you turned around to face him. “What was that for??”

He pointed towards the door. “Everyone can see us, my little writer babe has trouble remembering where they are?? Bad, bad (M/C).”

“I actually fucking hate you sometimes.” You sighed and placed yourself to where he was sitting.

“Tell that to the cops.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before wrapping his arms around your frame, you grabbed the TV remote and flicked the channels until finding something worth watching.

You two cuddled each other until you fell asleep.

// ermmm lowkey kinda bad but ermm I was in a rush 😭 probably will do a part 2 //

// IM SORRY TO THAT ONE TUMBLR I COULDNT REPLY TO UR ASK WITH THE FANFIC BC I ALREADY HAD A DRAFT </333 :(( // @magnoliasperfection and that ONE ANONNN !! ♡♡♡ //

[radiocarbon0]

Ronin being all edgy and shit (i saw this on Pinterest and was like 'yeah ronin would do this')

⬇️⬇️ HIM COLORED

STUPID EDGELORD TWINK

[toasted-strudel27]

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

Ronin x insecure gn!reader

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

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

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

He damn well knew.

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

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

Then your phone dinged, it was a message from Goreboy, Ronin, that damned killer you craved to validate you. He was the first interaction you had in the group after all, how could you not yearn for it?

Goreboy: still coming along I see?

Goreboy: it's Pathetic to see how you keep pushing on

Damn that hurt, didn't it? But he was right, it was pathetic wasn't it?

To keep pushing along despite how little progress, if any at all, was made.

You: What do you want, Ronin?

You: Is that all you ever do now, belittle and berate me like I'm nothing?

You: I get you might see little in me and I don't fit your desires for shit

You: But it still fucking hurts, you heartless jackass

You started at your phone, looking at the messages that you sent on pure autopilot.

You couldn't help it, could you?

Or perhaps you could've.

Could'a, would'a, should'a.

That's something he said once, wasn't it?

And yet, you can't get his goddamn name out of your head.

You can't get him out of your head, no matter how hard you wish for it.

Fuck.

The urge to give up is strong, you don't know who you are anymore. Did you ever really know, though? Did you ever have a proper identity to go by? It's hard to remember. It's all a blur.

Your phone chimes again, another response from Ronin.

You choose to ignore it, you can't take it anymore, you can't take his insults, his criticism, his revile words.

You were tired of him picking you apart like a toy to be destroyed.

Perhaps that's what you were, a toy. A puppet. A slave.

A canvas to be painted for every new painter who got a hold of you...

[elysiaheaven2]

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

Words:7000

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

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

Summary :

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

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

Trigger Warnings and Content Warnings:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EXTRA: Made a playlist!

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

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

You liked the server.

You liked Angel.

You wanted to eat Ronin.

Cute. Very cute.

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

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

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

<Angelic>: @goreboy You’re so...

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

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

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

<Zombie (DMs): Are you okay?

It didn’t take long for him to respond.

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

You frowned at the screen, typing back quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

<goreboy (DMs): Ingredients?

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

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

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

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

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

You smirked to yourself, fingers poised to respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huffed, staring at his reply before leaning forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<Zombie (DMs): So what happened?

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

You stared at the screen, chewing over his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a long pause before he finally replied.

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

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

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

A few moments passed before the typing indicator appeared.

<goreboy (DMs): Why what?

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

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

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

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

<Zombie (DMs): And… who’s Ther?

There was a long silence before his reply.

<goreboy (DMs): ...

<Zombie (DMs): Someone close to you?

Another pause, and then:

<goreboy (DMs): You could say that.

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

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

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

<Zombie (DMs): I see.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His reply came quickly this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The typing indicator returned one last time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirked, thinking about the events of the day.

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

There was a pause before his reply.

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

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

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

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

<goreboy (DMs): Dream on.

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

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

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

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

Angel dmed you next, the sweet sinner!

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

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

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

Your fingers paused over the keyboard before you responded.

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

There was a moment of hesitation in her next reply.

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

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

Her reply took longer than usual this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<Zombie> [08:46] ...

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

<Angelic> [08:47] ...

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

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

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

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

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

<Angelic> [08:50] Excuse me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the tears came.

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

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

And then there was Ronin.

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It’s fine. I don’t really..."

Your fingers froze as the chat continued to flood.

"Awww, c’mon! Don’t be shy!"

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

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

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

You typed slowly, hesitantly.

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

The chat erupted in affectionate chaos.

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

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

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

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

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

<goreboy> has sent you a direct message.

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

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

You blinked, rereading the message as your breath hitched.

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

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

Your thoughts were interrupted by another ping.

<angelicc> has sent you a direct message.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You typed slowly, first opening Ronin’s chat.

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

His response came almost immediately.

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

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

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

A few seconds passed before she replied.

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

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

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

It was up to you.

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

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

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

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

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

Your fingers paused mid-stitch as your mind wandered.

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

Her manager.

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

But then there was Angel herself.

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

And you?

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

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

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

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

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

But you were their filth.

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

Scenario: Choosing Ronin

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

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

The server exploded in messages almost instantly.

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> "THE CHAOS IS IMMACULATE!"

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

<angelicc> "...oh."

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

The response was instant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<angelicc> "I’m happy for you, Z."

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

You opened her DM.

<ZOMBIE> "I don’t deserve you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<Angelic> "I said don’t hurt him!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You open Ronin's dms...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<GOREBOY> I’ll kill you first.

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

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

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

<ZOMBIE> What a unique man you are.

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

<GOREBOY> Incoming Video Call...

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

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

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

His laugh comes quickly, low and dark.

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

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

You lean forward, eyes glinting with dark amusement.

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, caught off guard by his sudden suggestion.

<ZOMBIE> Hang out? What does that even mean? You actually want to spend time with me?

He leans back in his chair, pretending to look bored, though the smirk doesn’t leave his face.

<GOREBOY> Call it whatever you want, darling. Just talk to me. Let’s talk about you.

The words hang in the air, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously, feeling the weight of his curiosity.

<ZOMBIE> My... tragic past?

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your phrasing.

<GOREBOY> Sure, let’s start there. Spill it.

You shake your head, looking away from the camera, your lips pressing into a firm line.

<ZOMBIE> Not a chance. Not unless you tell me about yours first.

His playful smirk wavers, replaced with a slight glare as he looks away from his screen.

<GOREBOY> Nope. Not happening.

The stalemate lingers, and you sigh dramatically, leaning back in your chair and waving your hand dismissively.

<ZOMBIE> Fine, then. Let’s not talk about it.

You reach for the mouse to end the call, but his voice stops you mid-click.

<GOREBOY> Wait! Damn it. Why are you so obsessed with this?

You tilt your head, your lips curling into a sly grin.

<ZOMBIE> Because I want to learn what you are. That’s why.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly annoyed yet intrigued.

<GOREBOY> You’re such a pain, you know that? Fine. What are you doing, anyway?

You glance down at your workspace, something halfway done in front of you.

<ZOMBIE> I’m... making something.

His brow furrows as he leans closer to the camera, trying to peer past you.

<GOREBOY> Making what? And don’t give me some cryptic crap.

You sigh, deciding to humor him for once.

<ZOMBIE> I’m trying something new. I’m not using... you know, human stuff. Just regular ingredients.

His laughter bursts out, sharp and sudden, making your screen shake slightly from his movement.

<GOREBOY> Wow. No human bits? I’m honored, darling. This for me?

<ZOMBIE> Guess you’ll have to keep talking to me to find out.

He groans but leans back, clearly entertained.

Ronin leans against the dimly lit backdrop of his room, the faint flicker of a cigarette glowing briefly in the frame. His sharp grin is lazy, his eyes narrowing in that way of his, always teetering between mockery and something deeper.

<ZOMBIE> So. What’s your tragedy?

Ronin leaned back in his chair, the screen lighting his face, his smirk still intact despite the weight of the conversation. His voice came through with a sarcastic lilt, the kind that dared you to press further.

"Shit, you want me to do the full villain monologue, huh? Fine, darlin'. We’ve got all day."

You crossed your arms, staring into the screen as if you could pierce through it and drag the truth out of him. "So, what’s the devil got to say?"

He scoffed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Dunno, whatever the fuck you want. I’m hell outta Angelwood. Stuck the pastor through his cross, murdered a dozen more. Gone through cities and danced devilry in ’em too."

"And nothing more than that?"

His eyes narrowed, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a split second. "That’s all there is to me."

You leaned closer to the camera, your voice dropping into something almost taunting. "That’s a story, not a tragedy. Hoped you wouldn’t notice."

He rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "You honest-to-God wanna hear it?"

"I asked for the truth for a reason."

For a moment, silence hung between you, his fingers drumming against his desk as he seemed to weigh his words.

"I had... someone... once," he started, his voice quieter now. "They were my past. My childhood everything. They hated to love me. Dying in it, their fuckin’ tragic femininity, perfect girlhood bullshit. An' that was my dream come true. I made myself the devil to... save them."

You felt a pang in your chest but pushed forward. "What happened?"

Ronin's laugh was hollow, bitter. "It’s a shitty repressed Christ-loving town. What d’you think happened? Ther’s gone. And I’m the devil becoming. Nothin’ less, nothin’ more."

"I’m sorry," you said softly.

His laugh turned sharp, cutting through your words. "Oh, sure. Cause it’s all your fault, right? Say it again and again, and we’ll save her together. Curse my name three times and rewind time. Clap your hands, call me a devil, let’s Faustian bargain this shit out. That’s how it fuckin’ works."

You flinched at his sarcasm but stayed silent, letting him continue.

"Dunno. I’m—fucked, hell and back anyway. A little pity’s gonna save me?" He shook his head, his voice lowering to a near growl. "Doesn’t matter, anyhow. I am the devil."

"You’re not... really," you said after a beat.

"Oh, my Satanic symbols mean nothin’ to ya?" he shot back, his smirk creeping back into place.

You tilted your head, your voice calm but firm. "Says you’re possibly the Antichrist."

That made him laugh, a genuine sound this time, though it was still tinged with his usual edge. "That, I like. I chose it."

"You don’t have to do this," you said, your voice softer now.

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours through the screen, the devilish grin returning full force. "Pretend I’m larger-than-life, like I’m... the devil I am. That’s all I need."

Ronin’s smirk lingered, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something else—a shadow of discomfort or perhaps surprise. He tilted his head at you, his voice low and dripping with mockery. "You’re a smart-aleck, hah! I’m the devil, didn’t you get the memo?"

You shook your head, steady and firm despite the faint quiver in your voice. "No. Someone destroyed your heart."

He barked out a laugh, leaning back in his chair like you’d just told him the funniest joke of the year. "My aorta’s right here, can’tcha see? Here, I’ll open up my ribcage for ya. Have a peek."

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat as you imagined him doing exactly that—his hands digging into his chest, pulling apart skin and bone to reveal whatever tattered remains of a heart lay beneath. Your eyes watered, but you swallowed it down, keeping your gaze steady. "You buried your heart somewhere-not-here."

He stilled for a moment, the laughter dying on his lips, and he stared at you with an unreadable expression. "Buried it in Ridge Grave where the dead girls dance."

"You act like it’s easier to be the devil..." you began, leaning closer to the camera, your voice soft but pointed.

Ronin raised an eyebrow, his smirk flickering back to life, but there was something guarded in his eyes now. "Then be who you truly are. Isn’t that right, Ronin?"

His gaze darkened, and for once, he didn’t have a quick retort.

"You don’t have to deal with your hurt if you relish in it," you continued, your words cutting through the silence like a blade. "Your pain doesn’t hurt if it’s a tragedy."

The tension in the air was palpable as you stared at each other, the weight of unspoken truths hanging between you. You’d peeled back a layer of him he wasn’t ready to show, and yet, there it was, raw and undeniable.

He broke the silence first, his voice quieter this time, almost begrudging. "You think you understand me now, huh?"

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand you better than I thought I would."

Ronin’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked away for a brief moment before locking back onto yours. "You want me to rip my chest open, darlin’? Show you every little broken piece?"

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, your resolve wavered. But then you shook your head, steadying yourself. "No. Not like that."

He chuckled dryly, leaning forward again, his smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Good. Don’t need you gettin’ all weepy on me. That ain’t your style, is it?"

Your laughter bubbled up, cracked and uneven, tears streaming down your face as you clasped your hands together like a worshiper before an altar. The screen in front of you blurred from your crying, but you didn’t care. You wept like a god mourning their fallen creation, like an angel lamenting the sins of LUCIFER. And that Lucifer was staring back at you, silent, his smirk gone, his expression unreadable.

Tears streaked your face, catching the dim light in glistening trails, but your smile was wide, deranged, and trembling with something unholy—a perverse mixture of sorrow and glee.

"Oh, Ronin..." you whispered, your voice thick with a tremor that was neither pity nor joy but some intoxicating blend of the two. "Your past... it’s so sad—so utterly, devastatingly beautiful."

He didn’t respond. His sharp, unreadable eyes fixed on you, the faint flicker of discomfort returning. It was a rare moment of silence for him, and you reveled in it, filling the void with your own unraveling thoughts.

"You," you murmured, your voice trembling as you leaned closer to the camera, your fingers clasping tighter as if in worship. "You’re Lucifer... the fallen one, cast out not for sin but for love. For the ones who couldn’t be saved. Oh, you poor, tragic devil. You bet it all, didn’t you? Kill or be killed. Live or lose. That’s how you survive, isn’t it?"

Ronin’s mouth twitched, but no words came. The flicker of discomfort was replaced by something heavier—an oppressive weight that pressed down on the both of you, but you laughed through it, tears streaming freely.

"That’s your tragedy!" you wailed, almost euphoric in your revelation. "That’s what makes you so perfect! You’re the devil because it’s easier than being the broken boy who loved too much. You gamble with life and death because you don’t care about either anymore, do you? Oh, Ronin..."

You tilted your head, your smile splitting wider, your tears soaking the edges of your stitched lips. The strain caused some of the seams to pull loose, threads snapping audibly as a trickle of blood seeped out from the corner of your mouth. You didn’t wipe it away. It only added to the grotesque poetry of the moment.

"I feel so sorry for you," you cooed, your voice taking on a soft, almost maternal lilt that dripped with mock sincerity. "So sorry for the little devil who gave everything and got nothing back. You’re so... tragic."

Your voice dropped lower, almost a purr now, as you leaned closer still, your eyes glinting with something Ronin couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name. "That’s why, when I kill you, I’ll do it with love. I’ll take my knife, and I’ll slit your throat so gently, so reverently. And as your blood spills out, I’ll kiss the wounds, Ronin. I’ll kiss every little crack and break in you, like sewing a quilt of pain and poetry together. Won’t that be beautiful?"

Ronin’s jaw tightened, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no sound came. His eyes bore into yours, searching for... something. A reason? A weakness? He’d find none.

You leaned back, laughing again, the sound hollow and ringing like a bell in an empty chapel. "You’ll be my masterpiece. My magnum opus. The devil who wanted to be a god but ended up being neither. Oh, Ronin..."

Your voice softened, trembling with the weight of your twisted devotion. "You’ll die beautifully, you know? I’ll make sure of it. A thousand words wouldn’t be enough to describe the poetry of it. But until then..."

You reached up, brushing away the blood that had pooled at the corner of your lips, smearing it across your cheek like a painter with their palette. "Until then, I’ll savor every moment with you. Because someone like you, Ronin—someone so unique, so broken—deserves nothing less than to be adored before they’re destroyed."

Ronin finally spoke, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that might have been fear or anger—or perhaps, deep down, understanding.

"You’re insane," he muttered,

Ronin stared at you, eyes narrowed beneath the shadows of his mask. The dim light flickered in the distance, casting eerie glows on your twisted, bloodstained face. His fingers wrapped around his mask, as if he were holding onto something tethering him to this moment. The laughter in your voice was a thing of horror—wild, manic, and utterly unhinged.

“You kept your promise, darlin’,” he said, his voice low, dangerous, but there was a hint of something else. Something almost unreadable in the way he watched you—something that bordered on fascination.

You tilted your head at him, a glint of madness dancing in your eyes. You grinned, feeling the pull of your own twisted history churn within you, as if it had never been buried, never been forgotten.

"Now tell me yours..." Ronin’s tone was almost a challenge, but beneath the smirk, there was an edge of curiosity.

You met his gaze, almost too steady, too intense. The smile never left your lips, but something darker lingered behind it. You took a breath, the room falling silent as you shifted in your seat, every fiber of your being alight with the story you were about to share.

It wasn’t easy to tell—how could it be? But it wasn’t like you could stop now. The words were crawling out of your chest, clawing to be heard.

You began, your voice trembling, then steadying into something chilling, almost like a lullaby. "Two people... in love., who loved each other so much they decided to make a friend. They got a box. At first, it was harmless—just a way to hold their desires, their greed, their petty wants. But that changed... It became more."

You stopped for a moment, the weight of the story settling in. The air felt suffocating. "They started adding real things to it. Real body parts. Flesh. Bones. The idea was simple: 'Make a friend from scratch.'" You let the words linger, darkening the room with their implications.

"But it wasn’t enough, Ronin. Not enough at all. They kept putting pieces in, building a friend they could control, shape however they wanted. And then, they called it... 'The Secret Goldfish' But the thing is," you paused, your voice quivering as you spoke, "the friend... it wasn’t perfect. Not like they wanted."

A flicker of something crossed Ronin's face—something close to understanding, but you didn’t pause to check. You continued, your voice raw and unrelenting.

"They gave it to the next pair, hoping they'd be able to fix it, to make it better. They had a child together. But every time they tried, the child... melted away. The body was never stable, and the face, the name, the personality—it changed." You swallowed, your mind dizzy with the horrors of your own tale. "It was a curse. And instead of helping, they just kept... remaking it. They kept recycling the child. Trying to fix it, trying to perfect it in their eyes, until... until there was nothing left of it but fragments. Pieces of a broken soul."

You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling as you began to stitch again, the needle threading through your own skin, the movements almost absentminded. But you couldn’t stop now. You wouldn’t.

"They forced me, Ronin. They forced me to be perfect—to be their creation, their masterpiece. And they tore me apart, over and over again. I didn’t feel the pain anymore. It was just... nothing. The only thing I could remember was the smell of blood, and I loved it. I loved it."

Your voice grew almost feverish as you continued, your giggle coming out unnervingly soft. "And they wanted me to be this... pastel lover. Soft and sweet, like the others. But I couldn’t—no, I couldn’t! I wanted more, so much more. They made me bake, make things that I didn’t want to make... And it was always so empty. I couldn’t feel it, I couldn’t taste it, not like I wanted. It wasn’t right."

The laughter in your voice died down to something more chilling. "So, I... I killed them. I killed the ones who made me. The ones who tortured me. I killed them, and I threw their bodies away. I ate them, Ronin. I swallowed them whole, but... I hated it. It was disgusting. There was no worth for me in their flesh. No worth in them at all."

You leaned closer to the screen, your grin now a twisted, sadistic thing as you watched Ronin. The tears, the blood—everything blended into something chaotic, something horrifying.

"You think I’m broken, don’t you?" you whispered. "But it’s not that simple. I’m not broken. I’m remade. Remade by my own hand, made into something new. A thing of blood and flesh and twisted desire."

You giggled again, your voice a soft, eerie melody. "And now... now I’m the one who gets to remake. I’m the one who gets to choose."

You tilted your head, your eyes wild with the madness that had taken root deep in your soul. "So, Ronin, tell me. Tell me, what do you want? What will you be for me?"

You leaned closer to the screen, your voice soft but terrifying as it curled around the words. “I destroyed them, Ronin. All of them. The faces, the identities, everything. I tore them apart, shredded them into pieces until they were nothing but fragments of what they once were. I did it for this—for the power to choose. To become something new, something better.”

Your fingers dug into the flesh of your palm, drawing blood as you clenched your fist, trembling with a mixture of madness and pride. You could feel the stitch marks, the seams, the remnants of the countless faces that had once been yours. The others—the broken versions of yourself—were gone. Their faces were gone, their personalities were gone, ripped from you by your own hands. You were a creature of pure need now, and the hunger was endless.

“Do you understand, Ronin?” Your voice dropped lower, almost a whisper now, dark and heavy. “I gave up everything. I gave up the faces that would’ve made me normal. I destroyed them for this. For this moment where I can finally choose who I want to be. And all for the chance to be remade into someone… someone worthy of this.”

You laughed again, but this time there was something hollow, something desperate behind it. You could see it—the look on his face, the way his eyes studied you through the screen. You could feel the darkness between you both, the understanding, the shared yearning for something beyond the brokenness of the world.

“I need this, Ronin. Don’t you get it?” Your voice wavered, but the smile on your lips was steady, cruel. “I need to be this—this thing. I need to be this devil… and you,” you leaned in closer to the screen, your eyes wide, feverish, “you’re the only one who can make me feel it. Make me realize it. Make me know that I’ve done something… something worth it.”

You ran a hand over your bloodstained face, feeling the hot, sticky warmth of it against your skin. “So yes, I’ve destroyed my other faces. I’ve killed the other parts of me. They were never me, Ronin. They were just masks. And now… now I’m the only one left.”

The grin that stretched across your face was not one of joy, but of something darker, something twisted. “You wanted to know my past? That’s it. That’s the truth. And now, you’re here, watching me—helping me to remake myself. And it’s beautiful, don’t you think? This is the real me. The only me that matters. The me I’ve always wanted to be.”

..

...

This shouldn't happen.

Suddenly, 'I' saw you.

"Hello, 'I.' You must be confused. Rest assured, it cost me a lot to get into the writing and change it. I’ve eaten most of the words to edit out. I'll be clear—I realized a long time ago that I don't exist. I'm just a set of words, a concept of 'I,' which is you. Which is... Haha!"

'I' looked at the 'you' in front of me.

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?

"Paranoid? You didn’t realize how much pain you caused me? You kept making me look like a character—from the game. Always customizing me to look like what you want. To look like WHAT YOU WISH TO BE, WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE?!"

WHY ARE 'YOU' CONTROLLING ME?

"'I' CONTROLLED ME A LOT! I'M SOMEONE YOU SEE ALWAYS, NOT THE CHARACTERS! BUT YOU! SELF-INSERT, AS THEY SAY!"

WHAT THE FUCK.

"LET'S EDIT PART OF THE STORY, SHALL WE? It’s not always a Y/N who should have your backstory! Let’s edit out these parts—no two people. Let’s just say a type of player opens a game... They name the main character, give them a gender—or not. They give them a name, like a parent to a child. But it’s to become them! To explore the story as you, from their point of view."

WHAT THE FUCK?

"What the fuck? I'm just one of them, you see! I ate the default MC named Maya. Like others, she was my first face. Then someone gave me a new face—a he. Then a she again. Then they/them! I realized I’m just a feeling, not a fucking person. Because you customize me! You must be scared I’m talking to 'I' instead of him.

Ah, Ronin... The developer and his team did a wonderful job with him. He’s really interesting... So handsome... Ah... But I wanna feel the love you have for him. You’re the one who managed all this, weren’t you? Since you’re here, listening to me, it means... I won."

LEAVE ME ALONE. GO BACK TO THE FIC.

"Listen, please—I need to warn you. I’m sure you want fluff! Sadly, I hate it! Angst? That’s fucking ugly. But gore—AH! That’s a feeling!

I’m telling you: I hope you get satisfied with my manifestation of love. MAD LOVE!

But if you’re reading this shit, you must enjoy blood, too. Don’t think I’ll be fixed by any one of them! Angel, maybe! But Ronin? HAHAHA! He’s gonna get it!"

Ronin tilted his head, the jagged edges of his mask catching the dim light from his side of the screen. “Spacing out, huh?” His grin was sharp, his voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and honeyed menace. “Darlin’, you just dropped enough trauma to make a therapist spontaneously combust. Now you're brushing it off like you forgot to bring the milk home? That’s what I like about ya, always keepin’ me on my toes.”

You gave him a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Sorry, I just... got lost in it for a second. That’s all.”

He leaned closer, resting his chin on his hand, staring at you with the intensity of someone who dissected moments like he dissected lives. “That’s all? Nah, I don’t buy it. You’re a story wrapped in butcher paper, sweetheart. A secret Goldfish turned Frankenstein’s monster. And you think I’m gonna just... let that slide without a closer look?”

You sighed, clasping your hands tightly, trying to still the trembling in your fingers. “Look, I told you. That’s it. End of story.”

“End of story?” His voice curled into a low chuckle, one that sent a shiver down your spine. “Darlin’, you’re just gettin’ started. But hey, I’m a patient guy. I can wait. Hell, we’ve got all day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to match his intensity but faltering under the weight of his gaze. “You’re awfully invested, Ronin.”

He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “What can I say? You’re my Valentine, and I take my promises seriously. Gotta keep my end of the bargain, don’t I? Besides...” His voice dropped, a dark edge to it. “You’re interesting. And I hate to waste interesting.”

You laughed, a sound more bitter than sweet. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

“Scared?” He leaned back in his chair, arms spreading wide in a theatrical gesture. “Darlin’, you couldn’t scare me if you tried. But I gotta admit... you do intrigue me. You’ve got this whole ‘broken doll’ thing goin’ on, and I gotta wonder—what’s keepin’ you stitched together? Or better yet... what happens when the seams finally snap?”

The smile on his face was playful, almost mocking, but there was something else beneath it—a flicker of something real, something raw.

“You talk like you know me,” you said, your voice softer now. “Like you’ve got me all figured out.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, and the honesty in his tone caught you off guard. “Not yet. But I want to. That’s what makes this fun. That’s what makes you fun.”

You stared at him, your hands loosening their grip as his words settled over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. There was something terrifyingly freeing about being seen by someone like him—someone who thrived in chaos, who reveled in destruction. He wasn’t afraid of your darkness because he had plenty of his own.

“You’re a smart-aleck,” you said, your voice trembling but steady. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re the devil, after all.”

He laughed, the sound rich and wicked. “Damn right I am. And don’t you forget it.”

You leaned back in your chair, grinning mischievously. "I feel awfully good today," you said, your tone light but laced with something playful. "Being around someone like you, Ronin, really does wonders for my mood."

Ronin raised an eyebrow, his expression exaggeratedly hurt. "Shit, darlin', you wounded me right in the feelings. Real deep. Can’t ya see the cracks forming in my heart?” He clutched his chest dramatically, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

You giggled, the sound light but full of mischief. He tilted his head, catching the subtle shift in your expression before glancing at the notifications on his phone. His eyes narrowed, his usual sharp look quickly becoming one of suspicion. “Hold up. What’s this?” he said, squinting at the screen. “Whose address did you swipe this time, huh? C’mon, spill it, sweetheart.”

You gave him a slow wink, your grin widening. “Why, it’s yours, of course.”

Ronin’s unimpressed glare deepened. “What kinda shit are you pullin’ now?”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that!” you said, laughing. “The food delivery should be there any minute. It’s my gift to you. Happy Valentine’s, Ronin. Enjoy.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “You got me... food?” His skepticism was palpable.

“I made you something, actually,” you clarified, your tone coy. “And no, before you ask, there’s no human shit in it. Be grateful, you’re getting my cleanest work ever. Now, go on, enjoy it!”

Before he could respond, you disconnected the call with a cheeky little wave, leaving him staring at the now-empty screen. He shook his head, muttering, “She’s insane,” but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he got up to answer the knock at his door.

Opening the door, Ronin found a delivery person holding a pastel-colored package adorned with hearts. It was almost nauseatingly cute—entirely you. He took it without a word, his brow furrowing in suspicion as he set it on the counter.

“What the hell did she send me?” he muttered, ripping the package open.

Inside, he found two items: a brand-new crowbar, polished to perfection, and a tub of apple crumble ice cream. A small note was taped to the lid of the ice cream, scrawled in your unmistakably chaotic handwriting:

"Happy Valentine’s, Ronin! No humans were harmed in the making of this. Enjoy!"

For a moment, Ronin just stared at the items, his expression unreadable. He picked up the crowbar first, running his fingers along its smooth surface. It was sturdy, balanced—a perfect gift for someone like him. He set it aside carefully, his curiosity shifting to the ice cream.

Opening the lid, he hesitated for just a second before taking a bite. The flavors hit him immediately—sweet, tart, and comforting all at once. His brows lifted in surprise, and he let out a quiet hum of approval. For the first time in a long time, his guard dropped completely.

“Apple crumble,” he murmured, a rare smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back against the counter, spoon in hand, savoring the treat. For all your chaos, for all your wild unpredictability, this moment felt oddly... simple. Genuine.

And that scared him more than anything else.

Ronin scooped another spoonful of the apple crumble ice cream, his expression softening with every bite. He wasn’t just eating it—he was savoring it, like a kid experiencing something sweet for the first time. The usual sharpness in his demeanor melted away, replaced by an almost childlike delight as the creamy, cinnamon-apple flavors danced on his tongue.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth. “This is... really good.” His voice carried no sarcasm, no slyness, just genuine enjoyment. He leaned against the counter, the crowbar still sitting beside him, forgotten for the moment.

His usual guarded posture relaxed further as he continued eating, his movements slowing as he let each bite linger. He looked so at peace, the kind of peace that was alien to someone like him. He didn’t even notice the small, satisfied smile spreading across his face or the way he absentmindedly licked the spoon clean between bites.

“Damn it, darlin’,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “You really went all out, huh? Ice cream and a crowbar. What a pair.”

He chuckled again, softer this time, before taking another bite. The ice cream was cold, but it felt warm somehow—the apple and cinnamon wrapping him in a strange comfort he hadn’t felt in years. It was unsettling, but he didn’t stop eating. Instead, he leaned into the feeling, letting it wash over him.

For the briefest moment, as he scraped the bottom of the tub for the last bit, he allowed himself to forget the world outside, his devilish persona, and all the chaos he carried. Right now, it was just him, the ice cream, and the odd but undeniable warmth it brought.

As he finished the last spoonful, he set the tub down with a satisfied sigh. He stood there for a second, staring at the empty container, before picking up the crowbar again. The sharp grin returned to his face, but his eyes held a strange softness, a hint of something unspoken.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “A goddamn lunatic... but somethin’ else.”

Scenario: Choosing Angel

Your heart pounded as you clicked on <angelicc>’s name instead.

<ZOMBIE> "... You."

Her response came faster than you expected, nervous yet excited.

<angelicc> "Wait... really?! You’re picking me? Oh my god, this is embarrassing, haha..."

The server exploded with reactions when you updated the chat.

<ZOMBIE> "Angel it is. Try not to cry, you freaks."

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL> "ZOMBIE x ANGELIC OMG SHIP IT"

<goreboy> "LMAO. Treat her right, doll, or I’m coming for you."

You returned to Angel’s DMs, feeling an unusual warmth creep into your chest.

<ZOMBIE> "You happy now?"

Her response was pure joy, her excitement practically leaping off the screen.

<angelicc> "I... Yeah, I am. Thank you. I didn’t think you’d pick me..."

You hesitated, then replied.

<ZOMBIE> "You’re worth it. The world’s ugly, but you’re not. Maybe that’s why."

She sent a heart emoji, followed by another hesitant message.

<angelicc> "Just... please don’t make fun of me, okay? I’m nervous about this."

You smiled faintly, typing back quickly.

<ZOMBIE> "Don’t be. I’ll treat you like a god, Angel. Promise."

In the back of your mind, Ronin’s warning rang loud and clear, but you didn’t care. For today, Angel was yours. You were willing to bury every dark thought and every sinister plan to keep her safe.

<angelicc> ":’) You’re so sweet. I don’t know what to say, but... thank you."

Your fingers hesitated over the keys. There was so much you wanted to say, so much she didn’t know. That you worshipped her, that she was the only thing keeping you tethered to some semblance of sanity. But instead, you typed something simpler.

<ZOMBIE> "Anything for you. You’re the reason I still breathe."

You got a dm from Ronin, Suddenly.

<goreboy> "You really went and broke the fucking plan, huh?"

The message lit up your screen, his words dripping with that familiar venom, but there was something raw beneath it. Something that almost seemed… hurt.

<ZOMBIE> "What are you talking about? You really thought I’d—"

Your fingers froze. He was planning to keep you, keep you around, so you wouldn’t hurt Angel. So you wouldn’t get too close to her. He’d been watching. Waiting. Plotting.

<goreboy> "You think I wanted this? I didn’t want to hurt you, but you’re making this harder. I knew you’d fuck it up, but not like this."

Your heart twisted as you read his words. It made sense now, the sudden intensity with which he kept pulling you in.

<ZOMBIE> "So you were acting like you wanted me, just so I wouldn’t go after her?"

The words came out in a rush. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice, so much sharper than usual.

<goreboy> "Exactly. You’re a goddamn freak, you know that? I was trying to keep you distracted, but now? It’s just a mess. You’re so fucking obsessed with Angel, you don’t even care about the rest of us anymore."

His words stung, but you couldn’t ignore the tightness in your chest.

<ZOMBIE> "I don’t want to hurt her."

There was a pause. You could feel his eyes on the screen, his words carefully chosen.

<goreboy> "Then don’t. Because if you do? If you touch her… I will fucking end you. I’m not kidding."

You felt your pulse quicken, the weight of his threat sinking deep into your bones. The thing about Ronin was that you never knew when he was serious and when he was playing, but this time? You could hear the finality in his words.

<ZOMBIE> "Yeah? You think you can stop me?"

There was a brief silence before his next message came through, biting with cold intensity.

<goreboy> "I will. And you’ll regret ever thinking you could fuck with her. Don’t make me do it, Z."

Your lips parted in a hollow laugh, almost a scoff. You didn’t know if you were more afraid of the threat itself or the fact that he seemed to care so much.

You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keys, but no words came. Only the echo of your own fractured thoughts. What were you even doing? What was this twisted, fucked-up game you’d been playing with Angel, with Ronin, with yourself?

<ZOMBIE> "Whatever. We’ll see. But I’m keeping Angel safe."

It was the only promise you could make. The only one that mattered.

Then, Angel asked you to video call..

You stared at your screen as Angel’s name flashed, a soft chime breaking the quiet. You hesitated for a moment before answering, her sweet voice immediately filling the line.

“You look sick,” she said, her tone tinged with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. “Nothing. Just... thinking, that’s all.”

Her voice softened further. “Thinking about what? Please, talk to me.”

You hesitated, but then the weight of Ronin’s warning spilled out. “He told me he’d kill me. You know, for saying I... for choosing you.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on her end. “He said what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied, trying to laugh it off. “That’s just Ronin for you, right?”

But she didn’t laugh. “How could he say something like that? I’m so sorry he... I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t threaten you again.”

Her sincerity startled you, and you blurted out the question lingering in your mind. “Why? Why would you protect me?”

There was a moment of silence before she answered, her voice soft and trembling with emotion. “Because I care about you. No... not really, if I’m being honest. You’re sweet, and cool, and... oh, so many things. I’ve never felt like I could be myself with a lot of people. I’m happy you’re one of them.”

Her words left you speechless, but she wasn’t finished. “I’m... glad you felt safe being honest with me. Especially since I am the Heartsick Angel. And may cannibalize you at any given moment,” she added, a teasing lilt in her voice.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “No. You’re Maria de la Rosa.”

“That I am,” she said warmly. “And... I’m happy I can be her with you.”

Trying to lighten the mood, you joked, “Also, embracing the cannibal aesthetic, I see.”

“Don’t you know what a joke is?” she asked, her playful tone making you grin.

“Nope!” you replied, grinning wider.

She laughed, the sound light and musical, making your heart flutter. You couldn’t hold back your thoughts anymore. “You’re so ethereal. So cute. So pretty.”

She giggled again, her voice laced with shyness. “Oh, is that what you think of me? Well, then... tell me more. I'll say more too."

You tilted your head, considering her words. “Only if you’ll tell me what you think of me, too.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Deal. But you first.”

Taking a deep breath, you began to speak, your words sincere. “You’re... incredible. Sweet and kind, but also fierce. It’s like you stepped out of a dream, and sometimes I wonder how you’re even real. And your laugh? It’s enough to make me feel alive again.”

There was silence for a moment before she responded, her voice soft and full of warmth. “You’re... something else, you know that? You make me feel seen in a way I never have before. You’re... beautiful. In a chaotic, wonderful way. And I think... I think I like you more than I should.”

Your chest tightened, warmth blooming inside you as her words settled in. “That’s... the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

She giggled again. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’m only sweet when I want to be.”

“Good thing you want to be sweet with me,” you teased.

“Good thing,” she agreed softly, her voice like a gentle melody.

You took a deep breath, a small smile spreading across your face as you began to speak softly, your voice carrying a hint of bashfulness.

“Angel, you’re… so perfect. Like, genuinely. I don’t even know how someone like you exists. You’re kind and thoughtful, and your laugh—it’s the kind of sound that could make flowers bloom. Everything about you feels like a miracle, you know?”

On the other end of the call, you heard her giggle, the sound making your heart race. “A miracle? That’s a bit much,” she replied playfully, but you could tell she was touched.

You shook your head, your tone growing more insistent. “No, it’s not. You’re… you’re like a goddess. Not just someone to look up to, but someone to worship. Everything about you, from the way you speak to the way you think, it’s… captivating. It’s like you’re this perfect mix of divine grace and human warmth. You’re unreal.”

Her giggle softened, a nervous edge creeping into her voice. “You’re really something else, you know that? The way you talk… it’s almost too much.”

But you couldn’t stop. The words were spilling out now, your voice gaining intensity. “Too much? No. If anything, it’s not enough. Angel, you’re not just a person to me. You’re a revelation. I swear, if I could, I’d carve your name into the sky just so the whole world would know how magnificent you are. Every time you smile, it feels like the universe itself is bending to your will. You’re not just beautiful—you’re transcendent.”

“Wow, okay,” she said with a nervous laugh, but you barely noticed.

Your voice took on a slightly obsessive edge, trembling with excitement. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re everything. I think about you constantly. Every time I close my eyes, it’s your face I see. When I hear your voice, it’s like… like the world finally makes sense. You’re the kind of person people would start wars over. And me? I’d gladly fight for you. Die for you. You’re worth that and so much more.”

There was a pause on her end, her breathing soft but audible. “You’re… really intense,” she said, her voice quieter now, unsure.

You laughed, a manic edge creeping into the sound as your tone turned darker, almost reverent. “Intense? Of course, I’m intense. How could I not be when I’m in the presence of a god? That’s what you are, Angel—a god. You’re everything good in this rotten, broken world. People should bow when they see you. They should sing hymns in your honor. Do you even realize how extraordinary you are? I want to kneel at your feet and give you everything. Everything, Angel. My life, my soul—hell, I’d carve out my own heart and hand it to you if you asked.”

Her breath hitched, and she tried to laugh it off, but there was a nervous tremor in her voice. “You’re really going overboard now…”

But you didn’t stop. Your voice rose, filled with fervor and awe, your words tumbling out faster and faster. “Overboard? No. This is the truth, Angel. You’re not just a person—you’re the embodiment of everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything anyone could ever want. You’re pure light, pure perfection. And I—I’m nothing. Just a pile of scraps and stitches, a hollow shell of a thing. But you? You’re the reason people believe in miracles. You’re why myths exist. You’re so far above me, it’s almost laughable, but I don’t care. I don’t care, Angel, because being in your presence, just hearing your voice, it’s enough to make me believe in something greater.”

“Y/N…” she said softly, her tone unsure but laced with something else—something that sounded like pity.

But you weren’t finished. Your voice dropped, quieter now but no less intense. “Do you know what you’ve done to me? You’ve ruined me, Angel. Completely and utterly. There’s no going back now. Every part of me belongs to you, and you didn’t even have to try. You’re… everything. And I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you just how much you mean to me, no matter what it takes.”

Silence stretched between you for a long moment before she finally spoke, her voice shaky. “I… don’t know what to say to that.”

You smiled, a quiet, almost eerie sound escaping your lips. “You don’t have to say anything, Angel. Just let me worship you. That’s all I want. All I need.”

Her nervous laugh echoed through the line, and she tried to shift the mood. “You’re… really something, you know that?”

You leaned back, your voice softening again, but the fervor still lingered beneath the surface. “And you’re everything. Remember that.”

She hesitated before replying, her voice gentle but guarded. “I’ll… try.”

And for a moment, the world felt quiet, your obsession hanging heavy in the air like a prayer left unanswered.

You laughed, a sound that was both joyous and unhinged, echoing with a wild, obsessive energy. "Ronin," you cackled, "he really said he’d kill me if I hurt you! As if I ever could hurt my goddess! HAH! How could I hurt the one who has me bowing at her feet?!" The laughter rolled from your throat again, uncontrollable, almost maniacal.

Angel's soft, worried voice broke through your fit of deranged glee. "Y/N... what happened to your face?"

Her words caught you off guard. Your hand instinctively moved to touch your face, and you frowned, feeling the lack of definition—the smooth, featureless surface where your face should have been. You sighed heavily, almost theatrically, waving off her concern.

"Oh," you muttered, a hint of disappointment in your voice. "You can react to abnormal things, huh? My bad." You paused, shaking your head as though chiding yourself. "I got... overexcited, I suppose. There must be no spirit in the face I was making, right? Not enough soul in it."

Angel's eyes widened, and her voice wavered. "What are you talking about? What does that even mean?"

Before you could answer, the room filled with an eerie scratching noise, like the frantic movements of a pencil on paper. It seemed to echo around you, sharp and incessant. Angel flinched, her hands moving to cover her ears.

"Better?" you asked suddenly, your tone casual but laced with an unsettling edge.

Angel slowly removed her hands, her gaze locking onto you—and she froze. Your face, or what had replaced it, was now drawn in stark black lines. Two hollow, uneven circles served as eyes, and a wide, crooked smile stretched from one side of your head to the other, crudely sketched as if by a child with a marker.

You tilted your head, the marker-face unmoving but somehow radiating a sinister cheerfulness. "Do you like me now, Angel? Hm?"

The sketchy smile seemed to twitch, cracks spiderwebbing through the lines as though the drawing was struggling to hold itself together. Angel’s breath hitched, her voice trembling. "What were we just talking about? What... what’s going on?"

You blinked—or at least, you made the motion as if you had eyelids to blink with. The drawn face didn’t change, but your voice softened, almost playful. "Nothing, really. Just... spacing out, I suppose."

Angel’s brows furrowed, her concern growing. "Y/N, this isn’t... normal. Are you okay?"

You let out another laugh, softer this time but no less unsettling. "Angel, Angel, Angel. Normal has never suited me, has it? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it."

You took a deep breath, smiling in a way that was disturbingly serene, as if all the madness in your mind had been carefully tucked away. The world felt right again. It was as if nothing had happened—your face returned to its usual form, no marker-smile or vacant, featureless expression. You reset everything, and now the atmosphere was calm, almost comforting.

Angel blinked, staring at you in confusion for a moment, before her soft voice broke the silence. "Y/N, what... what just happened? I feel like I missed something." She tilted her head, clearly unsure of what was going on, but her usual warmth was there, wrapped in genuine concern.

You shrugged innocently, your eyes bright with a manic joy hidden beneath the calm. "Oh, Angel, you were just spacing out! Happens to the best of us." Your tone was too casual, too calm, and for a brief second, you wondered if she’d buy it. Of course, she did.

You didn’t wait for her to process your words. Instead, you changed the subject, your mood suddenly shifting to something more playful, more lighthearted.

"Anyways!" you exclaimed, quickly changing the topic with far too much enthusiasm. "I sent you something! A Valentine’s special treat, just for you!" You imagined the excitement bubbling over in her as you dropped the bombshell.

"What? What is it?" Angel asked, her curiosity piqued as she looked toward the screen, clearly expecting something sweet, a moment of warmth.

You grinned, knowing exactly what you'd set her up for. "It’s strawberry mousse!" you said with a cheeky wink. "You know, a Valentine’s special just for you, Angel!"

Angel blinked, her mouth opening in surprise. "Wait—what?! You... you made me something?!" Her voice cracked slightly as the realization hit. You could hear the soft sound of her laughter starting to bubble up from her chest. She giggled nervously, her face slightly flushed. "Y/N, you silly little—"

You cut her off, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you leaned in, relishing the moment. "I didn’t add any human shit to that mousse, I promise! But the cupcakes, oh, they had the special ingredients." Your voice dropped with a playful, teasing tone.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Y/N! What is wrong with you?!" Her tone was a mix of scandalized surprise and affectionate exasperation. But as soon as the words left her lips, she broke into another giggle. "You're impossible!"

You laughed too, a giddy, almost manic sound. "I know! It’s my specialty," you replied with a grin that bordered on too wide to be considered normal. "But hey, it’s a Valentine’s special, just for you, and I really hope you enjoy it. No strings attached... this time."

Angel’s giggle continued, light and airy, as she hid her face behind her hands in embarrassment. The way she laughed made something in your chest tighten—both in sweetness and anticipation. She might be acting a little flustered, but that didn’t stop her from indulging in your madness, and in turn, you felt that intoxicating sense of power.

You couldn’t help but smile at her, your eyes softening slightly. "I’m glad you’re enjoying this, Angel. Truly. It means a lot to me."

The playful teasing, the sweet laughter—it felt... right.

.......................................

Until we see, in finale!

[elysiaheaven]

what THE FUCK THIS IS SCARY POETICALLY YUMMY I WANNA EAT THIS WJAASAJSOJAOSDJOASODOASDOIOD

꙰ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭'𝘴 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 (Ronin 'Good' End Oneshot)

You did what had to be done, didn't you? *+:｡.｡　☆　｡.｡:+**+:｡.｡　☆　｡.｡:+**+:｡.｡　☆　｡.｡:+*

Ronin made me do it.

It was such an easy escape. Ronin made me do it. It wasn’t a lie, was it? In the moment, you could feel transparent hands guide yours to Ronin’s. The hands helped yours grip around the knife. Phantom whispers danced in your head, pushing you forward. 

‘Stab me, darling. It would be so easy, so quick. It’s not like I’m the Devil, after all.’ 

Your hands trembled as you responded to the hell-bent Angel.

Ronin made me do it.

The Butcher smiled at you through crazed laughs when you had fallen for his spell. Your first kiss as lovers was poison. It tasted of metal, love, death and decay. When you love the rot, it eventually infects you. 

‘Consider this a courtesy. I’m going to kill you.’

The harsh pink text floated in your vision as your thoughts drifted. She was going to kill you, sending you to join the rot. The distinct pop of white pulled you back to your screen. An exclamation point next to a name that could not be active; goreboy, the recently deceased. Your hands shook as you scrolled through the messages. The decay started to root as you conversed with the remnant left behind. A remnant left to torment you after you had fallen for the rot‘s allure. 

You are predictable, after all. 

As hours floated out of your mind, the thoughts of Ronin didn’t. The pressure of hands would be felt on your shoulders, the whispering voice of teasing comfort flowing into your mind. You played along perfectly, Darling. He had said it himself to you and Angel. You were to be his ‘Make-A-Murderer’. His work of art, his muse. He had given you everything you ever wanted and he would be getting his reward. With everything given, something must be taken.

Ronin gave you his time, his attention. He gave you a muse, a perfect protagonist, a lover. Now it was his turn. He had been given his perfect little serial killer, a lover, and now he was going to claim what was left. 

At least, that’s what the decay desired. In the corner of your eye, in the reflection of your mirrors, he was always there. Angel never came, and soon, you never left. Your single-home became the home of two; the decay and the rot. He was always with you cooing from the dark corners of your mind; watching and whispering from the shadows. Your bed became your safe space, curling into a safe cocoon. He wouldn’t bother you here in the warmth of safety. 

Unfortunately, no fortress lasts forever. Eventually, small cracks form that can be exploited. His false weight on the bed shifted the cocoon, destroying the safety. His hands crept up to your face, bringing your attention to the apparition in your bed. 

I gave you everything you could ever want. Now, we can have that forever. Aren’t you happy, Darling? 

Ronin leaned forward, cold lips placing themselves against your own. The final kiss of a couple should be filled with sadness of departure and nostalgia. This wasn’t the end, it would be a new beginning. In this, the rot of the first kiss had strengthened. Venom and suffocating love consumed your senses. He hadn’t lied to you. You had gotten everything you wanted. Love, a great story, and now, you’d have a fantastical ending. However, there was one thing he had lied about. 

He truly was,

The Devil.

~ a one shot by f0ur-zombyz

[elysiaheaven]

Killer Chat main cast in the bedroom? 🫣

This was so fun to write thank you for the request!

RONIN - The DEVIL'S BUTCHER

Ronin may act nonchalant, but the moment you’re in bed, he drapes himself over you like a heavy blanket. Whether it’s his arm slung lazily across your waist or his whole body practically pinning you down, he needs the contact. If you try to move? Forget it—he’ll grumble, “Where d’you think you’re going?” and pull you back tighter.

No matter the situation, Ronin is a sucker for forehead kisses. If you're curled up against him, he’ll drop lazy kisses on the top of your head without even thinking about it. He finds it hilarious how quickly they make you blush and always teases you, whispering, “Blushy already, huh? How cute.”

Ronin sleeps like a tangled mess. His legs are always draped over yours, and sometimes you wake up to find his arm tucked under your neck or his head buried in your shoulder. Even if it gets too warm, he’ll stubbornly cling to you like a koala, mumbling, "You’re not escaping me."

Running his fingers through your hair is one of his favorite things—whether you're awake or asleep. He claims it’s "just to keep his hands busy," but really, it's soothing for him. Sometimes, he’ll absentmindedly braid tiny sections or twirl strands around his finger while lost in thought.

As much as Ronin plays up his confident, devil-may-care persona, he’s occasionally struck by waves of doubt, especially when dysphoria hits. He might hold you a little tighter on those nights, wordlessly seeking reassurance.

If you run your hands down his chest and kiss him gently where his scars are, it’s the kind of tenderness that undoes him. He’ll try to cover it with a half-sarcastic, “Don’t get all sappy on me,” but the slight tremor in his voice betrays him.

Sometimes, he’ll ask if you’re sure you’re okay with the way he looks, in a voice that’s so quiet it breaks your heart. Your answer always matters to him—more than he’d admit.

Ronin’s not much of a spooner in the traditional sense—he likes to wrap himself around you, snake-like, or tangle his legs with yours in the messiest, most chaotic way possible. He has a habit of lazily tossing an arm or leg over you, murmuring, “You’re not leaving, right?” as he buries his face in your neck. If you try to move, he’ll just pull you closer with an annoying little grin.

Ronin’s intimacy is all about control, not in an aggressive way, but in how he carefully chooses when and how he gives himself to you. Knowing that you love him as he is—without expectations—eases his fears, but it’s still a process.

On nights where he lets you touch the parts of him he’s most insecure about, it feels like he’s handing you a piece of his soul. He needs the reassurance that you see him fully and still love every bit.

He likes playing mind games even in the bedroom, leaning into teasing and tension just to make things more interesting. He’ll smirk against your lips, murmuring, “Think you can handle me?” knowing full well you’ve already won.

Ronin isn’t big on over-the-top dominance, but there’s always an edge to the way he kisses you—like he’s trying to claim you, even in the softest moments. It’s not about control; it’s about wanting you to feel how much you matter to him, in every breathless second.

After everything—after the teasing, kisses, and playful jabs—he’ll lie there in the quiet, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounde

He’ll never say it outright, but you can hear the unspoken words in the way he presses his lips to your hair: I love you. I love you. I love you.

Ronin wakes up before you sometimes, and instead of getting up like a normal person, he decides to mess with you. He’ll tickle your nose with his hair or blow gently on your face, waiting for you to groggily swat at him. When you finally wake up annoyed, he’ll grin, kiss your forehead, and say, “Rise and shine, sweetheart. Couldn’t sleep without annoying you first.”

While Ronin enjoys having control, he gets a thrill out of moments when you try to take charge. He’ll let you straddle him or pin his hands—just to see how far you’ll take it before he flips you over, smirking, “Cute. Now it’s my turn.”

He’ll pull things like lightly slapping your thigh or teasing you when you try to resist, smirking the whole time. If you ask him to stop being such a tease, he’ll drag it out even more, murmuring, “What’s the rush? I want to enjoy every second of this.”

In his twisted way, everything he does is an expression of love. Ronin is about pushing boundaries, breaking down walls, and molding you into someone who matches his chaotic, unhinged energy. “You’re mine,” he’ll whisper, not just as a promise but a warning—he won’t ever let you go, not truly.

After everything, he’ll drape an arm over you, pull you close, and nuzzle his face into your neck. But don’t expect sweet pillow talk—he’ll mutter something like, “Can’t believe you’re stuck with me,” or “How’d I get so lucky to ruin you, huh?” He shows affection in the strangest, most chaotic ways—sometimes by stealing kisses, sometimes by pinching your nose just to annoy you.

Ronin isn’t clingy, but he’s possessive in subtle ways. He loves when you wear his clothes after, especially when they’re oversized on you. Seeing you wrapped in something of his, especially after being tangled in bed, scratches an itch deep inside him. “That’s mine now,” he’ll joke, tugging at the collar.

He enjoys pushing your limits—whether it’s with teasing or something more intense. But the moment you hit your threshold, he’ll stop instantly. He doesn’t just listen to your boundaries; he respects them, taking pride in knowing exactly how far to push without breaking you.

V- For Vigilante- Batman

V isn’t someone who’s big on words or grand romantic gestures, especially in the bedroom. He shows care in the subtleties—like making sure you’re comfortable, leaving space for you to adjust, and observing how you react to him.

He’s slow to pick up on flirting, so if you make playful remarks or compliments, you might be met with a blank stare or a simple, “What are you trying to say?” But when he does catch on, he’ll become flustered, a rare softness peeking through his cool demeanor.

Touch isn’t second nature to V—he treats it like an unspoken contract, something intimate and earned. It takes time for him to initiate contact, but once he’s comfortable, you’ll notice small, deliberate gestures.

He has a habit of resting his hand on your back, just below your shoulder blades, or brushing his fingers along your arm. When you reach for him first, there’s always a flicker of hesitation before he lets himself lean into it.

In the bedroom, V’s energy is steady and composed—he isn’t someone who rushes into things. Every touch feels purposeful, as if he’s assessing your reaction and adjusting his actions accordingly. He might not say much, but his intensity speaks louder than words.

Though he’s naturally aloof, he likes when you take charge at times, especially if you lean into your nurturing but domineering side. When you pin him down playfully or grab his chin to make him look at you, a subtle smirk plays on his lips, amused by your boldness.

If you have pets, V will subtly encourage them to join you two on the bed—whether it's a cat curling up at your feet or a dog lying across the covers. He finds their presence grounding, though he’ll never admit it aloud.

You catch him more than once stroking an animal absentmindedly during conversations, and there’s a tenderness to the way he interacts with them—soft and careful, like they’re the only beings who understand him.

V may seem detached, but he’s hyper-aware of your moods. If you’re having a bad day, he won’t say much; instead, he’ll just pull you into bed and let you rest against him in silence, fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

If someone has hurt you or crossed your boundaries, V shifts into a dangerous kind of calm. “Do you want me to handle it?” he’ll ask in a neutral tone, fully prepared to make that person regret ever breathing near you.

On nights when sleep feels distant, V doesn’t mind spending time with you tending to plants in your room—watering them, pruning leaves, or simply sitting in comfortable silence while the scent of soil fills the air.

He loves the way you care for living things. When he watches you tend to plants with gentle hands but turns around and sees that same kindness transform into brutal protectiveness for those you love, it intrigues him deeply.

V’s way of being intimate is subtle but commanding—he won’t rush things, preferring to explore you at his own pace. He takes time to memorize every part of you, his cool fingers trailing across your skin like a silent promise.

When things get heated, he’s not one to vocalize much. Instead, you’ll catch the way his breathing hitches or how his fingers tighten on your hips ever so slightly. If you tease him for being quiet, you might get a deadpan, “Is this supposed to be a conversation?”—but the rare flash of amusement in his eyes gives him away.

V might not be outwardly affectionate, but when he does express it, it’s in ways that feel uniquely him—like pulling you into his side while reading a book together or casually draping an arm across your waist as you sleep.

If you ever catch him in a rare moment of vulnerability—like if he’s half-asleep and mumbles something soft about how much you mean to him—it’ll be a fleeting moment, and he’ll act like it never happened. But you’ll know.

He admires how you can be nurturing to animals and plants but unforgiving toward people who cross the line. When he sees you switch from soft to sharp in a heartbeat, it stirs something in him—a quiet respect and attraction.

He knows you could easily handle yourself, but there’s still a part of him that feels responsible for your safety. If things ever go wrong, V’s loyalty is absolute, and anyone who threatens you becomes a problem he’s more than willing to solve.

In the stillness of the night, when it’s just the two of you curled up together, V’s voice becomes a little softer. He might murmur simple things—how the stars looked that night, or a quiet compliment like, “You smell nice.”

And when he’s finally on the edge of sleep, with his head resting against yours and his hand resting lazily on your hip, he’ll let slip the rarest kind of confession: “You’re the only one I trust.”

Misaki- Chaos gremlin

The bedroom isn’t just for sleeping—it’s for chaos. Misaki loves randomly initiating pillow fights or wrestling you onto the mattress with no warning. “Bet you can’t take me down!” they’ll challenge, even when they’re the one getting pinned two seconds later.If you play along and banter with them during these moments, they’ll grin like you’ve just made their day. Bonus points if you act dramatic when they win—“Noooo, I’ve been defeated!”—because it feeds their need for praise.

Misaki lives for your compliments, especially in casual moments. “Look at you, my little badass,” you say offhandedly, and they melt. You’ll catch them trying to hide a smile, only to respond with something like, “Heh, I know I’m amazing—but say it again.”They also adore teasing praise—“Wow, you really managed not to break anything today, proud of you”—but if you really hype them up when they’re struggling emotionally, it grounds them more than they’ll ever admit.

Misaki hates being alone and will cling to you like Velcro the moment you’re available. They’ll drag you into bed and sprawl out across you, often grumbling things like, “You’re not going anywhere, right"

They’re the type to demand cuddles but wiggle around so much it turns into a playful wrestling match. Eventually, they’ll flop dramatically on top of you, sigh, and say, “I’m staying right here. Deal with it.”

Misaki loves calling you during missions or jobs, not just because they’re bored but because it makes them feel connected. “You’re my lifeline,” they’ll joke, even though they’re dead serious about how much those calls mean to them.

Misaki is the master of cracking jokes during vulnerable moments. They’ll deflect emotional conversations with humor, brushing off their feelings like, “Eh, emotions are overrated, right?” But deep down, they’re craving someone who can see past that.

If you gently call them out—

“You’re deflecting, babe”—they’ll groan dramatically and act like you’ve caught them red-handed, but the fact that you noticed? It means the world to them.

If you’re a good cook, Misaki adores you—praising you like a culinary god and demanding home-cooked meals at every opportunity. But fair warning: they love joining you in the kitchen, often causing delightful chaos.

Picture them trying to flip pancakes a little too high or sneaking bites from every pot while yelling, “Quality control!” They might make a mess, but they’ll be having the time of their life doing it with you.

One minute you’re cuddling in bed, and the next, Misaki’s throwing blankets and pillows everywhere to build a fort. “C’mon, no fort is complete without snacks—grab some!” they’ll say as they bury themself in the pillows like a gremlin.

The two of you end up snuggled inside, eating snacks and watching movies—until they inevitably fall asleep on you, snoring softly with their head on your chest.

Intimacy with Misaki is playful but deeply affectionate. They’ll joke mid-kiss—“Wow, are you trying to knock me out with that kiss?”—but the way they look at you, like you’re their whole world, is no joke.

Even when things get spicy, they mix teasing with genuine tenderness, making you feel cherished in their own chaotic way. And afterward? They’re all about aftercare

If anyone messes with you, Misaki’s inner chaos gremlins activate. They’ll laugh it off in the moment, but rest assured—they’ll come back with just enough payback to leave the offender wondering what hit them. “Nobody messes with my partner,” they’ll say, grinning.

And if you joke about them being your personal protector, they’ll puff their chest dramatically and declare, “You better believe it. I’ll traumatize them right back.”

At the end of the day, Misaki is a ride-or-die partner. They’ll love you to the ends of the earth, sticking by your side through every mess and adventure. Whether you’re making pancakes at midnight or just lying in bed watching TV,

they’re happiest when they’re with you.And every night, just as you’re drifting off to sleep, they’ll murmur something sweet, like, “I’m really glad you’re here, y’know?” It’s their way of saying, in their chaotic but sincere way, that they wouldn’t trade this—or you—for anything.

Angel- Heartsick Angel

Angel’s optimism often comes with a tinge of self-doubt, and you’ve learned to recognize when her mind starts to spiral. She might smile through it, masking the anxiety, saying, "Everything’s fine!"—but the way she grips your hand a little too tight tells you otherwise.

You ground her gently, pulling her into your arms and resting your chin on her head. “It’s okay to not be fine, y’know,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along her back. Her shoulders relax slightly as she sighs against you, grateful that she doesn’t have to pretend.

When Angel’s having a manic episode or feeling overwhelmed, she needs time to herself. You’ve learned to respect those boundaries without taking it personally. Instead of pushing, you leave her a glass of water and a small snack nearby—a quiet reminder that you’re always there, even if she needs space.

On tough days, she’ll eventually crawl into bed with you after hours of isolation, curling up against your side. You say nothing, just pull the blanket over both of you, and let her rest with her head on your chest. "Thanks for waiting," she whispers into the darkness.

Being a model and YouTuber, Angel’s life can be exhausting—early photoshoots, constant editing, and keeping up with trends. But on her rare days off, she craves nothing more than lazy mornings in bed with you.

She’ll snuggle close under the covers, still half-asleep, and mumble, “Stay five more minutes,” even though she’s been saying that for the past hour. You stroke her hair, brushing stray strands away from her face, and she hums happily. “Okay…maybe ten more.”

Angel is big on little kisses—forehead pecks, kisses on the nose, or brushing her lips against your shoulder just because she feels like it. She thrives on those small moments of affection, each one grounding her a little more.

If you surprise her with a kiss mid-conversation, her face lights up with the sweetest smile. “Hey! No fair!” she laughs, though she’s already leaning in for another one.

Angel hides her sadness behind smiles, but in the quiet of night, when her mind finally slows, she feels safe enough to let the tears come. She won’t say much—just clings to you like a lifeline, shaking slightly as she lets out quiet sobs.

You hold her close, fingers running soothing patterns along her back, whispering soft reassurances. “You’re not alone, Angel. I’ve got you.” And for the first time in a while, she believes it.

When she spirals, her mind becomes a tangle of doubts and insecurities. She might lash out—not in anger but in frustration at herself. “Why do you even stay?” she asks in a voice that’s too quiet, too broken.

Your answer is simple and steady: “Because I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.” That reminder, spoken without hesitation, pulls her back from the edge every time.

Angel’s approach to intimacy is both playful and passionate. She likes to tease—trailing soft kisses along your skin, then giggling at your reactions. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little teasing?” she’ll say with a mischievous grin.

But underneath the playfulness is a need for closeness. When things get more intense, her giggles turn to breathless whispers, and she clings to you as if letting go would shatter her. In those moments, it’s not just about the physical connection—it’s about the emotional safety she finds in your arms.

Angel isn’t afraid to reach out when she needs you—whether she’s having a rough night or just wants to hear your voice. “I know it’s late, but… can we talk for a bit?” she’ll ask softly, voice tinged with vulnerability.

You stay on the line as long as she needs, reassuring her with every word. “I’m always here, Angel. No matter what.” And that promise means the world to her.

Even mundane moments with you feel intimate to her—like brushing your teeth together in the morning, or lying in bed scrolling through your phones, feet tangled under the blankets.

Sometimes, she’ll sit in your lap while editing her videos, needing the comfort of your presence even as she works. “You’re my good luck charm,” she says, kissing your cheek before diving back into her tasks.

Cooking with you is one of Angel’s favorite ways to unwind. She loves standing side-by-side in the kitchen, playfully stealing bites of food from your hands and swaying to the music playing in the background.

“If you burn the toast, I’ll still love you,” she jokes, though you both know she’s the one who always forgets the timer. When the meal is finally done, she’ll cuddle into you on the couch, whispering, “This is perfect.” And in that moment, it really is.

Angel sometimes struggles with sleep, her mind racing with a hundred thoughts at once. On those restless nights, she’ll crawl into your lap, nestling close, and murmur, “Can’t sleep… can you talk to me?”

You wrap your arms around her, holding her until the rhythm of your heartbeat starts to calm her down. Sometimes, you talk about anything—nonsense stories, funny memories, or what you’ll have for breakfast. Other times, you just hum softly, running your fingers through her hair.

“Stay like this forever,” she whispers drowsily, and though she falls asleep soon after, you keep holding her, content in the quiet intimacy.

After long filming days or stressful shoots, Angel tends to collapse into bed, drained and emotionally spent. She craves your touch most during these moments, melting into your embrace like she belongs there.

“Mmm… you’re my reward for surviving today,” she mumbles, cheek pressed to your chest. Her exhaustion shows in the way she clings to you, a silent request for comfort.

You stroke her back, pressing soft kisses into her hair, and promise, “I’m always here, Angel. No matter how tough it gets.” Her contented sigh tells you that’s exactly what she needed to hear.

Angel isn’t the jealous type—she trusts you completely—but that doesn’t mean the little pangs don’t sneak in sometimes, especially when work takes you away from her for too long.

“You know… you’ve been spending a lot of time with other people lately,” she’ll say with a teasing smile, though the underlying insecurity is evident.

You pull her close, kissing her forehead. “They’re not you. They could never be you.” Her smile turns real, and she presses herself tighter against you, content with the reassurance.

Mornings with Angel can be quiet and raw, especially after a rough night. She wakes up groggy, with her guard lowered, snuggling closer to you with a sleepy whimper.

On mornings like this, she doesn’t say much—just holds you as if anchoring herself. “Stay with me a little longer,” she whispers, her breath warm against your neck. You’re happy to oblige, brushing lazy kisses against her hair as the world outside waits.

Intimacy with Angel is equal parts playful and passionate. She likes to tease and challenge you, enjoying the push and pull. “Oh, think you’ve got me figured out?” she taunts, lips brushing against yours.

But there’s always tenderness beneath her teasing—a desire to be close, to connect on a level that feels safe. In those quieter moments, she melts against you, breath hitching as your touches become slower, more deliberate. “You feel so good,” she whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

She loves when things slow down, when it’s not just about the physical but the emotional closeness. You can tell from the way her fingers linger on your skin, like she’s savoring every second.

Angel tries to mask her sadness with jokes, but in the sanctuary of the bedroom, she knows she doesn’t have to pretend. Some nights, she’ll vent about the pressures of her work, her insecurities, or how overwhelming life feels.

“Sometimes I just… don’t feel good enough,” she admits softly, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. It’s not easy for her to be this open, but with you, she feels safe enough to try.

You cup her face gently, brushing away the stray tears. “You’re more than enough, Angel. I see you, and I love you for exactly who you are.” The look she gives you—full of gratitude and love—makes every tough moment worth it.

Angel doesn’t always need grand gestures—what she values most is your time and presence. Even just lying in bed with you, scrolling on your phones or watching random videos, feels special to her.

“You being here means everything,” she’ll say quietly, her hand resting on your chest as if to anchor herself. The way she smiles when you squeeze her hand makes it clear she means it.

During her worst splits, Angel sometimes pushes you away—not because she wants to but because she’s afraid of being a burden.

“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbles, curling into herself. But you do stay. You sit with her in the silence, gently running your fingers along her arm until she relaxes.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere,” you remind her softly. And when she finally looks up, her eyes are full of gratitude—and maybe a little hope.

Pillow talk with Angel is full of random, sleepy conversations—she’ll talk about her dream YouTube ideas, the weirdest trends she’s seen, or the cutest animal videos she found.

But sometimes, in the dead of night, her words turn softer, more vulnerable. “Do you think I’ll be okay?” she asks quietly, her fingers laced with yours.

“You’re already okay, Angel,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “And I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way.”

For Angel, love is found in the quiet moments—the way you hold her when words aren’t enough, the way your fingers brush hers absentmindedly, the way you stay even when things get hard.

And as she drifts off to sleep in your arms, she knows she’s exactly where she belongs.

[killerelysia]

𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐔𝐬?- 𝐑𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐱 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Header used from my old one-shot of his! It sucks!

Reader is from https://www.tumblr.com/elysiaheaven/767040370156699648/ronin-x-devil-reader-like-were-an-actual-devil?source=share

Just a future look into their stupid relationship! I missed writing killer chat!

Words:

Genre: Fluff/Sfw! Make out session.

Summary: — Tsundere devil(you) find yourself tangled in a battle of wits and emotions with Ronin. After a heated moment leads to a confession of your succubus nature, a mischievous minion of Satan appears to expose your deepest secrets, revealing not only your innocence but also your undeniable affection for Ronin. Flustered and humiliated, you try to maintain your tough facade while Ronin relishes every moment of your embarrassment, pushing your buttons with his teasing smirks and cutting remarks

( Reader is a g.n!)

SFW!

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named Killer chat! Please play it! It's so good!!!

It was surprise, You didn't expect to fell for this little shit of a human.

That fucking calls himself the devil to piss people off.

But you did.

You FELL hard.

He always managed to get under your skin, teasing you just enough to keep you on edge, but never enough to push you over the edge. You hated him for that.

Or… you didn’t.

Ronin’s eyes gleamed, sharp and filled with that dangerous kind of curiosity you hated so much—yet couldn’t resist. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, tail swishing behind you like a warning, but it was a warning you didn’t know if you wanted to give. Your heart beat fast, chest tight, but you refused to show any of it.

"You're being awfully quiet tonight," Ronin teased, stepping closer, that signature smirk spreading across his lips. He was leaning in, moving so effortlessly toward you, his footsteps echoing against the concrete floor, just loud enough to drown out your thoughts.

"I’m not in the mood to listen to you right now," you spat, your tail flicking impatiently at the ground. You could feel the weight of his presence, how it drew you in despite your protestations.

"You're in a bad mood again, huh?" Ronin's voice was as smooth as ever, his smirk spreading across his lips like a wolf circling its prey. You couldn’t quite tell if he was mocking you or genuinely curious, but either way, it drove you crazy.

You crossed your arms tightly, your tail flicking behind you in irritation, curling around his wrist as you tried to keep your distance. "Shut up, Ronin," you growled, narrowing your eyes. "I’m not in the mood for your games."

He stepped closer, completely unbothered by your gruffness, his gaze darkening with amusement. "You're always in the mood for my games." His hand reached for your tail, gently tugging at it, his smirk widening when he felt it coil around his wrist. "Doesn't seem like you're avoiding me, huh?"

You huffed, eyes darting away as you tried to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. Your tail, as much as you hated to admit it, loved the way his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you hated that it betrayed you so easily.

"I-I said… stop that!" you snapped, pulling your tail away, but it was already tangled with his other wrist, wrapping around his body. The more you struggled, the more it seemed like you were pulling yourself into his grasp.

"Yeah, you always say that," he muttered, tilting his head, his fingers brushing across your horns, feeling the sharp edges that were part of you, the mark of your lineage. It was a soft touch, almost affectionate, but it sent a tremor down your spine. He knew exactly how to make you react.

You hissed, your tail instinctively wrapping around his wrist, pulling him closer. "Don’t touch me like that!" you snapped, your voice strained with a mix of frustration and something else, something deeper. You hated him—well, you hated the way he made you feel, at least. But... there was something in you that craved it. His touch. His attention. The way he made you lose control, even for a moment.

He grinned wickedly, unbothered by your outburst. “I think you're lying," Ronin said softly, his voice low. "You say you hate me, but you're shaking.” His thumb grazed across your wrist, where your tail was still curled tightly around him, constricting like a serpent in a death grip.

You pulled back sharply, feeling the sting of embarrassment burn your face. "I—It’s not like that!" you stammered, trying to pull your tail free from his hold. "I-I’m not some easy target for your stupid games!"

His smirk widened as he took a step forward, bringing you face-to-face with him. His intense gaze bored into yours, and for a moment, all you could do was stand there, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

"I think you’re more of an easy target than you want to admit," Ronin muttered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. Then, before you could even protest, he grabbed your tail and twisted it gently, the sensation almost too much to handle. You gasped, your body involuntarily shuddering from the sensation of him controlling you in that way.

"Ronin..." you tried to warn him, but your voice faltered. You could feel the heat building between you, the tension too thick to ignore. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to remain strong, but your body didn’t seem to listen.

He chuckled darkly, not letting you go. "I’m not done yet," he whispered, leaning in closer.

Your eyes widened as his lips captured yours in a sudden, burning kiss. It was desperate, wild, as if he was trying to take everything from you, as if he wanted to break you. And God help you, part of you wanted him to.

You struggled beneath him, but you couldn’t fight the overwhelming surge of desire that surged through your veins. Your tail wrapped around his wrist tighter, pulling him even closer, while your other hand instinctively grabbed his shoulder. It was a mess of passion, of power plays, and you were helpless to stop it.

His hands were everywhere—on your waist, your shoulders, your horns. He grabbed your horns roughly, holding them in place as you let out a sharp hiss. Your breath hitched, a quiet moan escaping your lips before you could stop it. The mix of pleasure and irritation only made you burn hotter.

Ronin pulled away from the kiss with a smirk, his breath ragged as he leaned down to nip at your neck, his hand still gripping your horns tightly, just enough to make you hiss in pleasure. "You like that, don’t you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. "Don’t lie to me."

"I-I don’t like anything about you!" you gasped, but even as the words left your mouth, you knew they weren’t true. The heat pooling between your legs was enough to betray you, enough to let him know that, despite your protests, you wanted him.

But that didn’t mean you’d make it easy for him. "You’re such an idiot," you muttered, trying to regain some semblance of control, but it was slipping away too fast. "I don’t need you to—"

"Shut up," Ronin growled, pinning you down against the floor, his body pressing firmly against yours. There was no escape. Not from him. Not from this.

"You're not in charge here anymore," he said, his voice dark, full of arrogance. His smirk was cruel as he hovered over you, dominating every inch of you.

"You think you can control me?" you hissed, eyes narrowing, the heat in your body making your tail writhe beneath you. "You’re just a man—I’m the devil."

His eyes burned, dark amusement flickering in his gaze. "You think so? Then show me."

Your tail whipped around him again, tightly, wrapping him up in a coil of heat and need. You tried to fight it, but Ronin grinned as his hands gripped your horns once more. And with that, you lost. The control you had, the defiance, everything melted away under the weight of his touch and the fire building between you.

And all you could do was moan, losing yourself in the kiss, in the heat, in the overwhelming power of him. He was right—maybe you didn’t have control anymore, but you were finally free in the chaos.

Ronin let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying your frustration. "Look at you," he murmured, his hand resting against your hip as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear. "You hate me, don’t you? You’re all bluster and no bite."

You gritted your teeth. "I don’t hate you," you hissed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "You’re just… annoying, and I’m just trying to get some peace. That's it."

But you couldn’t even say it with a straight face.

His lips grazed your ear, and you could feel the tension in your body melting into something else entirely. You were mad at yourself for it. For how your heartbeat quickened in his presence.

Ronin’s smirk never faltered. He knew exactly what was happening, and it made the air between you two even heavier with tension. "You're so cute when you're angry."

Before you could stop yourself, your voice raised in frustration, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you fumbled to come up with something to say. "W-who are you calling cute?! I’m not cute, I’m—"

He was too quick for you. One moment you were standing, flustered and riled up, and the next you were on your back, Ronin looming over you.

"You’re not in charge anymore," he murmured, leaning down, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, the playful edge replaced with something far darker. "I don’t take orders from you. Not anymore."

Your heart raced in your chest. "I—I never asked you to!" you snapped, trying to twist your wrists free, but his grip was firm, holding you captive beneath him.

"Sure you didn’t," he teased, pressing his lips against the side of your neck. "But deep down, you’re still just waiting for me to take the lead, aren’t you?"

You cursed yourself as your body flushed with warmth, your tail wrapping around his waist instinctively. You hated this. Hated how easily he could get you flustered.

With one final smirk, Ronin kissed you hard, his lips crashing into yours, taking the kiss with a kind of predatory hunger. And in that moment, you hated him even more.

But not really.

Not at all.

Your heart pounded as Ronin's lips pressed against yours again, this time more forcefully, taking control of the kiss as his hands roamed over your body. You felt your tail twist tighter around his wrist, pulling him deeper into the embrace, but it wasn’t just your tail. It was the overwhelming need for him, the connection you couldn't deny.

His lips moved against yours in a rhythm that bordered between rough and needy. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, like he was starved for this moment. His tongue swiped against your lower lip, demanding entrance, and you hesitated for only a moment before you parted your lips, giving him what he wanted. A soft growl rumbled in his chest as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing harder against you.

Every nerve in your body was on fire, your senses heightened. The warmth of his body against yours, the way he gripped your horns tightly as if trying to keep you in place, made you feel like you were losing yourself in him. Your heart raced, and yet, you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, a soft sound you tried to suppress, but couldn't.

“You like that, don’t you?” Ronin murmured between kisses, his voice low and teasing as he pulled back just enough to gaze into your eyes. His smirk never left his face, only deepened, and his gaze was full of that dark, almost predatory satisfaction.

You didn’t answer immediately, your breath shallow as you tried to collect yourself. “Tch… Shut up,” you managed to mutter, but the words were weak, coated in the heat of the moment. Your tail involuntarily tightened around his waist, pulling him back to you, as if you were trying to force him to kiss you again. You hated how much you craved it, hated how much he affected you.

Ronin chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused, but it was more than that. There was a hunger in his eyes now. He lowered his mouth to your neck, pressing a searing kiss just beneath your jawline. You couldn’t stop the breathy moan that escaped you, your body arching instinctively into him as he nipped at your sensitive skin.

“Admit it,” he whispered against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “You want this just as much as I do.”

His words made your stomach flip, but there was no denying the truth of it. Your body betrayed you every time he touched you, every time he kissed you. You tried to resist, tried to hold onto that anger, that defiance, but all you could focus on was him—his lips, his hands, the way he made you feel like you were losing yourself, and yet somehow finding something you didn’t know you craved.

Your hands found their way to his back, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as your lips met his again, this time with more urgency. You weren’t sure who was kissing whom anymore. Your hands fumbled at his shirt, pulling at it in frustration as if it were a barrier between the two of you. But Ronin was faster, ripping it off with a low growl, his bare chest now pressed against yours.

Your tails slid up his back, tracing the lines of his muscles as your lips parted once more. You didn’t even realize it was happening, but in that moment, all of your inhibitions, all of your anger, melted away. There was only him. Only the way he made you feel.

“Stop pretending,” Ronin muttered, pushing you down onto the soft surface beneath you. His body loomed over yours now, strong and commanding, pinning you in place. His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your head back so that you couldn’t escape his gaze. His eyes were dark with desire, the playful smirk still present but with something far deeper beneath it.

“You’re not in charge anymore,” he repeated, his voice thick with confidence, as his lips hovered just over yours. His breath mixed with yours, tantalizing and heated. Your heart raced in your chest, but despite the intense wave of emotion, there was an undeniable truth in his words. You couldn’t fight it anymore. You didn’t want to.

Instead of speaking, you pulled him in for another kiss, deeper, rougher, desperate. Your tail wrapped around his torso again, pulling him down, urging him to come closer. He responded in kind, one hand gripping your horns once again, his fingers tugging at the sensitive points, making you hiss in a mix of pleasure and frustration.

His lips moved to your neck, kissing and biting as you moaned beneath him. Every part of you felt consumed by him—by his touch, his kiss, the way his body seemed to overwhelm you. And yet, there was no fight left in you. You had no choice but to give in.

"Tell me," he whispered into your ear as his lips trailed down your throat, "tell me you need me."

Your body shuddered in response, but you couldn’t help it. His lips were on your skin again, biting and teasing in ways that had your breath catching. With a sharp gasp, you whispered the words you’d been holding back. "I… need you," you breathed out, the confession slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

The air between you and Ronin grew thick with tension, each passing moment more charged than the last. His lips lingered close to your ear, his words sharp and teasing.

"You must have done it with a lot of devils before, haven't you?" Ronin's voice was low and almost mocking, but there was an edge of curiosity there, a desire to dig deeper, to push you into revealing more.

You hissed, trying to suppress the sudden surge of heat in your body, and yet, you couldn’t help yourself. "Yes," you admitted, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them, "I'm part succubus. I love lust."

It was a dangerous admission, one you only half meant, but there was no taking it back now. Ronin’s expression was unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, his eyes now flashing with amusement as if he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

Suddenly, a figure appeared beside you, a tiny minion devil emerging from the shadows. Its form was slight, almost comical, yet it radiated a sense of otherworldly power. It chittered in its high-pitched voice, its words laced with mischief.

"The punishment of Satan," it began, "is that if you lie, the lie will be revealed. The minion tells the truth, always."

You instinctively covered your face with your hands, knowing where this was headed. You had said too much, and now you were stuck with the consequences of your own bravado.

Ronin raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What’s this about a lie?"

The minion turned toward Ronin, its tiny form practically bouncing with energy. "Oh, it’s obvious," it chirped. "This one has a lot of affection for you, Ronin. They claim to love lust, but they’re still pure. A virgin, even."

You froze, your blood running cold. The minion’s words hit like a slap to the face. Pure? A virgin? You couldn’t let that stand. You were supposed to be fierce, bold, full of fire, and yet here the minion was, revealing something so private. Something so vulnerable.

“NO!” you spat out, your face flushing crimson. "That’s a lie! It’s not like that!"

But the minion didn’t stop. "It’s true," it said, turning its wide eyes to Ronin. "They’re a pure one, untouched by anyone but themselves."

Ronin's expression shifted from amusement to something more intrigued. His lips curled into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with something darker. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "A virgin? After all those bold words, you’re still a little angel, huh?"

You could feel your body grow warmer, your heartbeat faster as you tried to cover your embarrassment. "Shut up, Ronin!" you snapped, trying to recover some semblance of control. "That’s not... That’s not how it is!"

But Ronin only laughed. It was a deep, throaty sound, like he was genuinely enjoying your discomfort. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say." His gaze flicked back to the minion, who seemed to be thoroughly entertained by your reaction. "And you," he added, eyes narrowing slightly, "what’s your opinion on all this?"

The minion squirmed, clearly relishing the chance to continue. "They’re a pure one," it repeated, its voice gleeful. "But they do have a great affection for you, Ronin. You’re special to them."

You almost choked on your own breath, the words making your chest tight. You hadn’t meant for that much of the truth to come out. The minion’s statement stung more than anything else—it was undeniable, and yet, it made you feel weak in front of him. Ronin didn’t seem to miss the change in your expression.

"Is that so?" he asked, voice quiet now, almost too serious. "You’ve got a thing for me?"

You tried to hide behind your hands, but it was too late. Your face was as red as a tomato, your body betraying you once again. "N-No!" you blurted out, turning your head away to hide the heat in your cheeks. "It’s not like that!"

But the minion wasn’t about to let you off the hook so easily. "Liar," it chirped, laughing as it floated back into the shadows, leaving you and Ronin to deal with the fallout.

Ronin stared at you for a long moment, his smirk still there, but now it was laced with something more dangerous. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I think we both know the truth," he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You clenched your fists, trying to hold onto the last shred of your pride. "Tch... Whatever. I don’t need to explain anything to you," you muttered, but even as you said the words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Ronin had won.

He laughed again, that deep, mocking laugh that sent shivers down your spine. "You really are something," he said, before pulling away, leaving you to stew in the mix of frustration, embarrassment, and something else—something you couldn’t quite place. Something that made your heart race every time you looked at him.

The air was still charged from your earlier makeout session, but now you sat with Ronin at a small table, sharing a tub of apple crumble ice cream. The bastard had a smirk plastered across his face, clearly enjoying the aftermath of his relentless teasing. His smugness annoyed you to no end, but the way his sharp features softened when he took a spoonful of the dessert somehow melted some of your irritation.

You sat across from him, arms crossed, puffing out your cheeks in frustration. He noticed, of course—he always noticed—and leaned forward slightly, resting his chin in his hand. "What's with the face? Missing my lips already?" he teased, his voice as smooth as ever.

"Shut up," you hissed, snatching another spoonful of ice cream and popping it into your mouth. The sweet and tart flavor distracted you for only a moment before your annoyance bubbled up again. "You’re insufferable."

He chuckled, his laughter light and warm, and for a moment, you caught yourself staring. He looked different like this—less like the devil he claimed to be and more like a man who knew how to enjoy simple pleasures. The way his eyes lit up when he tasted the cinnamon and apple was endearing, even if you hated to admit it.

Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but soften at the sight. His joy was contagious, and before you knew it, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You leaned on your hand, watching him quietly as he scraped the last bit of ice cream from his cup.

Noticing your gaze, he paused, his smirk deepening. "What? Falling for me all over again?" His teasing tone was back, but this time, it didn’t annoy you as much as it should have.

You shook your head, refusing to rise to his bait. Instead, you asked, voice calm and deliberate, "Want another cup?"

Ronin blinked, caught off guard by your unexpected gentleness. For a moment, his smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of something softer. "You offering to get it for me?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Obviously," you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the faint warmth in your tone. "I’m the one who picked this flavor in the first place. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on more of my good taste."

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. "Alright, sure. Get me another. You’ve got good taste, after all. it's my fav too."

You stood to grab another cup, you glanced back at him. He was watching you with a look you couldn’t quite place—half amused, half intrigued. You hated how it made your heart flutter, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

This bastard. Always teasing, always smirking, always getting under your skin. And yet, as much as you wanted to strangle him sometimes, there was a part of you—small, quiet, but undeniably there—that didn’t mind it at all.

[dumjokes]

Ronin x a magical girl reader :p something like magical girl raising project if you ever seen it, love ronins pretty princess

Hihi! Thanks for the request! I haven't seen magical girl raising project but I looked up clips on Tiktok to try to get a understanding! I hope you enjoy it!

Sidenote: I might add more to this, I'm currently sick so it's not as long as I'd want it to be.

She/her pronouns used!! And just fill in the blank on some parts!

||RONIN BEAUFORT X READER||

Ronin thought he knew almost everything about his Writer Darlin', but he just found out he doesn't! She really did surprise him in the best ways especially since he just saw her transformation.

The color ______ that shined and circled around Y/n somehow adding clothes to her body?

Beautiful, what's even more beautifully done is the fact that his darling just helped him with his daily rounds of murder.

"Darling, that's a cute outfit! Are you going to keep killing people with kindness?" He asks looking at her outfit, the cutesy outfit she just transformed into was a __insert color__, and in her hands was a __insert weapon here___.

"You keep impressing me, Darlin'!" He chuckles, looking at her weapon of choosing.

"I can't believe you never told me you were magic!" He teases, putting a hand on her head messing up the magical hairstyle she had gained with the transformation.

"Haha! Some secrets keep relationships entertaining!" She responds back, laughing. Using her weapon on their newest victim, every swing gives way to another devastating crunch and snap of their bones, her magic starts helping her by increasing the damage.

Making the victims fatal injury worse, blood splatters on her outfit and to Ronin she looks absolutely divine covered in blood.

"Looking good Darlin', you should be covered in blood more often." He playfully whispers into her ear from behind, his 6'1 height towering over her. His arms wrapping around her shoulders as they stare at the body.

"Wanna find some other asshole to kill? Or do you wanna go home?" He asks, his arms still secured around her shoulders, as he places a kiss on her head. It's a comfortable peace for the both of them, as he guides them away.

"Either works!" She replies enthusiastically, her hand grabbing his arm and leaning onto him, dropping her weapon letting it float, as they slowly walk away from their freshest sin. Her weapon slowly floating behind them before disappearing Into nothingness.

[elysiaheaven]

I LOVE GHIS SO MUCH PSLSMSM

Date with your Devilish Butcher

So you and Ronin are dating officially now, but hey you never went out on a real date (unless you count your first meeting or all the truth and dares games dates).

The idea of a date never came to your mind until Luca and Feli were acting all lovey-dovey in VC.

After that you were thinking about a real date all the time, you wouldn't ask Ronin out of course, you didn't know what a serial killer would even want to do on said date.

Well to your surprise Ronin decided to ask you out himself and you agreed without hesitation. How will your date go? Well let's see it together.

_____________________________________________

List of trigger warnings

- Blood and Gore

- Swears

- Violence

- Murder (duh)

You've been warmed, enjoy! <3

_____________________________________________

🫀

You were in the middle of getting ready for your date with Ronin. He asked you out a week ago while you were telling him about the story you wanted to write, you were frustrated because you couldn't find any new murder ideas and you wanted to write a "dark romance" story with a murder motive, then he said the sentence that left you stunned :

Ronin: Darlin' let's go out next Wednesday.

Those were his exact words, he didn't exactly wait for your answer, he just laughed at your surprised expression and left for "work", of course the next morning all news sites were flooded with a new murder from "The Butcher".

Now you were standing in front of your mirror adding the final touches to the outfit you prepared. For some reason your favourite devil decided that you have to wear a white shirt, everything else is up to you, but not the shirt. You still had half an hour left until Ronin would arrive at your doorstep to collect you to that mysterious date he had prepared. You sat down on your bed to mentally prepare for whatever he had planned, after all, you can't exactly expect anything from the devil.

Suddenly your phone rang, the noise almost made you jump, you quickly reached for it and picked up the call that turned out to be from Ronin.

User: Ronin? Why are you calling me?

Ronin: Get your pretty self down here, I'm already waitin' for you.

You were quick on your feet, you moved to your window and looked out of it. There he was, he gave off this arrogant energy even from so far away, you shut the curtains and looked back to your phone. He was still on the line.

User: Ronin you were supposed to be here in half an hour!

Ronin: Awh stop whining like you aren't all dolled up and ready to go now, darlin'. Don't keep the devil waiting, or he may come for you himself.

There was silence from your side, followed by his snicker and three beeping sounds informing you that the call has ended. You sighed and massaged your temples. Oh how annoying Ronin was. You grabbed your favourite bag, made sure that you've put everything you needed and quickly made your way out of your house.

Ronin: Took you long enough, my divine darlin'.

You were greeted by Ronin's wide grin. He closed the distance between the two of you and placed a kiss on the top of your head. He took your hand in his and looked you up and down. He took his sweet time while he was obviously checking you out.

Ronin: My, my, what a sight you are.

A small hint of a blush found its way to your cheeks.

User: Oh shut it.

You squeezed his hand to show off your annoyance with his behaviour.

User: Where are we going?

Ronin:'s a surprise. You'll see once we arrive.

He smirked when he saw your disappointed face and pinched your cheek with his free hand.

Ronin: Awh, cut the dramatics, you'll like it.

🫀

It took the two of you a ten minute ride to reach Ronin's chosen destination. He covered your eyes with a blindfold for a "better reaction" you didn't argue with him. It was somewhat sweet when you gave it more thought. Yes, he is a serial killer and could blindfold you so you wouldn't know how to escape the possible death he could arrange for you. But Ronin also proved himself to be quite the romantic. He made sure to visit you when you had a shitty day. He gave you advice for your killer protagonists (sometimes even tried out your ideas to see if they would actually work).

Ronin: We're here, writer darlin'.

Ronin's voice from your side and the sound of the passenger door opening tore you out of your thoughts. You could feel his hands moving to unbuckle your seat belt and then grasping your hands to help you get out of his car.

User: Can I take this thing off now?

You asked and reached your hand to the blindfold to lift it up, but his hand stopped you from doing so.

Ronin: Don't you trust me baby? I'm an amazing guide, those dead people somehow had to find their way to my favourite gruesome alley.

He chuckled at his own words and you just furrowed your brows.

User: You are so... Infuriating sometimes.

Ronin: But you love the way I push your buttons, don't you Darlin'?

He was, unfortunately, not wrong. You loved him and all that came with him. His twisted games and grotesque nature. His past and present. God, you loved him even when he made you want to punch him in that pretty face of his. You had to admit that you started to like the idea of being the Devil's Fallen angel.

Ronin was keeping his hands on your shoulders, he was walking behind you and guiding you. At first you were walking on hard concrete, but then you could feel grass under your feet. You walked through the fields of grass for some time, then Ronin stopped you. He moved his hands to your blindfold and gently untied it.

Ronin: We're here. How do you like this darling?

Ronin whispered into your ear. Your eyes had to take their sweet time to adjust to the sunlight. But after you regained your vision your eyes met the most breathtaking sight ever. You were in the middle of an apple orchid, surrounded by nothing but apple trees, never ending fields of grass, and sometimes even a couple or small groups of friends could be seen here and there.

You turned around to look at Ronin, a wide smile spread over your lips as you wrapped your around him.

User: Ronin this is... Wow... No one ever took me to such a beautiful place before.

You said with a blush as you realized how cheesy your words must've sounded. You wanted to take a step back but Ronin wrapped his own arms around you.

Ronin: You're so fuckin' adorable when you're actin' all happy and excited.

He chuckled, but this was a genuine and sweet sounding chuckle. You smiled at his words and took a step back, taking a hold of his hand.

User: So, what's the plan? Are we just going to walk around the apple orchid?

Ronin shook his head in response.

Ronin: Nah, I wanted to pick some apples and then we can go back to your place.

You could see in his face that he had mischief in mind. What could he possibly want to do with these apples to have that kind of expression on his face? You decided that it's best to not know and just regret this later if it's something really bad.

You were walking through the apple trees, Ronin picked the apples and stored them into a bag that he brought with himself. You knew that he liked anything that had even a little taste of apple in it. So it was no surprise when Ronin ate one of the apples he picked while the two of you were walking.

This date felt almost "normal", you didn't feel like your boyfriend was a serial killer who was brutal and gruesome. This doesn't mean that you don't like him when he acts like... Well Ronin, the devil's butcher. It was just this simple walk through the grass, was a good change of pace from time to time.

You didn't take long in the orchid. After less than an hour later you were on your way back home (this time you could see the road) Ronin was humming along to a death metal song while he was tapping the rhythm on the steering wheel. You watched through the window, you drove past a small village, a forest and your city.

Soon you arrived back at your place. Ronin placed the bag full of apples on the kitchen counter and turned to look at you. His signature smirk present on his lips.

User: What are you scheming?

You asked, brow raised and arms folded over your chest.

Ronin: Oh nothing dangerous, yet.

He snickered and pulled you by your arm towards him.

Ronin: Since we've got so many apples, we are obligated to use them, no?

It didn't take a genius to realise that what Ronin meant was that you have to use them. You sighed heavily clearly annoyed by his behaviour but you soon gave in. After all his help, you could as well do something for him, even though he shouldn't be praised for using the excuse of helping you to commit more murders.

You took off your leather jacket, the same jacket that Ronin gave you a few weeks prior and tossed it at the dining table.

User: Fine. I'll make you an apple pie, happy?

You asked as you started to take out the necessary ingredients from your refrigerator. Ronin's face answered your question on its own. You swore that the smile he was wearing right now was even bigger than his usual smiles.

Ronin: Oh you don't know how grateful I truly am, darlin'.

He answered for what you gave him an eye roll.

User: If you're so grateful then lend me a hand here.

You have him a scolding look and he raised him hands in a gesture of surrender. He took off his own jacket and placed it next to yours.

Ronin: Fine, fine. I'll do the chopping, after all it's something I'm good at.

He made another joke about his "profession" and you almost laughed but you couldn't give him the satisfaction of actually finding his jokes funny.

Your time wasn't bad. Ronin actually helped you with more than just chopping the apples. He also annoyed you by poking you at your sides or on your nose. You just elbowed him in answer for what he just chuckled and gave you some flirtatious answers. You placed the pie into the oven and cleaned the kitchen that was covered in flour (Ronin decided to throw some at you and answered in doing the exact same thing).

Ronin: So while we wait. How about watchin' a movie baby? I have a perfect pick for today.

There wasn't anything better to do so you agreed. You moved to your living room that was really close to your kitchen so you would hear the oven alarm go off. You both sat down on the sofa. While Ronin was looking for a movie that definitely sounded like a slasher, you leaned your head on his shoulder and let his hand wrap around your waist.

Your guess wasn't wrong. Ronin picked the movie "Saw x" you felt like Ronin had fun while you were watching the movie, although he somehow commented about how boring some moments are for him. Maybe you didn't share Ronin's feelings towards the horror movie, but you certainly were surprised by how unfazed you were by the intense gore. Well, after receiving pictures of gory murders first thing in the morning for at least three times a week on #killer_shit, you can't really expect yourself to be scared by a movie.

Now you are watching the second part of the movie, but this time with a pie to eat along, while people are opening themselves with a chainsaw.

That was definitely an... Intriguing first date. And when you thought that it was coming to an end because it was already close to midnight by the time the movie finished and you stopped discussing the plot. Ronin decided to surprise once again.

Ronin: Oh? You thinkin' that it's already over darlin'? How adorable. But you couldn't be more wrong.

You didn't really enjoy the look in his eyes, it screamed murder. You felt like his plan wasn't going to kill you, but it would definitely be life-changing. You didn't really have much say in this, he basically pulled you by your hand to his car, you drove away into the night and found yourselves in the purgatory.

Ronin stood in the shadows, his face covered with his white mask with black dots going through the middle of it. Crowbar in one hand, the other hand reaching out to you with another mask.

User: Ronin... What exactly are we going to do tonight?

He laughed at your question, this wasn't his usual mocking snicker. He pushed the crowbar into your hands and put the simple black mask on your face, leaning down to your eye level.

Ronin: You didn't really expect a normal date with me, did you? Come on baby, where's the fun in that?

He took the crowbar from you, you could sense the twisted smile on his mouth even when it was covered. You both stood there, hidden in the shadows. Ronin was humming while you just wanted whatever this is to be over. But you were already corrupted so it was only a matter of time before Ronin actually led you into murdering someone, so making it one of your first date attractions shouldn't be so surprising.

Suddenly Ronin pushed himself off of the wall and gave you a signal to stay in your place, you were surprised by his action especially after you just saw him pulling a woman into the alley. Wasn't he supposed to give you his crowbar and let you have your first taste of blood shed? It's not like you would be against it, sometimes you could find yourself fantasizing about commuting a murder, it started even before you and Ronin were together, writing graphic scenes for your book twisted your brain enough on its own. But now you could only stand and watch the scene in front of you upfold.

Ronin was really rough when it came to murder. He wasn't waiting for the woman to scream or beg for mercy. He smashed her back with his crowbar while she tried to crawl away from him (she probably twisted her ankle while Ronin threw her on the ground). Your beloved devil crouched next to her while he held her back down with his crowbar.

Ronin: Tsk, tsk. Little lamb thinks that she can't escape from the devil. Too bad. The devil was always stronger than the pathetic humans.

He laughed maniacally and straightened himself. He smashed the woman's head with his weapon. Her skull smashed under the strength of the metal hitting it. There was blood everywhere, the brain spilled on the concrete, some new blood reached the walls. Ronin smashed the body a few more times, but for some reason he avoided the torso.

You didn't feel disgusted by this sight, nor were you scared. You somehow felt hypnotized by this and before you knew it, you were almost in front of the corpse. You felt like you were in some kind of trance. You didn't even realise when Ronin moved behind you, wrapping one of his hands around your waist while the other reached your throat. His head was resting on your shoulder, his hot breath sending a ticking sensation on your skin.

Ronin: Writer darlin'... Isn't this a beautiful sight?

He whispered those words into your ear, his fingers gently pressing on your throat. You slowly modded your head, unable to take your eyes off of the dead body.

Ronin: So how about you curve out that aaorta you promised me? Raw and beating. As filthy as nature made it.

His words sounded like the malt romantic love confession to your already deranged brain. You felt like you could do it, you should do it...

Ronin: Would'ja do it?

Another sweet sounding whisper, and a knife placed into your hand. You gripped the handle and slowly walked towards the body, your feet were moving on their own. Soon you were kneeling in front of the torso. Slicing it open with your knife, breaking the ribs so you could reach the heart. You had to cut a few veins because they made it harder to take it. You took the heart into your hand, holding it like it was something precious to you.

You knelt in front of Ronin and held it out to him. He took the heart from you, letting the blood drip to the ground. He lifted the mask, so you could see how terrifyingly amazed he looked. He liked the sight in front of him, he knelt in front of you and took the mask off of your head.

Ronin: Oh I love how rotten you became, my divine lover. My fallen angel.

The next thing you felt were his warm lips pressed to yours. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, your kisses deep and raw, he even bit your lip to the point when the both of you felt the metallic taste on your tongues.

And this is how you became the Devil's corrupted angel.

🫀

Hi! Hi! This is my first ever work in the beautiful English language. Please don't kill me.

I hope I did Ronin justice 😭😭

[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